I know that Liam knows I’m right, and the pleading look in his blue eyes softens to something steadier and more resolute. “We can still talk, though, can’t we? I can call you?”
“Of course,” I tell him. “But only if you promise to bring your clarinet for late-night musical seductions.”
The smile that crosses his face is so bittersweet that it leads to a brief pounding in my ears. “I can do that,” he agrees. “But what if you meet an actual clarinet player who lives in the same time zone as you?”
“Then I’d say you have some serious competition.”
“And what if Sandra Bullock and I serendipitously meet at the Louvre and she and I fall madly in love?”
“Then you should take your shot. I know I would.”
Liam shifts as he stands across from me, his brow creasing. “What I mean to say is, we’re not... I mean, you and I are free to...”
I know what he’s asking, and as much as the thought of Liam meeting someone else feels sickening, I also know that I have to accept that it’s a distinct possibility.
“I don’t want you to stop living your life because of me or because of the idea of me. If our feelings are still there in a year, maybe the timing will be right...or maybe it won’t. Maybe this is all we’ll end up being, and if that’s the case, then I still don’t regret anything. I’ll always be glad we had this.”
“So will I,” he says. I let him pull me forward again, wrapping me up in those arms that I’ve come to crave. “I’m really going to miss you, Winnie.”
“I’m really going to miss you, too.” We step back and it hurts more than I ever could have imagined. “We enjoyed it while it lasted, didn’t we?”
He doesn’t answer, just cups the back of my neck and brings my mouth to his. He leans down, and I rise up on tiptoe. Our usual heat is there, but it’s also coupled with softness. Sadness. Friendship. It feels like a fitting end when I slowly inch away, putting more and more space between us.
“This isn’t over,” he says confidently.
I search my mind for an equally memorable response, but nothing comes. Instead, I just look at him one more time. I’m half smiling, half tearing up as I turn and walk away.
This isn’t over. I repeat his words on a loop in my mind, tucking them away somewhere safe inside me. Only time will tell if he means them or not, but in this moment, they’re very real. And even if they’re only temporary, for right now, they’re enough.
24
It’s early—painfully early considering my night last night. One of my eyes is twitching, and both are red from lack of sleep. I’m moving through Juliette’s apartment as carefully and quietly as a serpent, using every stealth bone in my body as I attempt to grab my computer off her living room desk without making a sound. Bless these blissfully carpeted floors. My flight is booked for early evening, and the last thing I want is to see Juliette again before I leave.
I’ve just reached my halfway point, safely picking up my laptop and clutching it to my chest. I’m gearing up to make my escape back to the studio and Ollie when there’s a sudden and sharp knocking on Juliette’s door. Startled panic saturates my entire being. I can’t answer it. I can’t be here. I feel frozen in place until the room once again falls quiet. Maybe whoever was outside had the wrong apartment. I take a strained breath in and close my eyes, and then there’s more knocking at the door, even louder than a few seconds ago.
My eyes dart around the room, looking for any kind of solution, when I hear a rustling coming from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Maybe it’s Roshni. It needs to be Roshni.
It’s not Roshni.
I only spot the first inch of Juliette’s slippered foot, but I know it’s hers, and it’s in that split second that I drop to the floor and take cover behind the couch that’s parallel to the desk, praying to all that is holy that she didn’t notice me.
Peeking out the slightest bit from my hiding spot, I can see that Juliette is only now putting her glasses on as she crosses the space to the door, and my pounding heart slows by the slightest degree. She didn’t spot me, but that’s not to say she won’t. I do my absolute best to level out my breathing as Juliette opens the door.
“Isabelle,” I hear her say lifelessly. “What a wonderful surprise.”
I keep my eyes trained on the floor as two sets of feet now enter the space.
“You know,” Juliette goes on, “given all your etiquette training, I figured you would know you should announce yourself before visits.”
“If I let you know I was coming, you’d feign a mysterious illness.”
Juliette plops down on the couch, sitting directly in front of me. “Incorrect. I’d hit the deck and pretend I wasn’t home, like a normal person. You continually appearing out of nowhere is denying me my basic antisocial human rights.”
“You’re hardly antisocial,” Isabelle replies.
“When it comes to you, I am.”
“Touché.” There’s more movement on the far side of the couch then, and I can only assume that Isabelle has also taken a seat but left plenty of space between them. I am now trapped on the floor with my former boss and her sister sitting a foot in front of me. It’s official. I have unlocked a new level of hell.
