“Do they know that for sure?” I asked, wondering what kind of artist would depict this woman with wings, but no arms or head. It feels impactful.
“They recovered part of a hand,” he explained, standing with his hands clasped behind him, gazing up at the sculpture before us. “So it’s only reasonable to assume it would be connected to an arm.”
Cole is fetching my coat when Viktor asks, “So, how do you know Cole?”
My stomach tightens. Viktor is an older man—maybe ten years or so older than Cole. He’s been perfectly polite, but I don’t like the idea of telling him about the fact that I was Cole’s assistant before we started our relationship.
“We worked together,” I say, then, to redirect, “How do you know him?”
The tour guide smiles, “Cole saved my daughter’s life.”
Blinking, I pull my head back in surprise, “He did?”
“My daughter had a semi-rare degenerative disease,” Viktor explains, through his sharp Parisian accent. “Not very flashy, not a lot of grant money there to find a cure. But Cole led the research, dumped all his money from those early companies into building medical teams and developing cures. The treatment she went through nearly five years ago was all due to him. It was the least I could do to provide him with this private tour, especially considering the donation.”
Donations—of course Cole must have donated significant sums to the museums, to get tours like this. I’d read over his Wikipedia page, of course, and about his work with research and development of several medical technologies. And I knew about his sister.
But I put the pieces together here, standing in one of the majestic lobbies of the Louvre, and it breaks my heart. The thought of Cole, with all his brains, struggling to find an answer to a disease. Not doing it in time, not for his sister, anyway. Then, gaining the favor of all the people that curewasable to save. Consolation prizes.
Cole comes to collect me, and we find ourselves back in another car, this time with a driver.
“Cole?” I ask, after we sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. He looks over at me, his face flashing golden occasionally from the lights that pass us by outside the window.
“Yes?” He swipes his thumb over the back of my hand in a gesture I’m learning is veryhim.
“Would you… tell me about Claire?” Cole blinks, and a flash of grief moves over his face. I’ve blindsided him. Instantly, I regret asking like that. “Sorry, I was just?—”
He squeezes my hand, shakes his head, “Don’t apologize, Lucy. I…” he trails off, looks out the window, swallows. Outside, Paris scrolls past us in a blur of streetlights and golden puddles on cobblestone streets.
Then, Cole turns back to me and tells me about his sister.
Claire, his twin. She helped him through elementary school. Saw his weirdness and protected it. She was cool and effortless, making sense of social cues when Cole couldn’t. Claire loved peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, often pulled him into impromptu dancing sessions, and advocated to their parents for him.
“She was the reason I got to go to science camp.”
Claire guided him, and he needed her, and she got sick their freshman year of college. It reminds me of Frankie, and I can’t keep the tears from my eyes as he tells me about the horror of losing her, bit by bit, then all at once.
“I think we would have been friends,” I say, when he trails off again. My voice is soft, impacted by the enormity of his grief.
Cole turns and looks at me, gaze flicking down to my lips before returning to my eyes. Then, slowly, he smiles. “I think so, too.”
When Cole opens the ridiculously lavish door to the ridiculously lavish Parisian hotel suite, he reveals two men already inside the room, deep in discussion with one another.
“Nico?” I breathe, laughing. “Dane?”
They turn to look at me, their brows wrinkling before they glance over my shoulder, at Cole.
“What—?” Nico asks, a hand in his hair.
“Is this why you brought us here?” Dane follows, his mouth a stern, straight line.
“Cole?” I spin around, already laughing at the smug look of victory on the man’s face. “You brought them here? For our date? Didn’t you want me all to yourself?”
He closes the door and gives me a meaningful look, “I had you to myself all day, and yesterday. But I know you like having all of us.”
My face flushes, and when I turn around, Nico is laughing, while Dane stews.
“Oh, fuck,fine,” Nico rolls his eyes, throwing his hands in the air. “You win, Cole.”
