Savannah leans in, whispering, “Does that make you a mafia princess or something?”
“Ugh,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not theprincesstype.”
Fabien sips his wine. “We’ll see about that.”
For some reason, that strikes Savannah as outrageously funny. She hoots with laughter, drawing the attention of several nearby tables. “Oh, and I amso happyI will be around to seethat!”
My cheeks warm, before her words catch up to me. “Do you mean… are you saying…”
I look to Fabien. Placing his glass on the table, he folds his hands in front of him. “I’ll go where you go,” he says.
“But Fabien, your family?—”
“Are there not planes? Trains?”
“And automobiles?” Savannah supplies. “Not to mention, teleconferences and smartphones? Hmm?” Her eyes dance at me.
I think about it. We have to discuss it, of course, but I can’t help but wonder…
“We have no home in America,” I tell Fabien. “Savannah’s done with school, so… I mean, we have no place to go hometo.”
“We could live in Paris,” he says thoughtfully, stroking his chin. He blows out a breath. “We might… want a little break from Corsica.”
I definitely want a break from Corsica.
Savannah pauses, a forkful of chocolate cake halfway to her mouth. “Did you say Paris?” she whispers.
“Yes, Paris,” I say on a laugh. “You know, north of here? The capital of France?”
“Would you… could you… Oh my God, wecould!”
“We could. We could travel the world. We could… well, we could do damn near anything.”
I don’t tell Savannah and may never, but my mind immediately conjures up that closet full of passports and disguises… I’m not exactly sure I want to take up a life ofcrime,but we could definitely have some fun.
I smile and sigh with contentment. “We’ll have fun discussing our options.” I look to Fabien. “Could we show her your family home in Paris?”
Fabien reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Mon amour,” he says. “Of course. Our home is your home. Your sister is welcome, of course.”
Savannah blinks. “Alright, then.”
“What?” I ask her.
“I can see why you fell for him, crime and all.”
I shake my head. Fabien chuckles. “Have I mentioned she has no filter?”
He shrugs. “Filters are a waste of time.”
Savannah nods. “Yup, I like this guy. And as much as I’m enjoying the hell out of seeing you again, I have to admit I’m exhausted. I think I just need a nap.”
Jet lag will catch up to her, and if I know her, she was probably not sleeping regularly before she came here.
“You’re staying here?”
“I am,” she says in a singsong voice. “And it’s literally like a movie set, so excuse me while I take a shower in something the size of a small country, tinkle, and use thebidet.”
“Savannah,” I groan. Fabien hasn’t stopped smiling.
