Xavier released his mother. For a moment he stared at me.

Desperate to reach for him, I clenched my fists at my sides.

Our eyes locked for milliseconds that felt like long minutes.

I licked my lips. “I hope you get her back soon. W-what can I do to help?”

He blinked, his eyes cutting away. “I’m going down to speak to the police, so they can coordinate with Evan. Then I will take the helicopter. Accompany my mother by car to my villa in Valbonne.” His jaw flexed. “Please.”

I swiped at my leaking eyes. “Of course.”

He and his mother had another quick emotional exchange.

His eyes cut to me again briefly, and then we were on the move again.

Downstairs, two plainclothes men who were identified as policemen, took my name but didn’t ask any questions. Madame and I left Xavier with them and followed Jorge and Madame’s housekeeper Astrid to a waiting black Mercedes in the circular driveway. Everything was happening in a blur. I clutched Madame’s hand.

“It feels wrong to leave Xavier to find her alone,” Madame said as we got in the car.

I squeezed her hand. “I know. I feel the same. Will he be okay?”

“The police will accompany him. I … yes, I hope so.” Her voice shook, betraying her terror.

“They didn’t ask me any questions,” I said, just now realizing how odd that was.

“Xavier told them you had nothing to do with it and that you were with him in Calvi.”

My eyes filled again. So he could tell them, but not me? I clenched my jaw and willed myself to understand that he was a man in panic. An apology might come later. Right now, he just needed to get to Dauphine. “He’ll bring her home, and she’ll need you there waiting for her,” I told Madame reassuringly.

I, on the other hand, felt like a burden in a family crisis. My passport and belongings were stranded on a boat in the ocean. I couldn’t leave. Although at this stage, I’d happily leave everything I owned behind not to have to face Xavier’s coldness ever again. A sigh wrenched from my emotionally tired body. I was terrified for Dauphine and desperate to see her safe. And fear and heartbreak had depleted me.

I just wanted to go home. I wanted to wake up in my shoebox room in my aging apartment I shared with my two best friends. I wanted to look out the kitchen window and see a brick wall that I knew. I never wanted to see another yacht. I wanted to walk to my favorite little coffee shop and hope that the French lady, Sylvie, didn’t remind me of Xavier. Or a little girl I’d lost my heart to. Then, for a living, I wanted to draw, create, imagine, and protect history all day.