My heart skips a beat. I need to think for a minute. Whatever plans I made for today seem to have slipped my mind completely. I rack my brain and remember. “I have a yoga class scheduled this afternoon and I was going to see the new Malick movie with my friend Jason tonight.”

“Oh.” Is that a shadow of disappointment crossing her face?

“Did you, er, want to do something together?”

“I don’t want to mess up your plans.” She clears her throat. “I also understand if this has to be goodbye. If it makes it easier.”

“I don’t want that. I’d like to see you again. When do you leave exactly?”

“My plane takes off at eleven thirty on Thursday morning.”

“That gives us five days.”

“Oceans of time.” Camille scoots closer.

“I’ll cancel yoga. You can either join me and Jason for the movie, or I can brush him off. If I tell him it’s for a woman, he won’t mind at all.”

“Won’t he, now? What will you tell him?”

“That I met a woman named Camille who gave me a whole new perspective on my sad life.”

“And I thought we French were dramatic.”

“You should meet my family. Indians take drama to a whole new level.”

“As much as I’d love to, let’s wait a while for family introductions.” Camille chuckles.

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” Her hands are on my belly. “I’m just joking.” She kisses my shoulder, then finds my gaze again. “Let’s make the most of the five days we have left.”

I take a deep breath before we enter the Pink Bean. We could have gone to breakfast somewhere else, but Camille said she enjoyed the croissants the day before—and I wouldn’t live it down if Caitlin, Sheryl or Micky saw me having breakfast with Camille somewhere else. They’d accuse me of trying to hide something—or find other allegations to throw at me, no doubt.

“I’m starving,” Camille says. “Must have worked up quite an appetite.” She slips her arm through mine as we line up at the counter.

I go a bit soft on the inside at her touch—and her words. Thankfully, there’s no one here that I know. Not yet, anyway. It’s not my habit to spend Saturday morning in Darlinghurst and I don’t know what everyone else’s are. I do know that neither Micky nor Josephine work here on the weekend.

We order pastries, coffee, and fresh orange juice and find a table in the farthest corner from the door. I’ve already canceled my yoga class. Camille insisted I’d keep my rendezvous with Jason tonight. She can always get her own ticket for the movie if she can’t bear to be away from me by then—her own words. But I’ll probably cancel anyway.