Camille nods. “I can’t possibly have you ripping up more of my panties.”

I chuckle. “I’ll buy you some new ones today.”

“Maybe not too high-quality ones.”

“Good morning.” Caitlin’s voice startles me. I was so wrapped up in looking into Camille’s eyes I didn’t even see Caitlin come in. “You must be Camille.” Caitlin grins at Camille. “Caitlin James. Pleasure to meet you.”

Emotions war inside of me. On the one hand, I think Camille and I should get out of here as quickly as possible, before Sheryl and Kristin come down, followed by Amber and Martha hopping in for some tea. On the other hand, I want to say to Caitlin: “You see. I can do this.” Although it would just make her feel smug. Or perhaps just happy for me. Caitlin’s return to Australia coincided with my break-up from Rebecca, which has been a great help to me. Because of her, I had an outside perspective on all the matters that drove Rebecca and me apart. And she introduced me to a bunch of people who don’t remind me of the life I used to have. People who don’t have to walk on egg shells around me and worry about a slip of the tongue, accidentally mentioning they spent time with Rebecca and Julie.

“I’m surprised you know my name.” Camille says it with a smile in her voice.

“Let’s just say I was there when you texted Zoya and I was the one to push her in the right direction.” Caitlin winks at me. “Call me later,” she says.

“You do know a lot of the customers here.” Camille sits there grinning. “Seems to me your problem is not being recognized by strangers at all. It’s being left alone by your friends while you’re having breakfast with last night’s conquest.”

“Oh, no. You were absolutely not a conquest to me.”

That smile again. “Seems like the French have a decidedly different sense of humor than the Australians.”

“Touché.” I drink my coffee while I consider my next words carefully. “Do we, er need to talk about what this is?”

Her face darkens. “It can only be one thing. I think we should at least be clear about that.”

“I know.”

“But let’s enjoy the weekend. I’d much rather spend my last one in this gorgeous country with an equally gorgeous woman by my side.”

“You got it.” I send her a smile, even though, on the inside, it feels a little bitter sweet. “Let’s get out of here, though. I don’t want any more interruptions.”

“Deal.” Camille makes quick work of her coffee and croissant, and so do I.

Chapter Seven