She waves me off. “Ah, you’re in a state. It’s true that she has been very busy lately. And she refuses to move in with me, so I don’t get to see her as often as I would like.”

“She’s young. She needs her independence.”

“What she needs most of all is more hours in her day.” Caitlin’s voice isn’t scornful, just a little melancholic.

“Don’t we all.” I throw up my hands. “You would, if you wanted to present The Zoya Das Show.”

“We’d have to temporarily rename it The Caitlin James Show, of course.” She chuckles.

“You’d have to interview a few people you don’t like very much. I’m not sure you can be trusted to treat them with the necessary respect required on TV.”

She slants her head. “I never said it would be easy.”

“You’re quite something, Caitlin.”

“All I’m trying to say is that if you need a woman—a friend—to keep your seat warm, I’m up for it. Details are for later. I just want you to have some peace of mind and not walk around in Paris worrying about your job. In the end, it’s just a job. It’s a lucrative and prestigious one, I won’t argue against that, but it is just a job. Other things are more important.”

“Thanks for the motivational minute.” It’s easy to say for Caitlin, who has always had something else to fall back on—all careers she built for herself. But I do appreciate the message she’s trying to send. It’s her way of saying everything will be okay and things will fall into place as they tend to do. “Are you sure you and Jo are okay?”

She doesn’t speak for a few seconds. “We’re fine. We really are. But it seems that the dynamic of our relationship is changing rather quickly.”

“In a good way?”

“I’ve always believed that as long as there’s respect, there is no bad way.” She falls silent again. Perhaps she’s not ready to talk about it yet. Knowing Caitlin, she’ll tell me all about it when she is. She refocuses her gaze on me. “Twenty-one days until you get an in with Dominique Laroche. Have you come up with a strategy yet?”

“President Laroche is the least of my worries. All my thoughts are preoccupied with one woman.”

Chapter Eighteen

Twenty-one days later, I’m finally on the plane. My flight follows a different route than Camille’s, with the longest journey to Doha first, followed by a slightly shorter one to Charles de Gaulle Airport in France.

I can’t quite believe I’m on my way to see her. But when the plane takes off, and I’m flying in the direction of Camille, all the pent-up emotion breaks free and I burst into inadvertent tears.