“It’s okay,” I say, trying to make up for my previous blunder. “I’m not really one of them yet, so that’s probably confusing for you.” Oh shit. I know it’s a disaster as soon as it comes out of my mouth.

Siaka looks at me like my words were a slap.

I scramble to fix things. “I don’t mean confusing for you personally. I mean confusing for anyone. Because you’re obviously really knowledgeable...” I trail off, feeling each word dig me in even deeper. As if that’s possible.

Avoiding eye contact, we pack our stuff, leave the basement, and make our way through the shop. Siaka locks the door behind us and halfheartedly asks, “Scooter?”

“Sure,” I reply. I hate the tension between us, but I don’t dare try to talk it out for fear of saying something that ruins things for good. Because if I said what I truly feel—I mean, face it, the horrifying awkwardness is because I have a massive crush on him—well, I might as well turn in my resignation to Bran and Gaspard and tell them to find me a replacement.

I tuck my hair behind my ears, pull on the helmet Siaka hands me, and sit behind him on the scooter. Despite my best efforts to ignore it, I still feel his magnetic pull, and it takes all my resolve to resist wrapping myself around him. But gone is the sparkling feeling floating in the air. Instead, I smell exhaust each time we pass a car, and the glittering magic of Paris has morphed into a thick fog of suck.

I feel like taking the next train out of the city, but where would I even go? The place I lived the last five years isn’t my home anymore. What am I going to do? Show up on my mom’s doorstep and say, “Hey, Mom, I came back to life!” No, Paris is my home now. I have to make this work.

When we pull into the courtyard at La Maison, Bran is sitting on the edge of this angel fountain that always reminds me of Kate and Vincent. My mentor is chatting with Vincent, who holds Odette on his lap. She’s wearing Bran’s glasses, and her eyes are magnified to the size of eggs as she watches us climb off the scooter. She points as we walk toward them.

“Big,” she says. Then taking the glasses off... “Little.” Then back on. “Big!” And off. “Little!”

It’s super-cute.

“Give the glasses back to Bran, Odette,” Vincent says. “We wouldn’t want him to hurt himself running into things.”

Bran rolls his eyes comically. Odette giggles and says, “Don’t hurt yourself, Bran.”