Gaspard is right. The last few days of having some down time has done wonders for my mental health. “Can I bring a friend?”

Instead of answering, Georgia picks up her phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she dials. “Hey Siaka?” she says, winking at me. “Wanna come to a concert tonight? Nine p.m. at New Morning.” She pauses. “By the way, Louis’s coming. Great! See you there.”

She hangs up, gives a Cheshire Cat grin and bites into a chouquette.

“I guess that answers your question,” Arthur says, looking thoroughly amused.

Feeling my cheeks redden, I rise to take my dishes to the sink. The kitchen doors fly open and Ambrose barges in, looking like he heard it was the Apocalypse. “Kate told me I better hurry or there wouldn’t be any chouquettes left.”

“Don’t worry, ma puce,” Jeanne says, patting him on the arm. “I have a whole tray reserved just for you, coming out of the oven in a couple of minutes.”

Ambrose breathes a sigh of relief and sits down at the head of the table. Jeanne places a tumbler of milk in front of him, and he drains it in one go.

“See you tonight,” I say to Georgia.

“Dress nice,” she replies. “And by nice, I mean hot.”

I shake my head and leave the kitchen.

***

It’s roasting hot in the concert hall. My mouth is parched and sweat beads on my forehead as the warm-up group finishes its act. Georgia steers us to the bar just before the last song ends. Arthur, Vincent and I are standing at the front of the drink line, when I feel Kate speaking into my mind.

Guess who’s about to arrive?

Even though she’s volant, I can tell she’s teasing me.

“How is it that everyone at La Maison is aware of my completely innocent crush?” I murmur, knowing she can hear me despite the cacophony of voices and music.

How could anyone not know? Her words come straight into my brain.

“You know I’m a blusher,” I say, “so that’s just mean. I thought you were on my side.”

I’ve been Team Louis the whole way, she says. It’s just that shipping Team Louaka is so much more entertaining.

“LOUAKA?” I say out loud. “Oh my god. Are you kidding?”

Then I shut up because here he comes, making his way through the crowd, hotness incarnate. Liv follows, her hair braided in cornrows that end halfway down her back. She texts as she walks, not bothering to look up and check out the space.

Siaka smiles as he spots me. My heart performs a crazy jackknife in my chest. I call over the crowd, “What do you want to drink?”

He shakes his head and points to his ear—Can’t hear!—so I mime drinking out of a soda can. “Perrier!” he yells back, pointing between him and Liv.