Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Author's Note
- · PLAYLIST ·
- · ONE ·
- · TWO ·
- · THREE ·
- · FOUR ·
- · FIVE ·
- · SIX ·
- · SEVEN ·
- · EIGHT ·
- · NINE ·
- · TEN ·
- · ELEVEN ·
- · TWELVE ·
- · THIRTEEN ·
- · FOURTEEN ·
- · FIFTEEN ·
- · SIXTEEN ·
- · SEVENTEEN ·
- · EIGHTEEN ·
- · NINETEEN ·
- · TWENTY ·
- · TWENTY-ONE ·
- · TWENTY-TWO ·
- · TWENTY-THREE ·
- · TWENTY-FOUR ·
- · TWENTY-FIVE ·
- · TWENTY-SIX ·
- · TWENTY-SEVEN ·
- · TWENTY-EIGHT ·
- · TWENTY-NINE ·
- · THIRTY ·
- · THIRTY-ONE ·
- · THIRTY-TWO ·
- · THIRTY-THREE ·
- · THIRTY-FOUR ·
- · THIRTY-FIVE ·
- · THIRTY-SIX ·
- · THIRTY-SEVEN ·
- · ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ·
- · DISCUSSION QUESTIONS ·
- Kate
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Maman, this is Bea Wilmot, my girlfriend.” Bea’s grip tightens on my arm. “Bea, this is my mother, Aline Westenberg.”
Bea smiles nervously. “Nice to meet you.”
“Enchantée.” My mother draws her in for a perfume-soaked hug and kisses her once on each cheek. Turning back to me, she says in French, “Please make sure you find your father first. He’ll feel slighted otherwise. Speak to the appropriate people and make introductions. Otherwise, you’re free. Have some champagne. Dinner is in an hour.”
“Yes, Maman. I know what’s expected,” I tell her in French, because it’s my default with her. “You don’t have to worry.”
She shrugs, eyes already on the guests behind us. “Just trying to keep you out of trouble.”
Like that ever worked. I kiss her on each cheek. “Enjoy the night.”
As soon as we’re past her, Bea yanks my hand, earning my attention. “What the hell, Jamie?” she hisses.
“What?” I ask, utterly confused. “Is something wrong? Did I—”
“You speak French?”
My mouth parts, but I’m not sure what to say. “Ehrm. Yes?”
“And you never thought to tell me?”
“I’m . . . sorry?”
“Not forgiven.” She drags me to the edge of the foyer for a kiss that melts every worry our confusing conversation’s caused. “French on your tongue makes me want to do filthy, filthy things to it.”
Oh Christ. Heat floods me. My tongue. Beatrice. I’m aching for it. “I—yes, let’s. Absolutely. Let’s go.”
Bea laughs, gently pushing me away and threading our fingers together. “Champagne and a dancing disaster first. French later.”
I kiss her again, hard, desperate. “As you wish, mon cœur.”
· TWENTY-SEVEN ·
Bea
“Mon cœur?” I frown up at Jamie as he brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “What’s that mean?”
He grins. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Tease.”
His grin deepens as he slips an arm around my waist. “Takes one to know one.”
A woman in a silver dress sweeps by me, suddenly reminding me of Jules, how anxious I am to find her and make sure she’s all right. Before Jamie knocked on my apartment door, then nearly knocked me over with how good he looked, I was worried about my sister. We went from plans for more or less a double date—though I wasn’t too keen on spending a forty-five-minute drive out of the city with Jean-Claude—to her telling me they’d be driving alone, on some bogus excuse about Jean-Claude wanting them to be able to leave when they felt like it.