The Musician (Emerson Pass Historicals 5)

“I think that’s what she wants,” I said, before explaining that her father’s opinion would have to be considered before anything was finalized.

“And what about you?” Sandwich asked. “Are you going home with her or will you stay? It seems you belong here with us.”

No, I thought. I belong wherever Fiona is.

“Yes, you’re a freak like us,” Saffron said. “You should stay in Paris. Let her go home with the boys without you. We’ll have such fun and never let the party end.” She stared at me, as if she’d just presented a riddle for me to solve. “Well, what will it be? Stay or go? You must choose one way or the other.”

“Indecision is no man’s friend,” Sandwich said. “Or woman’s.”

“Why do I feel you’re giving me a test?” I asked, without humor.

“Because we are,” Saffron said.

“We’re thoroughly disgusted with you, if you must know.” Sandwich’s mouth curved into a smirk. Her eyes drilled a hole through me.

“Running from love should be a crime,” Saffron said.

“Especially when one loves as you love Fiona,” Sandwich said.

They swept out of the shop without another word. I stood there, flabbergasted. Was it obvious to everyone how I felt about Fiona?

I took in a deep breath and then gathered up the boys. “Time to go home,” I said. “Fiona’s waiting.”