One Summer in Paris

She turned, burning up with humiliation and saw Grace frowning.

“Audrey—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m an idiot, I know. I don’t listen properly. I’ve had a long day, I’m tired, I’m not thinking straight—”

“It’s this one.” Grace stood up and walked to a different door.

“Thanks. I knew that.” Audrey pushed past her. This wasn’t a treat, it was torture.

She locked the door and stared in the mirror, willing herself to get back under control.

She had to get out of here. She’d say she felt sick.

And she was never, ever eating with some stranger she’d never met before, even if they seemed kind on the surface. Her mother was kind occasionally, but it was like petting a dog. You never knew when it might bite.

Taking a deep breath, she left the bathroom. “Actually, I’m not feeling too good, so I thought I’d take off.”

“Oh!” Grace looked startled. “Why? We haven’t eaten yet.”

“Look—I—” Audrey glanced around desperately, wishing she’d never come. Even for a free meal, this wasn’t worth it. “This place isn’t me, okay?”

Grace gave a faint smile. “It isn’t me, either. Why do you think I invited you here tonight? I couldn’t face eating in that stuffy restaurant on my own again. Please stay, Audrey. It’s a lovely sunny evening. It will be fun. I was thinking that we could people watch from the balcony. How do you like your steak?”

Audrey stood frozen, torn between wanting to get the hell out of here and consume a free steak. The hunger pains won. “Cooked?”

Grace walked to the phone. She spoke in rapid and fluent French that left Audrey feeling more inadequate than ever and then joined her on the balcony.

The view was incredible.

Audrey fished around for something to say. “So how long are you staying here?”

“I booked a month, but I’m not sure I’m going to make it that long.” Grace sat down.

Everything about her was tidy, Audrey thought. Her dress was ironed and perfect, and she was wearing tights. Who wore tights in summer?

“This place would be, like, most people’s dream.”

“I think with the right person, it might be.” Grace stared across the flower-festooned balcony toward the Eiffel Tower.

You didn’t need to be a genius to work out she was thinking about her husband.

Why did anyone bother with love when it was so complicated?

“So your husband left and you were stuck with this holiday. You didn’t have anyone else you could bring?” Audrey sipped her water. “Do you have kids?”

“I have a daughter the same age as you. She’s traveling with a friend this summer. I miss her terribly, but don’t tell her I said that. I expect your mother feels the same way about you.”

Audrey knew for a fact her mother wouldn’t be missing her at all. She hadn’t been in touch with Audrey, except to reply to a text.

Fortunately she’d had an email from Ron earlier, telling her not to worry about her mother.

She wasn?

?t sure it was good news that he seemed to realize there was something to worry about.

“You should probably immediately take a French lover. The hottest guy you can find.”

“And what? Post his picture all over social media?”