CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Marlow stepped into Guillaume’s bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She still felt numb after the face-off with her parents but was managing to hold it together until she got a WhatsApp from Noah.
Sorry that happened, Marlie. God. So harsh. What now?
And it was in that moment that she realized, she had no idea what the answer was.
What now?
It was only then that she broke down and cried. Her sobbing echoed off the walls, and she hoped no one could hear.
Blotches everywhere. Damn. A few splashes of cold water on her face helped.
The Cannes job was out of reach, obviously—it was the mythological Cannes, after all, the pinnacle of festivals, the Big Big Show—but she wanted to do the interview—and do well—because Guillaume had recommended her. What she really needed was Oscar’s job. It was the only way out of this mess.
You’ve got this,Marlow told herself, as she went to her laptop and clicked on the meeting link. But in truth, she wasn’t so sure.
Sabine sat at a table they’d put in the tiny Maison Perdue courtyard, Aubin snoozing on a blanket in the sun by her feet, shirt off, earphones on, arm draped over his eyes. The sun shone, it was peaceful, and they were watched over by the patron rabbit saint of Maison Perdue.
Two days had passed since their first driving lesson, and Sabine had made it to second gear. She eyed Aubin, looking divine, and wondered if making it to second gear was the car equivalent of making it to second base. What would that be like with Aubin? Maybe another walk in the Parc des Roches was in order.
She was working on a new tiny book:The Ten Best Things in France. The cover illustration was the jar of Nutella on the table before her with a hunk of baguette. She was trying to get the oval shape of the jar just right. Each drawing in the book was a study of the godly spread: Nutella on a piece of baguette, Nutella on a spoon, a close-up of the Nutella label … The text forThe Ten Best Things in Francewent like this:
Nutella
Nutella
Nutella
Nutella
Nutella
Nutella
Nutella
Nutella
Nutella
Nutella
She joined Aubin on the blanket, moved his arm to use it as a pillow, and leaned into his lean, muscular chest, warmed by the sun. She wanted to kiss him. Maybe she didn’t have to wait until Parc des Roches to try other things. She leaned in and bit his earlobe gently.
He cracked open an eye. “Strange, yet nice. What is this for?”
“Teaching me to drive standard.” She rested her chin on his pec.
“What else do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. Something. I’m not sure.”
“Well, when you decide, let me know.”
Sabine was contemplating that when she heard a familiar voice. “Hello?”
She looked up and saw her grandmother, flanked by her grandfather and Noah, and Guillaume behind them, holding two pieces of carry-on luggage. She was up like a shot.
