Guillaume shot a look at Luc. Marlow couldn’t help thinking this was like those BBC Earth mini docs where one male fox sees another invading his territory, vying for the single female fox, and does something to show his dominance.
“Agreed,” said Luc. “Mirabelle could use a sixth citizen.”
Uh oh. Yup, Luc was definitely the second male fox and she was the female fox and Guillaume was a bigger fox than Luc—the leaner fox but just as fit—and she was going to stop thinking about foxes right now. She had been fought over … never. Two men, each with his own distinct charms and world view, vying for her hand. Maybe less BBC Earth and more Victorian novel? Whichever. She’d take it.
The Maison Perdue door opened. “I’ve made a decision,” said Ruth.
“I’m going to the Sorbonne,” said Sabine, elated. Her future was finally set.
“Brilliant,” said Aubin.
“Oh God. You were supposed to go there. I’m sorry.”
He took her hands. “I may go one day but not now. I’m not ready. But you will go and do so well. You will live with Yves and make up for lost time. It is all wonderful.”
She and Aubin were close. She could see his chest rise and fall with his breath. See his heart beating. A current passed through them. They looked at the bed and burst out laughing.
“My father is a bit relaxed about the rules,” said Sabine. “My mother, however, would have a meltdown if she knew we were sleeping in the same bed.”
“I’ll sleep in the living room.”
“It’s fine,” she blurted. Were they really going to share a bed? What if they got carried away? She’d never slept with anyone and intended to keep it that way for now. “I don’t want my dad to think we had a fight, and I don’t feel like telling him you’re not my boyfriend.”
He gazed at her. “Am I your boyfriend?”
She swallowed, not knowing where to look. “I mean—you’re a boy. And you’re a friend. And I kissed you—”
“A lot.”
“But now we’re not kissing.”
“We could.” The mere possibility made her heart do a little dance. But she needed to control it. This. All of this.
“You will take the cushions from that big chair and sleep on the floor,” she said.
They turned out the light and dropped their jeans so they were each in a T-shirt and underwear. She slipped between the sheets; he lay on the carpet. Outside, late-night sounds of the Quartier Latin filtered in. People drinking in bars and spilling out into the street. Jazz.
“I’m going to the Sorbonne,” she whispered. “I mean, I still have to apply, and it’s late—they’d have to make an allowance for how late I’m applying, but—”
“You will get in. And if I’m lucky, you might really call me your boyfriend at some point.”
She reached down and interlocked her fingers with his.
“I want to buy Maison Perdue,” said Ruth, standing on Marlow’s doorstep. “If you haven’t fallen in love with it yourself.”
Marlow gasped. “That’s great!”
“Here’s my thinking. I booked a tour around the Châteaux de la Loire. It’s even got a hot air balloon ride. I’m sixty-nine, and I’m going up in a balloon! My husband would either be happy or call me a fool, I’m not sure which. Anyway, I’ll be gone for two weeks. Meanwhile, I’ll dream up an offer to cover your one euro and the work you’ve put in so far.”
“Really? Truly?” said Marlow in disbelief.
“Of course. You paid for the flights over here, you’ve done all this work already, Luc will need to be paid for his work—I think you deserve it.”
“Oh, Ruth! How wonderful!” Marlow couldn’t believe her luck.
“And Luc,” said Ruth, “I’m going to need more of your services as we go forward, so be on standby. I’m a lot of things, but handy isn’t one of them.”
“At your service,” said Luc. Marlow shot him a grateful glance.
