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“Are you seeing him again?”
Grace thought about the chemistry. The easy flow of conversation. The looks they’d exchanged. The subtle touches. “I’m sure I will see him again. He’s invited me to a concert he’s playing in.”
“Cool.” Audrey picked up her fork and took a mouthful of her now cold breakfast. “I take full credit. It was the hair that did it. And the dress, of course.”
“I have a ticket for you, too, if you’d like to come.”
“Me? A classical concert? What if I don’t like it? I don’t know a single thing about music. Will you hate me?”
“Of course not. As long as you don’t make sick noises during the performance. You don’t have to know anything about it to enjoy it. How about you? Are you going to call Etienne?”
“No way. It’s embarrassing. I’m so mad at myself.” Audrey picked up her plate. “Why did I let them pressure me last night? Why didn’t I just say I don’t drink?”
“I’m guessing it’s because you really like him.”
“Yeah, there’s that. And people judge you if you don’t drink. They think you’re weird, or no fun. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you have to drink to be cool. Anyway, obviously he doesn’t think I’m cool because I didn’t even see him after he went to get a drink. He never came back. So this blinding headache and all that throwing up was for nothing. He probably did a runner with someone who speaks perfect French and can hold her drink.” She stood up and carried her plate through to the kitchen.
Seeing the tension in Audrey’s shoulders, Grace followed.
“You don’t know that’s what happened.”
“It’s what men do, isn’t it? They run when things get tough. I mean, technically your guy didn’t actually run, but he did leave. It’s easier than sticking.”
Grace sifted through the words and tried to find the deeper meaning. “You’ve seen it happen often?”
“Yes.” Audrey rinsed her plate. “I don’t blame them. My mum isn’t easy to live with. Love isn’t always a rosy, shiny thing, is it?”
“No.” Grace made more coffee. “It isn’t. How’s the headache?”
“Almost gone. You’re a genius.” Audrey glanced around her. “Shit—I mean, darn, I lost my purse last night.”
“I have it safe.” Grace put the coffee in front of her and toasted slices of French bread. She put it on the table along with creamy butter and a small bowl of apricot jam. “You barely touched your eggs. Eat a little more if you can.”
“You found my purse?”
“It was on the bathroom floor.”
“I have no recollection, but thanks.” Audrey sat back down at the table and spread butter and jam on the toast. “I guess that makes us even. A purse for a purse. Hey, I sound like Shakespeare!”
Grace laughed and handed over the purse. “It didn’t look as if anyone had tampered with it.”
“This toast is delicious, by the way.” Audrey ate toast with one hand and pulled the phone out of her purse with the other. “Woah, I have sixteen missed calls. Shit. Sixteen?” She caught Grace’s eye. “Sorry. Absolutely did not need to swear then, but it kind of slipped out. What can I say? I’m a work in progress and probably not about to rival Shakespeare any day soon. I hope it’s not my mum.”
“Is it?”
Audrey checked and shook her head. “They’re all Etienne. Sixteen missed calls.”
“I guess he didn’t do a runner, then.” As she said it, there was a knock on the door.
Grace stared at Audrey.
Audrey stared back and then swallowed. “Do you think it’s him?”
“If he has an ounce of decency, then it will be him. And if it is him, I might even forgive him for leaving you. Do you want me to answer?”
“You’d ignore the door for me?”
Grace discovered she’d do just about anything for Audrey. “If that’s what you want.”
