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‘Bellissimo!’ Marietta exclaimed.
Josephine beamed. ‘You will come and join us for dinner one evening before you leave, oui?’
‘Of course,’ she said, then, fearing she’d spoken out of turn, cast a quick glance at Nico.
But he simply murmured an assent that had Josephine looking pleased before she bustled back to the kitchen.
Marietta sipped her coffee and noticed the young couple get up to leave. The girl giggled and swayed, and her boyfriend caught her but he too was staggering. Grinning, he tossed some euros on the table and then guided the girl out onto the street towards a parked car—and Marietta’s belly clenched with alarm.
She dropped her cup into its saucer, reached across the table and grabbed Nico’s arm. ‘Stop them,’ she said urgently, and pointed with her other hand. ‘That couple—about to get into the red car. He’s drunk.’
Frowning, Nico glanced over his shoulder and then back at her. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Si. I was watching them.’ Panic tightened her grip on his arm. ‘Nico, please...’
He stood abruptly and strode out onto the street, calling something to the young man, who already had the driver’s door open. An exchange in French followed and the younger man’s demeanour morphed from jovial to belligerent—and then outright combative when Nico snatched his key away from him.
Nico, looking remarkably cool for a man who had just dodged a wildly thrown punch, pinned the tourist against the car, and then all of a sudden Luc and his father Philippe were there, helping to defuse the situation.
The tension eased from Marietta’s shoulders but an icy chill had gripped her and her hands shook. She curled them tight, closed her eyes for a minute.
‘Marietta?’
She looked up. Nico was crouched beside her chair, and she searched over his shoulder for the couple.
‘They’re inside,’ he told her. ‘Josephine’s encouraging them to stay, to drink some water and coffee, have something to eat.’
She nodded, grateful, and yet still the iciness inside her wouldn’t abate. She had been that girl once—young and beautiful, with her whole life ahead of her. If only someone had stopped her and her friends from getting into that car...
She shook her head. Dispelled the thought. She knew better than to dwell on if only. She picked up her cup, took a fortifying gulp of coffee, felt relieved when Nico stood. He returned to his chair but then studied her, and her skin heated and prickled despite the chill in her veins.
‘You did a good thing.’
‘We did a good thing,’ she corrected.
He shrugged. ‘You were the one who noticed them—and you were right. The kid’s way over the limit.’
Marietta wrapped her hands around her cup. Stared into the dark brew. ‘I couldn’t watch them get into that car.’
Nico was silent a moment. ‘Your accident?’
She looked up. ‘You know about that?’
‘Only what your brother told me—that your paralysis resulted from a car crash.’
Her stomach gave a hard, vicious twist. It always did when
she recalled her fragmented memories of that night. The mangled wreckage and broken glass. The whimpers of the girl dying beside her. Her own pain and then—worse—no pain at all. Nothing but numbness and fear.
Her grip on her cup tightened. ‘I was young and stupid...drinking at a party Leo hadn’t wanted me to attend. I knew my friend had had too much to drink when he offered me a ride.’ She grimaced. It was never easy to admit your own stupidity. ‘I still got into that car.’
‘And your friend...?’ Nico asked quietly.
‘He and the two girls in the car with us died.’ She pushed her cup aside, her mouth too bitter suddenly for coffee. ‘I was the only survivor.’
‘I’m sorry, Marietta.’
Nico’s voice was deep and sincere, but she told herself the warmth spreading through her belly was from the coffee, not the effect of that rich, soothing baritone. ‘I made a mistake and I live with the consequences of that mistake every day,’ she said. ‘If I can stop someone else from suffering a similar fate, I will.’
