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Noah sniffs and nods. ‘Yeah. Yeah, for sure.’
I pull him into my arms, inhaling the smell of warmth and sweetness, like cutting into warm, fresh bread. ‘You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
‘Oh fuck, Gabi,’ he says over my shoulder. ‘You won’t make this easy for me, will you?’ He pulls away, shaking off the melancholy as he wipes a hand down his face. ‘I love you, you awful man.’
‘I know. I love you too.’
He picks up his backpack and with a tight smile, fishes out his boarding pass, handing it to the patient flight attendant.
‘See you in twelve months, then, I guess.’
Noah steps to the other side of the desk. A small movement, but now he’s out of reach, in a different construct of space.
Our time is up.
This chapter of my life is over.
I cry all the way back to Paris.
Epilogue
One year later
Noah
‘There’s a snowstorm,’ Margie says four days before the Australian Open is scheduled to start. ‘It’s causing havoc across France, Switzerland and Austria. That’s probably why.’
‘Causing havoc with my life, that’s what it’s doing.’ Gabriel’s supposed to be getting heretomorrow.In less than twenty-four hours. ‘What if they can’t get out? How long are snowstorms supposed to last?’
Margie pats my shoulder as she steps back into the kitchen. ‘Try not to think about it,’ she says, like it’s a switch I can flip. ‘Do something to take your mind off it. Don’t you have an assignment due on the weekend?’
‘Sunday night and I’m stuck on it,’ I say as I take Sadie’s leash instead. Margie gives me a disapproving look. ‘The walk will help me work it out.’
‘Can you get milk while you’re out?’ Margie asks. ‘Lamb chops for tea—that all right?’
‘Sounds good,’ I half shout back over Sadie’s barking.
Opening the flyscreen door, Sadie launches herself onto the porch. I barely have time to grab the spare keys and a library book that needs returning before she’s pulling me towards the front gate. Luckily, once she’s on the footpath she chills out a bit and doesn’t pull as hard.
We pass Carlton Library and I slipThe Count of Monte Cristothrough the return slot. We’ve been on a real classics binge for some reason. Last month we readLittle Womentogether, and the month before wasPride and Prejudice. I tie Sadie to a pole outside while I collect this month’s book,The Call of the Wild, and the newly published sequel to the book in the young adult crime series I’d started reading on Daydream Island. Gabriel hadn’t rated it, but I’m sucked in.
I hadn’t really been a reader before Gabriel. Sure, I read in school, but English wasn’t my favourite subject and I’d never read a book for fun. Since I’ve started reading them to Gabriel—whether our schedules allow us to jump on a call together or I record segments for him to play back—I’ve been reading more and more. Gabriel’s English has also improved. He says words like ‘benevolence’ now. Unfortunately, it’s given him ideas about helping me improve my French—which still isn’t great. I’m learning via an app because I don’t have the money to pay for classes, and occasionally Gabriel will try to speak to me just in French, but we always revert to English. There are only so many times we can talk about my favourite fruits, or what we had for lunch, or name different kinds of animals. I think it must be like talking to a toddler. Gabriel says it’s cute.
Every second Thursday is jazz night at the Flamingo Bar. Gabriel’s never seen me perform, and tomorrow was supposed to be our night—the big return. I keep checking the weather apps. Apparently, a couple of planes have managed to fly out of Paris, but otherwise the wild weather is supposed to stay.
The snow hadn’t been that bad when I’d been in Paris over Christmas, but Gabriel had loaned me one of his puffer jackets and I was loath to give it back to him by the end of the trip.
When I get back to the house, I make good on my word and finish my assignment before bed. Only two more assignments before the end of the summer bridging term—and then I’ll have officially graduated high school. We’ve already researched French universities where I could take courses in English. Or online universities where I can study from wherever. Wherever Gabriel is, I suppose.
Leaving Australia is something we’ve discussed all year. It’ll be hard but I think it’s the right choice for me—and Margie agrees. Dad’s in prison on federal drug charges for an operation that happened right under my nose, and the officers handling the case say Mum’s in witness protection. It explains why, after all this time, she’s never contacted me.
There’s a chance she might come out of protection soon, but I was also given the option to move into protection with her. It would mean giving upeverything—Peaches and Margie and the Rosewood and Melbourne and, most importantly, Gabriel. I know Mum wouldn’t want that for me. I know we’ll be together again, eventually.
I still work at the Rosewood, and have become friends with a lot of the team. I don’t say no to after-shift drinks, and a few months ago, we went out partying in Chapel Street. I’d walked past Mark’s Place for the first time since January and seen the For Sale sign in the window. A part of me had wanted to tell Gabriel, but he’d likely come back with some ridiculous answer like ‘Let’s buy it!’ Hopefully the new owners treat the place with the respect it deserves.
I wake up to see Gabriel has sent me a message—We made it to Dubai! Be there soon—along with a photo of Victor and Bernard looking how one would expect them to look after twelve hours of delays. My heart swells at the thought of seeing them all again, though we’d just spent Christmas together. I suppose this is what it feels like to be a part of a family.
When I arrive at the Flamingo Bar, Peaches is in the middle of warming up. I’m not really sure how it happened, but we’ve become a thing. She’s a bloody good singer and we’ve developed a strong backlist of jazz, blues and swing covers, and hey, if sometimes we lean closer to the Michael Bublé versions than the originals, that’s no one’s business. The man knows how to entertain.
