Chapter 35
35
MINNIE AND JESSE
Now
The bees hummed under the window again, but it was the sound of a moped starting in the distance, and Caryn going off to the Saturday market in Pernes, that woke Minnie. Sunshine streamed through the blue shutters and Jesse watched her eyelashes flicker.
Minnie was half asleep, the warmth of the morning making her pale skin look luminescent. Jesse stroked her cheek with his thumb. Marvelling at the sweep of her thick black lashes.
She stirred.
He waited.
‘Hmmm.’ She stretched. She rolled over towards Jesse’s chest and put her hand on it, comforted by the touch of his skin, by the feel of his arms around her, the scents rolling in through the open window.
Her eyes flickered open and Jesse was startled by the alarming beauty of her pale green irises as the colour crept out and her pupils shrank. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but he feared that Minnie’s was a face that might break his heart. Within the hour, she would.
‘Good morning,’ Jesse said, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.
‘Morning.’ She smiled into another stretch, self-consciously covering her yawn.
Minnie’s features settled again and Jesse ran his thumb across her eyebrow.
‘I have never seen anyone so beautiful in my life,’ he whispered in quiet awe.
Minnie wrinkled her nose. ‘My morning face leaves a lot to be desired.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Jesse proved his vehemence by dotting kisses on her forehead, cheeks and chin, as though he were rooting himself to the four points of a compass.
‘And my crying face…’ Minnie said, totally crumpling her features. ‘My crying face is definitely not anything to behold.’
‘Your crying face is stunningly beautiful,’ Jesse said, unwavering.
Minnie opened her eyes properly and looked up at Jesse until he came into focus. A sudden flinch washed over him, which made her jar. She sat up and wrapped the sheet under her armpits as if it were a dress, creating a curtain, a divide, between them.
‘How do you know what my crying face looks like?’ The question had an undertone of accusation.
Minnie thought back to the Jardin du Luxembourg and whether she had been sobbing when Jesse arrived. She definitely hadn’t been crying. She had been angry and despondent, but she hadn’t shed a tear over Wim Fischer in front of Jesse.
Jesse looked flummoxed and sat up against the wrought iron bedstead, his forearms flexing as he rubbed the back of his hair.
Suddenly everything felt as jagged as the Dora Maar painting they had seen in the house in Ménerbes. The energy changed in such a quick stroke. Minnie felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.
‘Er…’
She thought through a mental scroll of her showreels, her Instagram posts, any work Jesse might have found on YouTube.
‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘You cheated. You looked me up!’ Minnie didn’t know whether to be outraged or flattered. ‘You broke the rules!’
‘I didn’t, I promise. I didn’t know your name – I don’t know your name – this is crazy!’ Minnie was startled by how flustered he suddenly seemed. He looked as frazzled as he had when she’d first seen him in Bondiga’s Books all those weeks ago. Not like the relaxed man she had fallen for in France.
‘So… when did you see me cry?’
And suddenly Jesse’s face looked much graver than she could ever have imagined.