Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Lizzy’s phone chirped, and she cringed. As always, Jane’s timing was impeccable. Her gut cautioned against checking the texts, but when William glanced at her phone, raising an eyebrow, she thought twice.
“Someone clearly wants to speak with you,” he said.
“It’s my sister ... for like the twenty-fifth time in two days.”
“That kind of persistence implies importance.”
“Ah, but that depends on whose perspective we’re talking about. To Jane, everything is a four-alarm fire where she’s concerned.”
“Still, it’s always best to err on the side of caution for your own peace of mind,” he offered, and she gave in, scrolling through the texts, half-reading and mentally discarding the content with invisible eye rolls and imagined face palms. These were tame compared to the time she went to Berlin for an acquisition.
Still, even with an entire ocean separating them, her heart raced, and her stomach roiled, just as they had in the car on the drive back from the Hamptons.
- Where the hell are you?
- I’ve had it with this shithole apartment you saddled me with.
I have a good mind to contact the city about the deplorable conditions you’re forcing me to reside in.
Now the air conditioner is broken, and the fat, lazy super isn’t answering my calls!
You’d better contact him, or I’m calling the city to file a complaint.
They’ll shut this slum down in minutes and rue the day they ever effed with me. You know how I hate the heat.
- Lizzy, I just heard startling news. You MUST stop what you’re doing and call me!
- I broke my toe, tripping over the box of crap you were supposed to have picked up last week. Text me back. I can’t walk!
- WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? I NEED YOU!!!!
- OMG! I just saw Charlie with another woman! Cheating loser!
- Please call me, Lizzy. I miss you. I can’t understand why you are ignoring me. I’m so lonely with you so far away. ? (heart emoji) You’re such a great sister!
- Wow. I guess I don’t matter to you at all if you can’t take the time to reply, but then again, you’re always so self-centered. All you care about is your failing gallery.
- ??????(middle finger x3 emoji)
- You’ll never guess who reached out to me. At least he shows concern for my well-being. Stay in Paris as long as you like. I really don’t care. I’ve got myself a new man! Charlie—and you—can go fuck yourselves.
“Anything important?” William asked, as though reading her expression.
“Nothing the Sixth Arrondissement won’t cure,” she told him, attaching the phone to her handlebars without texting a reply.
Damn. She had finally started to feel like her old self.
“Next stop Pont-Neuf,” she cheerfully said, pretending that her sister flipping her the bird didn’t matter.
She would not allow Jane’s attention grab to ruin the wonderful day spent with the love of her life.
Back in the day, William had been able to read her distress when it came to Jane. He scrutinized her, but refrained from commenting, finally softly smiling.
They rode in silence for a bit, her mind preoccupied by the texts and the emotional breakdown she suspected happening in Queens. She should have listened to her intuition and ignored Jane’s intrusion.
“Hey, Lizzy. You can still talk to me, you know,” he said. “I won’t judge.”
“I know—you never did. Thanks. It’s all good. I’ll deal with whatever it is when I get back. For now, you have a bridge to cross.”
“Maybe we both do.”
“Yeah. I’m working on it, but it’s complicated and I have to tread lightly. Well, here it is, the famous Pont-Neuf!”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s famous here. I think it’s the oldest stone bridge in Paris, about 500 years old.”
“Um, there’s a lot of traffic. You led me to believe it was a little footbridge.”
She turned in her seat, putting Jane to the back of her mind. “You’ll be fine, William. It’s only the Seine, not the East River. Just remember to stay in the bike lane.”
“Right.”
“Do you want me to follow instead of leading?” she asked.
“No. I prefer to follow you.”
She couldn’t help chortling. “That’s not always wise.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. The one time I didn’t follow you, it cost me big time.”
“And look at what you gained without me in your way. Look at how happy, in love, and successful you became in just six and a half short years.”
“I was talking about the Seurat costing me millions more than intended, not the direction of my life.”
“Same thing.” She coyly batted her eyelashes and smiled.
“Can we walk the bikes across?”
“We could, but ... so, what’s the worst that can happen?” she asked.
“I could get hit by a truck, or I could drive off the bridge into the water, or something could happen to you.”
“Okay, if you stay in the lane, you won’t get hit by a truck. It’s a stone bridge, so there’s no way you can drive off it, and if something happens to me, then you just saved yourself from paying my commission on the Seurat.”
Running his hand through his hair, he glanced out at the calm river. “What’s on the other side?”
“The best part of Parisian life and the most amazing croissant in the city. William, you can do this, but I’m right here if you can’t. Trust me. It’s okay.”
“Well, I guess. Okay. I’ll lead.”
“And I’ll follow you anywhere,” she said, meaning it. “I promise, you’ll be fine, and you’ll love the journey and the destination.”
And, just like that, he was off, riding through the traffic like he’d done it a thousand times, but she was sure he gritted his teeth, maybe even death-gripped the handlebars.
Some things hadn’t changed about William, maybe they never would.
As expert a swimmer as he was, he still feared bridges.
Maybe that was the hidden metaphor for how he viewed life.
For someone who had tight control over most aspects of his orderly existence, the fear of the unknown—the unexpected—on the other side or down below in the murky water, made him uneasy.
He couldn’t control what was outside his analytical or proficient grasp.
They didn’t speak during the entire expanse, but she could hear his breath hitch every once and a while until he finally stopped where the bridge met the Left Bank. Turning in his seat with a heart-stopping smile, he watched her catch up.
“See, you’re still alive!” she declared.
“The day’s early yet,” he chuckled.
“True. That was huge! I don’t mean to sound condescending, but ... I’m proud of you. ”
“You know, so am I.”
“Well, Mr. Darcy, Saint-Germain-des-Prés awaits,” she said.
Riding along the Quai de Conti, she pointed out the amazing architecture and several restaurants, once too rich for her student purse.
“I used to walk along this at night. It’s beautiful!
The building to your left is the Institut de France, but wait until you see the Beaux Arts.
It is way more amazing, but I might be a little biased,” she said.
“I can see why you love it here. Did you paint along the Seine?”
“I did. Notre Dame is on that island below the Pont-Neuf. I spent a lot of time sketching ?le de la Cité from the Quai de Conti vantage point.”
She turned down another street, then a cobbled one, chuckling when he cursed.
“And here we are!” she announced, stopping the bike in front of the best, unknown patisserie in the city. The charming Rue de Lille hummed with life and a vibrancy not even TriBeCa had, and her soul came alive in the culturally infused air.
William pulled up beside her, his cheeks flushed from the heat. “I gotta admit, Lizzy. This was a great idea.”
“See, stick with me, kid, and I’ll show you a good time, not like that, of course ... because you’re my client—and engaged, but ... you know what I mean.”
He smiled and looked like he was about to say something but didn’t.
Nearly bouncing in her Chuck Taylors, she removed her earbuds, then jumped off the bike, running past the bistro tables into the café.
And there he was: her dear friend, René, the fellow art student who helped her to not only acclimate to Parisian life but also get her mind off William until Anne died.
His bright smile lit the establishment. Like the café, René looked unchanged, down to his mess of wavy, black hair and signature sideburns.
“Squeeee! It’s you!” she exclaimed.
Coming out from behind the counter, he swept her into his arms, twirling her around. They spoke in French, just like years ago when speaking English was taboo as she tried to learn the language. “Coucou! You came back to me, chérie!”
Laughing she said, “I told you I would.”
They kissed on both cheeks. “Ha! You only came for mon père’s feuilleté. I know you too well!”
“Maybe,” she laughed, hugging him again. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“I have missed you. Nothing was the same after you left. There was no one to laugh at my jokes. A text meme is not a joke.”
“I like your memes, and Terese likes your jokes.”
“Ach! My sister is engaged to a German! She does not laugh anymore.”
René ran his hand down her arm. “Look at how grown up you are! You must tell me about yesterday and the Seurat.”
“Oh, René, it was so exciting.” She caught a glimpse of William awkwardly watching them. “Forgive me, William. Where are my manners?” All smiles, she said, “René Garnier, this is ... my client—and friend—the new owner of The Seine at Courbevoie 1885, William Darcy.”
“?a va?” In broken English René addressed William with a look of astonishment. “I never thought this would be. It is an honor to meet the famous William, the nude model!”
She held back her laughter. Poor guy.
“Bonjour.” William postured, holding out his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you, René. I don’t know about famous, but definitely not nude.” He narrowed his eyes at her, jokingly.
“Ha! Not a day went by that this one did not speak of you. I hated you because she would not date me. I could not win her affections, and now I see why!”