Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
JEMMA
The walk home is quiet.
Luca hasn’t said much since we left his brother’s house. I keep stealing glances at him, trying to figure out what’s changed. His mind seems far away, and his expression is just as distant.
Does this have to do with what his brother said in the kitchen—“You need to tell Jemma”? Part of me would rather not know what Henri meant, since I have a place to stay now. But the part of me that’s falling for him needs to know. Could it have something to do with Colette?
As the last bit of daylight falls behind the horizon, because apparently lunch is an all-afternoon event in France, I bite my bottom lip, mustering up the nerve to ask him, hoping I don’t regret it.
Clearing my throat, my question tumbles out, “What were you and your brother talking about in the kitchen? It seemed like you were deep in conversation.”
His eyes remain fixed ahead. “You were in the kitchen?” he asks, his tone evasive.
Answering a question with a question—not a good start.
“I wanted to make myself useful, so I brought in some dishes.”
“Oh.” He nods thoughtfully, but still offers no answer.
“I heard my name before I left,” I press.
Straight-faced, he responds, “Everyone was talking about you all day. It’s uncommon for one of us to bring someone new around. I’m sure Henri was just saying how well the boys took to you. That’s all.”
Suddenly, I’m questioning whether I heard the words that I thought I heard.
I’ve been paranoid since I arrived. Maybe I’m self-sabotaging a good thing.
After all, I’m not fluent in French. I probably misheard or misinterpreted the conversation.
I should feel flattered that he brought me home and everyone—well, the English speakers—seemed to enjoy my company.
And the boys did say Colette and Luca are fighting, so perhaps there’s nothing left to discuss, anyway.
A flicker of contentment washes over me, reminding me that all this anxiety might be a product of my own wild imagination.
I open my mouth, ready to change the subject, but Luca cuts me off.
“I have some things I need to take care of.” He abruptly stops on the sidewalk, catching me off guard.
I’m sure the look of disappointment etched on my face is strikingly clear under the pale glow from the picturesque lamppost he chose to stop beneath.
“Do you remember the way to my apartment from here?” he asks casually.
My stomach contracts. Why does he want to leave me? Is it because of what I just asked him?
I nod, pulling my coat tighter around me as gray, angry clouds and wind roll in, as if mirroring my feelings.
He reaches his hand into his pocket and passes me a key. “The code for the main entrance is 0830, and this key will get you into my apartment. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, so don’t wait up. Just leave the apartment door unlocked for me, alright?”
I nod once more, stunned in place.
“I’ll get you your own key tomorrow. That way, you can come and go as you please. And if you need to leave for dinner—”
“Oh, there’s no way I can eat another bite tonight,” I interrupt, managing a small laugh to mask my discomfort. “I think I’ll probably spend the evening job hunting and then turn in early. The jetlag is catching up with me.”
Lies. All Lies.
Luca frowns slightly. “But you’re on vacation, Jemma. I wish you’d enjoy yourself more while you’re here.”
I huff. “I’d enjoy myself more if you weren’t abandoning me on the street corner.”
“It-it’s not like that,” Luca stammers.
I pivot, twisting on my heels, unable to hold back my emotions any longer. “It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything,” I say under my breath as I dash away into the darkness, tears pooling in my eyes.