Sabrina was ripping apart every argument I’d fought inside my soul for hours. I laughed as I repeated another answer I’d constructed. “I don’t speak French.”
She took out her phone and showed the app she was using to learn Spanish. “There are apps to teach you, classes you can take or maybe your handsome, rich, available French doctor can give you private lessons.”
I put my shoes away and shook my head. “I don’t know.”
She followed me into the kitchen and helped herself to an apple.
I guess I was wrong. I had friends to share fruit with, but that wasn’t the same at all as having someone lay beside me.
“Let’s go over Marlon.”
“Ugh.” I took out two bowls of ice cream. I scooped for us and waited for her to start the conversation.
“How was he there and on your flight?”
I handed her a bowl. “He was arrested in Monte Carlo. According to the stewardess, he had the choice of prison or getting out of the country, never to come back.”
“What the fuck did he do?”
I dipped my spoon in my dessert. “He threatened a woman physically, but she kicked his ass.”
“At least it wasn’t you,” she said and continued to devour the mint chocolate chip.
I finished my scoop and walked to the sink. “It might have been if not for Quentin.”
She put her empty bowl beside mine. “And he protected you. Seriously, if you don’t get on a plane and go to him, I’m going to go myself and see if he’ll fall in love with me.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“You don’t want him.”
“I… can’t talk about it.” Sabrina was larger than life. One day she’d find the perfect man for her and leave. I washed out the dishes and set them to dry. “Look, thanks for bringing me home.”
She headed to the door and waved as she said, “If you need a ride to the airport, call me.”
“Okay, thanks.” I followed her and hugged her as she left.
For a best friend, I had a good one. I unpacked my laptop, turned on my TV to stream music, and found some light jazz. Then I tapped my couch I’d settled on and searched, American marrying a French citizen.
No harm in checking, right?
I laughed as I started researching my “what if” fantasy.
I’d walked away, afraid to tell him how I felt.
Honestly, I’d been terrified he’d never love me. I hadn’t thought about how empty my life was until the huge room we were in just made me feel cold and sad. “I’m sure this search will just be bad.”
And there it was. We couldn’t be together right away if he somehow flew to me. And if I flew to him, and in some alternative universe he asked me to marry him, then I was looking at six months of doing nothing but sitting at home. I stared at my white ceiling. “Right, exactly. I can’t work right away. I don’t know the language. And he doesn’t love me.”
I almost closed the computer and then remembered I’d told myself I’d look Quentin up. He probably had more money than just being a doctor. He traveled with a tuxedo and stayed at that hotel I’d never book. I could afford a night, but my budget would be squeezed. He hadn’t blinked.
So, I typed what I knew. La Trimouille. Saint-Cyr-sur-Mer. Vineyard.
And then my skin had a buzz to it. “No fucking way.” I read every word carefully of the vineyard with his name on it in the “about us” section. Noble family that goes back to the 11th century who served in the crusades… Married royalty in Naples… Staunch royalists during the revolution, forced to flee, but then returned and fought with Napoleon as generals. The family claimed lands in the south. Started a vineyard and their wines sell around the globe. I jumped out of my seat. “What the fuck… This isn’t a vineyard, it’s a global empire.”
And aristocratic at its heart. My lineage wasn’t nearly so fancy. My ancestors were survivors, not castle dwellers.
My heart pounded now. He was rich. I should just search him out. I typed the obvious as it came to me, Quentin La Trimouille. Doctor.
The articles were sparse but basically all read the same, Engaged to Cecilia Le Champs. Award-winning doctor.
I clicked his ex’s picture. She really did look like the French beauties of the movies. Small, childlike wonder in the eyes, all black outfit.
I’d never be anything like her. I closed the screen. “I shouldn’t have looked this up anyhow.”
Searches only made my heart hurt.
I headed to my kitchen and opened the wine drawer. I took out my red and laughed as I saw the name, Trimouille, printed on my bottle. I told the picture that must be his vineyard, “Oh look, you’re here. I stocked you in my wine shelf, and I didn’t once connect these dots.”
I poured a glass and saluted the air around me with a toast. “Well, Quentin, you’re probably the best man I’ll ever meet in my life. I am in love with you, and I’m a fucking idiot for not telling you.” I pulled the glass closer and said, “Salut” like he was here.
And then I sipped. From now on, this was all I had—this emptiness in my soul. I could buy every bottle at the store with his name on it. Maybe someday I’d feel better about coming home.
This was my life, right? Living happily ever after with a rich, handsome doctor and moving to France wasn’t an option. I’d walked away.
Chapter 17
Quentin
My parents had seemed excited this morning. Every other time my brother Blake was ever mentioned, the next day was an awkward morning when we discussed our headaches.
Today we’d spoken about politics and world affairs like we had answers to the world problems. This meant instead of isolating themselves, they’d read the news and formed opinions.
After coffee and croissants and fruit, I headed into town. I read the doctor’s files in his office as he saw a woman in the adjoining room about her wrist.
People from a hundred kilometers or more came here to see the closest doctor. Our small town was the closest place to be seen, and if I didn’t take over… my grandmother, my parents, their neighbors, and friends were without any healthcare, except maybe someone who telecommuted in.
As the patient left, I remembered Kara’s note. She’d hoped I’d be a doctor and maybe she’d like this. Saving Marlon gave me hope that I might help others again.
The older doctor with white hair came back, and I shook his hand. “I’ll start working with you next week.”
His huge smile shone in clear relief. “I’m sure everyone will be grateful that you’re here now. We’re a small town, but our people need you.”
Good. It was done. I pressed my hand to my heart as the paperwork would take time. “We’ll work together next month, so you can introduce me.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
I headed to the door. Honestly my shoulders were a little lighter.
Being a doctor was all I ever saw myself as for years.
Since leaving Paris… I’d been an idiot. The only good thing that happened to me was Kara, and I let her slip away.
I walked slowly through the vineyards I used to race through as a boy.