Clara embraced me before skipping off with her beloved.
The thread of happiness bubbling inside was tempered by my rising embarrassment from the impromptu fortune-telling. I’d been so focused on the couple that I missed Marc’s reaction.
An acute piercing pain bore into my right temple. I stumbled back. Gripping the side of my head, I closed my eyes and sucked in my breath, trying to push down a rising nausea.
Marc reached out and helped steady me. “Are you all right?”
“I need to stay still for a bit,” I whispered. “Migraine.”
The pounding headache ebbed into a manageable dull throb. Marc offered me one of the bottles of water in his bag. I unscrewed the cap and took a healthy swig.
“Better?”
“I think I know how Zeus felt when Athena was in his head,” I replied with a wobbly smirk.
Marc laughed.
“I’ll be okay. Migraines have a trigger and I know I tripped mine.” I twisted the cap of the water bottle shut and handed it to him.
“My cousin gets really bad ones. His are caused by barometric pressure. There isn’t much he can do prevention-wise.” He took the bottle and tucked it back into his bag. “Is there anything I can do to help? Are you on any meds that you need to take?”
“Nothing I can do but avoid the trigger. I guess the situation is similar to your cousin’s.” I took his hand in mine. “I’m going to be okay.”
He squeezed my hand before leaning in to ask, “What happened before with the Brits? How did you do that?”
The question I’d been asking myself all my life without an answer. In the past, whenever pressed, I’d give a joke response and change the subject. Now, though, I felt a genuine friendship with Marc, which demanded honesty.
“It’s sort of like intuition dialed way up.”
“You remind me of one of my aunties, Tita MaryJo,” he said. “She knows everything. She has great detective skills.”
“That’s a polite way of saying she’s nosy. Are you saying that I am?”
Marc blushed and then coughed. “I said that wrong. I guess what I’m saying is that intuition is based on observation and empathy. You could have overheard or seen something.” He covered his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t believe I compared you to my aunt. That’s not what I was aiming for.”
His embarrassment was adorable. Marc had nosy aunts like I did. “All I heard is that you called me a great detective.”
“Thank you,” he sighed.
We entered the Hall of Mirrors. The corridor seemed to stretch to infinity. Mirrors flanked one side while tall windows faced the other, strengthening the illusion that the large corridor-like chamber was outside. Cloudy skies and the steady rain darkened the atmosphere. The forest of crystal chandeliers overhead, and those near the windows, reflected against the polished floors, creating a sensation of walking through an endless, sparkling sky. A symphony of soft thunder and rhythmic raindrops echoed from outside.
Very romantic.
Marc craned his neck and admired the murals on the ceiling. “Want to stay a little longer? The last time I was here, it was always onto the next spot.”
“Is this your favorite room in Versailles?” I asked.
“It is. You haven’t seen the rest of the palace though. I feel selfish asking you to stay.”
Our reflection glowed in one of the many large mirrors on the wall. I liked what I saw.
“Yes, this is where I want to be right now.”
Marc approached a staff member near the entrance and returned to my side. “She said it was fine to leave the tour group. We can stay here for a bit and rejoin them later if we want.”
He took off his leather jacket and laid it out on the floor. “There’re no chairs around here so we’ll have to make do.”
I sat down on his jacket, cross-legged on the floor. “If they had chairs, no one would leave the room.”
He lowered himself onto the floor next to me. “I checked the forecast. There is no rain tomorrow for our trip to Monet’s garden in Giverny.”
“Tell me, why is this your favorite place?”
He rifled through his messenger bag for his sketchbook and ink pens. “Because this room, to me, encapsulates the ideal fairy-tale castle. Reminds me of the ballroom scene from Beauty and the Beast.”
“I see it.” I brought out my art supplies. “Is this one of the reasons why you wanted to go to Paris?”
“Yes. This was the best place for me and my career. Let’s just say that when I told my family I needed to come here, they weren’t surprised. That was two years ago, and I feel like I’m ready to move on. I’ve learned what I can in Paris. I might come back again in the future.”
More clues. I tallied up the ones I had, and I still didn’t have enough to make a good guess. “I don’t have a clear idea of what you do yet, but I’m narrowing it down.”
“Do you want a hint?” A playful smile teased his lips.
I laughed and shook my head. “That’s cheating.”
His nearness strengthened the scent of coffee, vanilla, and sugar. My pencil slipped from my fingers and rolled onto the floor. I leaned down and reached for it, only to have his hand meet mine. The warmth of his skin sent blood rushing to my neckline and up to my cheeks.
Marc’s fingers lingered over mine for two more heartbeats before he pulled away.
“Look.” He pointed to the windows.
The rain had stopped and the darkened sky was cleaved by the golden blades of the sun. Emerging columns of brilliant light bathed the Hall of Mirrors. Gilt and crystal blazed.
In the middle of it all was him.
“And this is why this place is magical.” Marc’s dark brown eyes met mine. I wasn’t certain if he referred to the room, or me.
“Did you plan this? Like you did with those delicious jams this morning?” I asked.
“If I had, I would have met you years ago.”
I bit my lip. It had only been two days, yet I was falling.
We spent the rest of the hour drawing in relative silence, the sounds of our pen and pencil scratching across the page, the absence of words replaced with the steady rhythm of our breathing and furtive glances.
As we continued our tour of Versailles, I took the moments we shared in the Hall of Mirrors and tucked them away, as if they were a precious family heirloom like my grandmother’s jade bangle.
The matchmaker said I had no red thread.