37. Things I Hate About Paris

THIRTY-SEVEN

#10 Marie lives hear but i need her

"It's fine, really. I'm barely here, and it's not like we didn't share a room for most of our lives anyway. I'm used to it."

I blinked my eyes open into the distinct Parisian light. They said the light here was pink, but I wasn't sure I saw a difference. From Marie's apartment, a tiny rooftop studio that was probably a maid's quarters when the building was originally constructed, it looked pretty damn gray to me. Just like my mood for the last two weeks.

My sister's muted voice continued to float in from her balcony, where she was in deep conversation with someone else. Someone I also knew. Sort of.

"It's just weird, you know? She usually bounces back from things like a basketball. When Tommy Lopez dumped her in the tenth grade, she cried for an hour and then found a new boyfriend on the walk home. But she's been in Paris, of all places, for two months, and all she's basically done is sleep, eat, and watch Netflix."

"Ces is worried about her too," came a deeper British voice. "She wouldn't stop pacing the house until I agreed to come and check on her. Again."

I frowned. Xavier was back?

Two months ago, Xavier Parker had been my unsuspecting savior. He'd whisked me out of the hospital benefit so quickly I didn't even remember the steps from the museum to his private car to the apartment, where he'd helped me pack the necessities before bringing me straight to his private jet and taking me to Paris to see Marie as requested.

I'd barely noticed any of it.

I hadn't been able to do anything but wilt once I'd arrived. Had left my phone, battery dead, in my backpack while I spent my days sleeping, allowing Marie to let our family know I was alive. Everyone else could fuck off. I was too busy wallowing in the look on Nathan's face when he saw that video.

Shame, pity, disgust. They were all there. The expressions I'd come to expect from everyone else in my life. But never him.

"Do you think she'd be better off in London?" Xavier was wondering. "Or maybe she should go to Boston or back to New York. Face the music, as they say."

"Matthew's already got his hands full with the new baby, and I doubt London would be any better than here. Plus, with Frankie about to pop any day, you guys deserve some time on your own," Marie replied. "New York isn't any better. Kate's in LA on business, and Lea's just done. She's still mad Joni got wrapped up with those gangsters."

"Yeah. That might not have been Joni's fault, really," Xavier said. "What about Rome, with Sarah?"

"No. Nonna doesn't need to get wrapped up in all of this. The only traveling she'll want to do is to visit her great-grandbabies. Don't worry her with Joni's drama."

"Well, I still think Lea's being a bit unreasonable."

"She's right about one thing. Joni shouldn't have been at that sketchy event to begin with. I still don't even know what to think about the video." There was a sigh.

Ah, yes. That. I still couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. My whole family knew about the recording that could not be named. The moment Marie had opened her door, at just past noon her time, I had burst into tears and told her the entire story. About Nathan. About Kyle. About Shawn. About the years of secrets I'd kept even from her.

My brother had been working with his police buddies in New York to track down the original and get it buried. I hadn't seen it uploaded to the internet, but it was only a matter of time. If Shawn knew people were looking for it, he'd also know he had a gold mine.

"Have you had any more luck finding it?" Marie asked. "Or the guy who filmed it?"

I chuffed. Apparently, big, mighty Xavier and his billions had been looped in on the search.

"That wanker's gone missing," Xavier said. "Last seen in Belmont around the Antonis, like your brother said, then disappeared in Newark. He knows we're looking for him."

"I still can't believe I never knew about him."

"Ces feels the same way," Xavier told her. "Says she should have known something was going on."

"Frankie left for school the next year," Marie countered. "Joni and I were still sharing a room until then. I should have known something was different. We were still kids."

I cringed at the pity in her voice. Out of all our siblings, Marie was the only one who had never felt sorry for me. Growing up, we'd always been such polar opposites that, as much as I hated to admit it, I'd always enjoyed goading her jealousy. I was the one who was popular, who was pretty, who the boys liked. She never even went to her senior prom. I went to five, starting in the eighth grade. She wasn't even kissed until she was twenty, whereas I'd claimed that honor at nine.

But what had served as badges of honor when I was a teenager now felt like big scarlet stamps that read one thing: Joni Zola. Big fat slut.

The tiny French doors opened with a creak on the other side of the privacy screen separating Marie's "bedroom" from the rest of the apartment. I rolled over into a pillow onto the side Marie had given me and stifled a groan.

"I know you're awake, you bum," she called. "I could see your shadow moving through the window, so stop eavesdropping and get up."

I shoved myself up from the bed with a groan. "Still such a snitch."

Xavier chuckled.

A few minutes later, I joined them in the kitchen, where Xavier was whipping us up some breakfast. I glanced at the clock on the wall. One thirty. Okay, maybe it was lunch.

"You look like you just got dragged through a swamp," Marie said as she took a sip of tea. "Think you might shower today?"

I shot her a dirty look. "You're such a brat, Mimi."

"Pretty sure that's what you've always been called. Glad to see a little spark, though."

She seemed to wait for my normal retort, but I had nothing else. Back home, I would have gone for the low-hanging fruit. Teased her about dressing like the Amish or keeping her virginity locked up tighter than a drum.

But all that was gone now. Marie might still have been waiting for the perfect man to deflower her, but the glasses-wearing nun had disappeared during her time in Paris, replaced by a chic, dark-haired nymph that more than resembled a young Audrey Hepburn now that she'd cut her hair last month. And I, usually called the "pretty one" of the family, had morphed back into the ugly duckling in my frumpy bun and faded sweatpants.

Marie sighed. "I'm going to run to the market for the salad stuff. Can you handle her?"

Xavier shot me a quick blue-eyed look, like I was some kind of flight risk. "I think so."

Please. Like I was going anywhere dressed like a homeless puppy.

Marie left, and I flopped at the kitchen table, surprised when Xavier immediately set a steaming cup of stovetop espresso and a biscuit in front of me. It was hard, sometimes, to remember that before he discovered he was a duke, he'd first been a chef and eventually a restaurant mogul.

Apparently, the man hadn't forgotten his way around a kitchen.

"Drink," he ordered. "And then we should talk."

I obeyed while he continued to work at the stove, cooking up something that looked like an omelet.

I honestly couldn't care less. Nothing tasted good anymore anyway.

"We don't know each other very well, do we?" Xavier wondered as he slid the omelet onto a plate and immediately started mixing another like a well-oiled machine.

I looked up from sipping my coffee as he slid the steaming eggs in front of me. "Don't know why we would. You spent maybe five minutes with my family before taking my sister to London with you. And that was after knocking her up and disappearing. But you did marry her in the end, I guess."

It was hard not to sound bitter. In general, I was happy for Frankie. These days, she was living a fairy tale that most people would kill for. Rich husband, baby on the way. She was even planning to go back to school in the fall to study all those stuffy books she loved so much.

She had a purpose. She had everything.

And I had absolutely nothing.

"Yeah, well. That's probably my fault," Xavier said while getting to work on the next omelet. "I've never been good with families."

I crinkled my brow. "How does that work?"

He sighed. "What's Ces told you about my life? How I grew up?"

"That you lived in South London, became a big-shot chef, and then found out you were going to become a duke later." I gave him a pointed look before biting into my biscuit. "And didn't tell her that last part until it was way too late."

The big man had the decency to look ashamed. "Yeah, well. That's more because I didn't quite believe it myself. Not for a long time." He sighed. "I was raised in a two-bedroom flat by a single mum. She died when I was sixteen. After that, my dad shoved me into boarding school just to be done with me. I might have been a duke's son, but everyone said I was a bastard until I was nineteen." He searched my face for recognition. "Bastards can't inherit titles in England. They found my parents' marriage certificate, which made me legitimate, but I could never shake that feeling of being worthless. Just like everyone said."

I scowled at my plate. "If this is a pep talk, it's a terrible one."

Xavier flipped the eggs onto another plate, presumably for Marie, then came to sit next to me at the table. He was a big man. Taller even than Nathan, but not as broad. All sharp angles in his cheekbones and steely blue eyes lacking the warmth and solidness in his body that Nathan had.

God, I missed Nathan. More than once over the past two months, I'd rolled over half asleep to snuggle him, only to find my sister's bony body shoving me away. It made me want to cry every time.

"It wasn't until I met your sister that things really changed for me. For the first time, I found someone who saw me for who I really was. More than a label or a title."

I peered up at him. "And your point is?"

"This bloke of yours. He's been calling."

I perked. "He has?"

Xavier nodded. "Leaves messages with my assistant almost every day. I'm not supposed to say anything, but I wondered…everyone's got their boxes, see? The ones we can't seem to escape until someone else sees us differently. I wondered if maybe he did that for you. Like Francesca does for me."

I looked at him for a long time.

"It wouldn't matter if he did," I said. "I crossed a line. There's no coming back from that now."

"You sure about that?"

I nodded. "If there's one thing this whole disaster has taught me, it's that it's time to grow up. Learn to be realistic and stop wanting to be things I'll just never be."

Xavier worried his jaw a moment, then nodded. "Well, in that case, I think Marie's wrong about you staying here with her. You need to move around, do something. Pull yourself out of your misery."

"Gee, thanks," I spat. "I'll be sure to get on that."

But Xavier wasn't put off by my sour attitude. "I've got six restaurants in London alone and an extra bedroom in our flat. I can get you work, and on your days off, you can help Ces with the babes. You got a better plan?"

I stared at my still-full plate. It was a good offer for someone like me. Someone with no outlook to speak of. No future.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to say yes. Just like I couldn't bring myself to do anything else these days.

"I—I'll have to think about it," I said finally.

Xavier peered at me a bit more, but didn't seem interested in pushing.

"All right," he replied, getting back up to finish lunch. "I'm staying at the George V until Thursday. Let me know by then, and you can fly to London with me." He looked over his shoulder. "But the next time your fella calls, you want me to take it?"

I had to think about that too.

Before I could answer, there was a knock at the door.

Xavier turned. "Marie must have forgotten her key."

But it wasn't Marie. It was someone else entirely.

"Joni?" The familiar voice that had been weaving through my dreams for the last two months sounded deep and tired through the old wood door. "Joni, it's Nathan. Please let me in."