Page 43 of Host for the Holidays
Her gaze settles on me for the briefest of moments, but I might as well be a fixture of the apartment, because it skips right to Rémy. I mean, I can’treallyblame her. He’s by far the most interesting and attractive part of this room. Not even our delivery from IKEA will change that.
Her lips pull up into a smile thatsomehaters might describe as a little toocome, hither, but really it’s just beautiful. She greets him in French and goes in for a kiss—oh, nope, it’s just the cheek kisses.
And suddenly I realize that the way I did them with Rémy was flat-out wrong. They’re not actually kisses. It’s just a quick pressing of cheeks against each other. No mouth-to-cheek action involved.
I’m the facepalm emoji. I totally kissed Rémy’s cheeks when we first met. Classic American overenthusiasm. Stars and stripes flying high.
What happens next is a jumble of quick French that I can’t catch a single word of because they’re not telling each other their names or discussing where to find the library. Or maybe they are. My French isthatbad, but French isn’t the only language they’re speaking . . .
Élise has a hand on Rémy’s elbow. They’re both smiling. The distance between them is just a fraction closer than is standard. This is a language anyone can understand.
For some reason, I had almost forgotten Rémy was from an entirely different country and culture than me. It hits me now, though. He lives his life in French. Sure, he speaks English with his students at work, but that’s a deviation from the normal, an exception to the rule. I’m an even bigger deviation from the normal, and a temporary one. I’ll be leaving back to the States with Josh, and Rémy will go on living his life—with hisfriendÉlise. I’ll become a memory that’ll fade like a temporary tattoo.
The thought is strangely depressing to me.
They turn, and Rémy’s got his hand out, gesturing to me. “Madi, this is Élise Garnier.” He’s speaking in English again, but his accent is a little more pronounced than usual—the result of moving between languages quickly, I assume.
Élise meets my eyes, and this time, she’s sizing me up. It’s hard to tell what she thinks because all her expressions are tempered, muted, classy. She reminds me of an Audrey Hepburn picture. This is a woman who has never snorted in laughter.
“Hello, Madi,” she says with a strong French accent that only adds to her charm. She steps toward me, and I realize it’s time to kiss cheeks. I make surenotto smooch this time, glancing at Rémy while touching my cheek to Élise’s like I saw her do.
“It’s good to meet you,” I say, pulling back and hoping I didn’t just break a dozen French culture codes with my greeting. My phone buzzes, and I pull it out.
Josh:I’m here
“That’s him. I’ve gotta go.” I look at Rémy. “I’m really sorry I’m not going to be here for the delivery. I’ll help you tomorrow if you want to wait. Or even tonight, like I said.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You have more important things to think about right now.”
I twist my mouth to the side. It’s true. I’ve got a business lunch—it sounds so much cooler than it is when I call it that—and a very big night ahead of me. But weirdly, I still care about this IKEA stuff.
“I can help him,” Élise says as she steps back beside him. It’s a nice offer, so why does it feel like she’s sticking a flag in the ground and declaring her territory?
“Oh!” I try to sound totally cool about it, but I can’t help but glance at Rémy. All I see when I do that is how good the two of them look next to each other—and how close they are standing. “Yeah, sure. That’s really nice of you.” It shouldn’t bug me to think of her fixing up my servant quarters with the stuff Rémy and I chose for it.
Stop being weird, Madi. This isn’t about me.This is about helping Rémy and André, and Élise is André’s cousin. It makes perfect sense for her to pitch in.
My phone buzzes again.
Josh:You coming? I’m impatient to see you *wink emoji*
Me:Yep! On my way down.
My heart skips a beat or two. Who’s putting the cover on the duvet on my temporary bed should be the last thing on my mind right now.What if Josh really does propose tonight?
I slip my camera bag on, grab my coat, pick up the folder holding the prints from my portfolio, then head out. Once I shut the door behind me, I can’t help but shoot a text off to Siena before starting down the stairs.
Madi:I know you’re asleep, but I just had to tell you . . .
Madi:Today might be THE DAY.
Typing those words is the weirdest thing ever, and my eyes linger on my ring finger for a second before I slip my phone into my camera bag and head down the stairs.
TWENTY
MADI
Josh is waiting justoutside the door to the street, and he smiles when he catches sight of me. He’s a handsome guy, and he looks pretty slick today, with a slim-fit suit, no tie, and his hair combed to the side. He looks the way I’d expect him to look if he meant to do something . . . important.
