Page 10 of City of Love
The girl eyes me suspiciously, and for the first time since meeting her I feel a sarcastic grin twitching at the corners of my mouth.
“Believe me, I don’t trust you either,” I say.
“Well, I don’t know you,” she says defensively.
“Do you want to go back out there?” I say, gesturing to the door. “Be my guest.”
The girl gives a little snort, and for just a second, a spark of amusement flashes in her eyes.
“What?” I say, feeling defensive.
“You said ‘be my guest,’” she says. “Like inBeauty and the Beast.”
I just stare at her.
“It takes place in France?” she says, looking expectant. “And we’re in France? And there are some similarities between the plot of that movie and our current—“ But she breaks off, shaking her head. “Oh, never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“Phone,” I say once more, hoping she doesn’t start rambling again. Even if it was sort of amusing.
The spark of humor in her eyes has sadly died, and now, looking wary, she appears to weigh her options before handing over her phone.
“Charger?” I say.
She digs in her purse for a minute and pulls out a cord, but she says, “I don’t have an adaptor on me.”
“I have one,” I say absently, and in return for the phone and cord I pass her the towel. “Bathroom is right here.” I point at the door on our left, and then I pause, remembering what she said earlier. “I don’t have any feminine products, though. Sorry.”
She shrugs, not meeting my eye. “I have some in my purse. It’s just the cramps.”
I pause. “I have ibuprofen.”
Her gaze shoots to mine, relief spreading across her face. “Do you?”
“Yes. How many do you want?”
“Three, if that’s all right?” she says, and I briefly wonder what spirit of generosity has overtaken me, because normally in a situation like this I would have just asked her to move somewhere else. Instead, I nod.
“I’ll grab it. Go dry off if you want. And hurry, please; I have guests coming in a bit.” I fight a sardonic smile at that; the guys would get a kick out of being referred to as guests.
The girl’s eyes widen, and she says, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m completely imposing. I’m reallysosorry.” I watch as her lip trembles, and I step forward hesitantly, giving her shoulder an awkward pat.I don’t spend much time comforting crying women; am I doing this right?
Probably not. Because before I know what’s happening, she turns into my touch, burying her head into my chest and sobbing again.
Chapter 5
Lydia
Up until this point in my life, I’ve never completely comprehended the idea of rock bottom. People talk about it, obviously, but I’ve never really understood the spirit of it, you know?
But I get it now. Because here I am, sobbing into the chest of a total stranger—who, judging by the awkward way he’s just standing there, does not at all appreciate this situation.
I’m just about to step away from him—a most-likely-futile attempt to preserve what little of my dignity is left—when he puts his arms around me and sighs.
He strokes my hair, the motion surprisingly gentle, and says gruffly, “You’re okay,chérie. You’re okay.”
“I don’t feel okay,” I manage to get out. He’s not pushing me away, so I let myself stay where I am.
“Compris,” he says with another sigh. “But you’ll be okay. We’ll get you on your way. Get dried off, all right? Then we’ll talk.”
