It’s a hopeless thought, dark, depressing, and perfectly encompassing my sadness over Mrs. Stalinski’s death.
All I know is I need to see him. One more time. His donation in my name plays like a reel inside my head, providing me with the strength to find him, but not enough to ask him to stay. Not if he doesn’t want to.
“Hey! Noa!”
I whirl at the sound of my name, surprised to see Saint running toward me with my coat on his arm.
Shivering, I halt in the middle of the sidewalk.
“I saw you run out of there,” he says, his breaths clouding the air between us. “Thought you might need this.”
“T-Thank you.” I turn, allowing him to settle the coat on my shoulders.
In time to see Stone round the corner and watch Saint smooth my jacket by my shoulders.
His expression hardens, his black woolen coat doing nothing to hide the bunching of his muscles underneath. He prowls closer.
“The fuck are you doing touching her?” he snaps at Saint.
Saint stays behind me, but I don’t have to turn to predict his casual enjoyment as he watches Stone approach.
“Getting the lady her coat,” Saint responds, “since it seems she was left to chase you down without one.”
Stone’s lip curls.
I raise my hand to Stone, quelling any insult or, let’s be honest, fighting words. If it were any other day, I’d push at Stone and tell him to choke on his jealous streak because it is so damned unnecessary when he’s the only man I see.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I say to Stone. “I was looking for you. Worried about you.”
Stone looks between me and Saint, suspicion lining his grief-stricken features.
“And, I assume, saying goodbye,” Saint says.
I wheel around to pin him with a look. “Thanks for the coat. You can go now.”
Saint rocks back on his heels, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. He’s a typical, arrogant, fearless chef, but even he has his limits and can resist baiting a man who just lost his mother.
I brace myself for the opposite.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Saint says to Stone.
“Thank you,” Stone clips out.
My shoulders relax.
“I didn’t come here to start anything,” Saint continues, “I was looking for Noa since you aren’t returning any of my calls.Understandable, of course,” he adds when I open my mouth to argue, and Stone puts a possessive hand on my arm. “I didn’t know your mother, though she sounds like an outstanding woman, so I’ll respectfully take my leave.”
Stone relaxes his stance beside me. I finally allow myself to exhale.
“I just wanted to confirm you’ll be coming with me to Paris,” Saint says. “Our flight leaves in twenty-four hours.”
Oh shit.
Stone’s grip tightens like a vise. “What is he talking about?”
“Oh. Whoops.” Saint widens his eyes theatrically. “I’ll let you two figure it out.”
I could kill him. I really could if too much death didn’t already surround me. I settle for glaring daggers into his back as he walks away, mentally cataloging all the ways I’ll threaten him later.
