Page 54 of The Edge of Always

‘I really am sorry,’ he tells me. ‘I was young and stupid and fuck I know they’re not good excuses but it’s the truth.’

‘It’s okay, Emmett, it was a long time ago. Please stop saying sorry.’ I don’t think I can stand it.

I want to tell him that so much has happened since then – some things just as bad – no, worse – than him leaving me on that cliff’s edge. But I don’t want to go there, not on our perfect mini-break in Paris.

‘Here, let me pay, and then we can head off. We need to go to MAM remember?’

‘It’s our first stop.’

We’ve decided to go back to MAM to look at the exhibit properly.

‘Do you think Mari will tell me where the painting came from?’ I wonder out loud to Emmett.

He pauses for a second and then shrugs. ‘You could ask her. She might not even know though, if the seller used a broker.’

‘True.’ It’s probably hopeless.

I pay for our breakfast, assuming that it was a fraction of the cost of our meal last night. ‘Actually, maybe I should pay for lunch too.’

Emmett stands and fixes his sunglasses in place. He looks like he should be on a billboard some place.

When we emerge from a short subway ride, my hair is running static, and my pulse is erratic. The steps of MAM are right in front of us, and I’m doing my level best to forget about the fact that yesterday, a whole crowd of people tried to talk to me in there. I’ve been resisting offers of therapy for some time but do you know what, perhaps I could hypnotherapy that particular memory away.

‘Ready?’ Emmett asks. It’s quite possible that my newly formed trauma is written all over my face. Oh, and my hands are shaking. So that’s excellent.

I nod.

We take the wide white steps slowly. Emmett leans forward and says something in French to the woman with the pixie haircut behind the counter. He flashes her a smile, and she repays his efforts with a look that screams, ‘Impregnate me!’ and scuttles off.

‘She’s gone to check whether Mari, the curator, is in the office today.’

I make a hmph sound, attempting a sort of moral superiority. As if I too didn’t fall head over heels for Emmett’s smile that very first time. Well, not the first time, we were five and that would have been strange. But as soon as it was age-appropriate to be lusting after his canines, I was there.

‘What?’ he asks. But he’s smirking.

All around us, people pay and get tickets to the special exhibit on Earl in MAM; the museum is free otherwise. I still have my sunglasses in place. It’s hardly the disguise of the century but needs must.

Assured Emmett is unsettling. He doesn’t appear to need fixing anymore, that’s for sure. He’s all fixed and it’s like someone set off a myriad of tiny fireworks just under my skin. It’s reassuring, too. This is the man he was always meant to be.

It just leaves me feeling out of sorts.

Our little French pixie is back and my French might be crap by any standards but I get that saying ‘Désolée’ over and over and shaking her head isn’t good.

Emmett gestures to me and I reluctantly lift my sunglasses up. I do it by pressing on the bit behind my ear so it’s like they’re on a hinge.

I see Pixie’s eyes go impossibly wider, and she begins tapping on a computer, before writing something on a scrap of paper and handing it to Emmett. I swear, if it’s a phone number I’ll… I’ll do what exactly? Nothing, I’d do nothing. But I’d be fine with Emmett hooking up with the French pixie while I trudge around Paris in disguise and try not to die. That would be fine.

‘So, good news and bad news,’ Emmett cuts in as I’m mid-spiral. Wow, I can’t wait to get home. In Paris there’s just so much spiralling. It’s dizzying.

‘Hit me with the bad.’

‘Dark – I like it.’

I roll my eyes.

‘Chloe was just telling me that Mari isn’t here today.’

Okay. That isn’t even in the same ballpark as Emmett running off with Chloe to have wild, passionate sex by a set of open windows while tulle curtains flutter in an autumn breeze – and wow, that image came to me way too easily.