Shame makes my throat tight. “I really am sorry.”
“I know you’re getting to the age where boys will chase you—”
“This was definitely a one-time thing. Boys are always into London anyway.”
“Your sister’s outgoing, and boys like that. She flatters them. The unfortunate thing is that attracts a bunch of weak assholes who want her to make them feel good.”
“So I make them feel bad?”
“You’re yourself. And boys your age aren’t usually able to appreciate that.”
My cheeks flush. I remember the brightness of Elijah’s eyes as he told me I was a goddamn delight. He appreciated me. And then later, in the alley, he appreciated every part of me.
“Do I even want to know how old this guy is?”
“Not that old,” I say defensively. “Not like thirty or something.”
Dad shakes his head. “I’m grateful you’re safe, even if I did lose a few years of my life waiting up for you. Please ask me next time you want to go out. I can’t promise I’ll say yes, but I can promise that I’ll consult with your mother before I say no.”
I go over to kiss his cheek, and he pulls me in for a hug. His voice is low in my ear. “Don’t you ever let a boy hurt you, Holly bear. You wait for the one who understands you. He’s out there.”
As I pull back, he puts out his hand.
“However,” he says, “there are consequences.”
London has had to turn in her phone lots of times. This is the first time I have to dig into my pocket and pull out my iPhone. It occurs to me as I place it in his palm that the worst part isn’t not being able to text friends. The worst part is knowing that he doesn’t trust me anymore.
When I go upstairs I shower and drag myself into bed.
It was my first date with a boy, but somehow I feel more alone than ever.
CHAPTER SIX
The next day I wake up to my mother’s voice calling up the stairs.
Our private tour departs at seven a.m. We’re going to see the Reims Cathedral and taste genuine champagne, but I’m still dreaming about eclairs and green eyes as I drag myself to the shower. I’m back in my ordinary, boring clothes with my backpack slung over my shoulder.
We climb into the black SUV with a personal driver and tour guide sitting up front.
The guide with a strong French accent tells us about the cathedral where all but two of the French kings were crowned. “But first we will visit Veuve Clicquot for a personal tour of the unique chalkstone cellars.” When my dad’s not looking, he gives my sister a wink. “We’ll learn about the young woman Madame Barbe Clicquot Ponsardin, who built a champagne empire.”
Her eyes go wide. “A champagne empire.”
He nods, looking very knowledgeable. And interested. He’s actually young enough. Eighteen? Nineteen? Maybe the same age as Elijah, but there’s something more boyish about him. I suspect he and my sister will become accidentally separated from the group at some point.
There’s still another hour to go on our drive, so we settle into a companionable silence, each of them on their phones. Dad and Mom cuddle on one of the seats while my sister and I lounge with our legs tangled up on the other side. We may be opposites in every way, but we’re still best friends. I’m the only one phone-less, so I stare out the window.
My mother sits up a little straighter across from me. “Honey, did you see this?”
Dad glances over, still stroking her hair. “What’s that?”
“The Louvre. Someone stole something.”
My sister shoots up. “While we were there?”
Mom scans her phone. “It says they aren’t sure of the time, only that it happened yesterday while the museum was open. So yes, it might have been while we were there.”
“Cool,” London says.
“It’s all very Indiana Jones,” Mom says. “Apparently the real thing was switched out with a fake, and they didn’t discover it until doing rounds the next morning.”
Wow. I wonder if the security guards got in trouble. Surely Elijah wouldn’t get fired because he was on duty? It’s not like he can watch every square inch of the museum.
Now I feel guilty for taking a break with him.
Something flutters in my stomach. Unease. Suspicion. No, it’s got to be my overactive imagination. Elijah’s job is to protect the art in the museum, not steal it.
My family is still discussing the theft, but I steal my sister’s phone and look up an article.
The only item missing is the Regent Diamond, a 140-carat diamond owned by the French state. Its worth is estimated at €48,000,000, though it’s hard to say what it could be worth on the black market. Authorities suspect the theft was funded by a collector, which will make it harder to trace, as there will be no sale.
