“For how long?”
“The first time I saw him after that,” she said, “was last month at our father’s funeral.”
“Whoa,” Nate said. “That’s a long time.”
“The only reason I knew he wasn’t dead was because he still keeps in contact with Mom. She asked me once if he’d ever been in touch with me. I lied and told her he had. Mom’s always had this kind of defeated sense to her. I guess I just didn’t want to add to it.”
“Look, you don’t need to—”
“I thought I’d moved past him, forgotten about him. But then the funeral, and now here.” Her eyes started to glisten. “He never called me. He never wrote. I don’t understand why.”
Tears began to slide down her cheeks, then she took a big gulp of air and could no longer keep herself from sobbing.
Without even thinking, Nate reached out and pulled her into his arms, letting her bury her face in his shoulder. He rubbed her back, and every once in a while whispered, “It’s okay” or “Just let it out.”
Then, when her crying subsided, she lay against him, her breaths fast at first, but gradually slowing down. After a while he thought she might have fallen asleep, but then she turned in his arms, and looked at him for a moment before pushing herself back up.
“More than you bargained for this evening, huh?” she asked as she wiped the last of her tears from her eyes.
He liked that she didn’t apologize. “You never know which way life is going to come at you. I find it better to let things happen than expect anything in particular.” He gave her a smile. “At the risk of setting you off again, I’m wondering if you ever asked him what was up.”
She shrugged. “Once.”
“And what did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“You mean he gave you the runaround?”
“No. I mean he said nothing. It was on the phone. He’d called to talk to Mom, but I happened to be home and had answered. So I decided I’d just ask him why he left. He was silent for a long time, and then he said, ‘Can I talk to Mom, please.’ That was it.”
“Maybe he had a good reason.”
“Yeah, well, if he did, I don’t care anymore.” She drained the rest of her wine, then picked up the bottle. “You want some more?” She looked at his glass. It was almost full. “I guess not, huh?”
“I’m fine.”
She started to tip the bottle over her own glass, but stopped before any liquid spilled out.
“Maybe it would be better if we just call it a night,” she said. “I’ve got class in the morning, and I’m sure you must be tired.”
“I’m doing okay,” Nate said. “But it’s up to you.”
She smiled, then started to stand, the bottle of wine still in her hand. When she straightened her knees, she swayed.
Nate jumped up and put out a hand to steady her.
“Thanks,” she said. “I think I just proved another glass would have been a bad idea.”
“Why don’t you give that to me?”
He took the bottle from her, then picked up the two glasses and carried them all into the kitchen. When he returned, Liz had moved the sheet, blanket, and pillow she’d set on the floor that afternoon onto the couch, and looked like she was about to make his bed.
“I can do that,” Nate said, rushing over.
She gave him a smirk. “I’m not completely helpless.”
She tucked the sheet around the cushions, put the pillow at one end, then spread the blanket out.
“Thanks,” he said.
“My pleasure.”
“What time’s your class in the morning?”
“Not until ten, thank God.”
“Mind if I come with you? Not to class, of course. But I’ve always wanted to see the Sorbonne.”
“Sure.” She leaned over and gave him a hug. “Thanks for being a good guy, Andrew.”
“Eh … thanks? I guess.”
She laughed into his chest, then, as she pulled away, he felt her hesitate, her cheek only an inch away from his. He could sense tension building between them, a tension he unexpectedly welcomed.
She’s Quinn’s sister, a voice in his head said.
He closed his eyes and tried to regain control. Just as he was about to push her away, she pulled back.
“If we leave by nine-fifteen, we can pick up something to eat on the way,” she said.
“That sounds good.”
She walked over to the hallway, then looked back. “I’m glad you decided to stay.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you asked.”
She disappeared into her bedroom, but he continued to stare at the spot where she’d been. When he finally looked away, he pulled out his phone. As much as he hated thinking about work at the moment, there was one last text he had to send. He pulled up Julien’s number, then typed:
Leaving 9:15 a.m. L has class at 10,
have talked her into letting me come along.
Will check in when I get up.
After hitting Send, he put his phone in his bag. Hopefully, Julien would get the hint and not reply. Right now all Nate wanted to do was pretend he was Andrew Cain, on vacation in Europe, and staying for a few days with an intriguing American girl in Paris.
And for a few seconds, right before he fell asleep, he actually believed it.
Chapter 25
Quinn rose early the next morning. He took a quick shower, got dressed, then sat on the edge of the bed and checked his email.
One was from his mother, sent to a dummy address that forwarded the message through a series of sites before it showed up in Quinn’s inbox.
Jake,
Just wanted to let you know your friend Steven is all settled in. He pretty much stays out of the way, but has been kind enough to ride into town with me when I have to go. Claire, unfortunately, was only able to stay a few hours. But while she was here she not only helped me sort through some of my mail, she also made a wonderful spaghetti dinner. I like her a lot, Jake.
Quinn smiled. He’d have to show Orlando that one.
I know you’re busy, but I do hope you come again soon. This is your home, no matter how long you’ve been away.
I love you,
Mom
Quinn read the letter twice. He could feel the guilt of having stayed away so long pressing in on him again. The other important email was from Orlando. He checked the time/date stamp. It had been sent just before her text from the night before.
Hi Jakey,Your mom’s all set. I’m on a flight from Chicago to New York, and then New York to London. Should be landing at Heathrow around 9 a.m. Coming in on Kuwaiti Air. Let me know what you want me to do once I get in. I’ve found a flat in Soho that I’ve sublet for two weeks. My sense is we won’t even need a week, but I didn’t want to have any problems.
Got a potential hit on that photo. Russian. Former KGB. Name: Nikolai Palavin. The information I found lists him as presumed dead. Maybe it’s him, maybe not. Still have no idea why his picture would have been in the folder.
I’ll call you once I land.Love,
O
It was apparent Orlando had been talking a little too much about him with his mother. Jakey was a name he hadn’t been called since he’d left home, and he’d had no intention of ever being called by it again.
At the moment, though, what troubled him more was the ID of the man in the photo. Russian, like the woman who’d been showing up everywhere Quinn had been working. Maybe there was no connection, but he would be a fool to ignore the possibility.
He turned off his computer and stuck it in his bag. Since he’d be staying with Orlando that evening, he would take everything with him. But he wasn’t going to check out. London was a big city, and it was always good to have an alternate safe haven.