Amanda's Guide to Love (30 page)

She took the pill, wrote down her
wish list for Patricia Bernier before leaving home, and rehearsed different
scenarios in her head while serving breakfast and lunch at the bistro. At a
quarter to four, she changed into an impeccably cut pencil skirt and silk
blouse, donned her prettiest kitten heels, and walked the few blocks to the ENS
building.

The weirdness of entering through
the same turnstile she’d passed on her way out after her ejection in May was
overwhelming. But it was offset by the gratification of knowing why and how she
was coming back.

Karine met her in the lobby, God
bless her soul. This meant Amanda was spared the second lonely walk down the
hallway under the curious gazes of colleagues.

Ex-colleagues.

Soon-to-be-colleagues again.

Oh merde
,
whatever
.

The meeting with Patricia lasted
over two hours, transforming from a job interview into a brainstorming session.
They sat side by side on the little couch in Patricia’s office and jotted down
ideas for the short- and midterm strategies that could get ENS out if its
current predicament.

As for Amanda’s terms, Patricia
said yes to all her wishes with the exception of the corner office—the last
item on her list.

When she reached it, the older
woman pushed her glasses up and smirked. “Who do you suggest I relocate to free
up a corner office for you?”

“Isn’t there an empty one somewhere?”

Patricia shook her head. “But if
things improve with your help, I’ll make sure we find one a year from now.”

“It’s a deal.” Amanda extended her
hand.

Patricia shook it with
a genuine smile.

On her way home, Amanda called Kes,
but her call went straight to his voice mail. She left a message telling him
she had some exciting news to share, and then she called Jeanne.

“I’m so happy for you, honey,”
Jeanne said. “I always knew they’d come begging for you to return.”

“It’s only because Julien got himself
fired.” Amanda hesitated. “Jeanne, I feel bad about quitting so abruptly on
you. If you need me to work at the bistro next week and the week after, just
say the word. ENS already knows I may not be able to start before early
September.”

“Relax,” Jeanne said. “You can
start at ENS next Monday. One of our old waiters is back in town for a few
months and looking for a job.”

Amanda released the breath she was
holding. “Really?”

“Goth’s honor. Besides, I’m closing
next week so Mat and I can go on our honeymoon and give everyone a break.”

“Where are you guys going?”

“The Hague.”

“How exci—” Amanda began before her
brain registered the destination.

The Hague?

“Just kidding.” Jeanne laughed.
“We’re going to Venice.”

“Oh good.”

“But you must promise me
something.” Jeanne’s tone grew serious. “You’ll keep on helping us with the
books until Manon finishes her accounting course.”

“It’s the least I can do for you,
girlfriend,” Amanda said. “Besides, ENS is just around the corner, so I’ll be
coming to La Bohème for lunch several times a week, just like before.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Jeanne said.
“And I hope you’ll maintain your appreciation of the value of tipping once
you’re back on the other side.”

Amanda chuckled. “You
can count on that!”

On the third day without news from
Kes, Amanda began to worry in earnest. By the fifth day, she was sick to her
stomach with anxiety. Disappearing like this was not like him. What if he’d had
an accident? What if he’d gotten into serious trouble with someone from the
casino? Was there trouble with his clan?

Speaking of which, his family might
still be parked in the dedicated area near Lyon.

On Sunday morning, Amanda googled the
place and took the ten o’clock train to Lyon. A cab brought her to the campsite
just as Kes’s folks were sitting down to lunch outdoors. She asked the driver
to wait for her and climbed out of the car.

As she approached the long table,
she recognized his parents, siblings, his cousin Marco, and even his grandma.
But Kes wasn’t with them.

“Hi,” she said, struggling not to
show how mortified she was.

They greeted her politely but
didn’t invite her to sit down.

“I . . . I was
looking for Kes.”

Marco put his fork and knife down.
“He’s gone.”

Gone as in
dead
?

The color drained from Amanda’s
face.

Marco stood up and nudged her away
from the rest of the family. “Walk with me.”

She followed him to the shady spot
behind the caravan. Her heart raced and her palms were moist.

“Kes is in Las Vegas,” Marco said.
“He was here last weekend and left on Monday.”

Relief that Kes was alive and
distress over his inexplicable behavior mixed in Amanda’s head to form a thick,
paralyzing fog.

Marco studied her face. “Didn’t he
tell you? It had been the plan all along.”

She found herself unable to speak.

He grinned. “The only change to the
plan was that his fiancée, Clara, followed him three days later.”

What?
“Kes doesn’t have a fiancée.”

“He does now.” Marco pulled out his
phone. “Here, look.”

The photo showed a beautiful,
fresh-faced brunette with bright-green eyes standing next to Kes. It was taken
not far from where they stood now.

“They’ll stay in Vegas a few
months, and when they’re back, we’ll do a proper wedding.” Marco sneered. “I
don’t suppose you want an invitation.”

Amanda spun around and almost ran
to the cab.

The trip back to Paris was steeped
in heartache and bitterness. She’d been right all along that it would never
work between two people from such different backgrounds. But Kes kept arguing
it could, if only she would give it a chance.

Give
him
a chance.

He’d done everything to get her to
believe it, too. Just think of all the effort, all the creative energy he’d put
into his
Guide to Love
! And then, the moment her shell began to crack,
he got cold feet . . .

Oh, the brutal, ironic unfairness
of it. Could someone please tell her why this man—out of the many others she’d
met since her breakup with Rob—was the one who made her tick? Why was it he who
gave her a taste of the uniquely satisfying joy of reciprocal desire?

Amanda stared at the yellowing
landscape outside the train window. Her summer had been an enchanted adventure
in Kes-land where she’d tumbled through a portal in Deauville’s Royal Barrière
Casino. Over the last three months, she’d waitressed, talked to a spider, taken
care of a plant, mended things with Vivienne, and dated a Gitan gambler. All of
it had been fascinating . . . and completely out of character.

But now the summer was
over, and she was back in the real world.

* * *

October came with its full palette
of back-to-back autumn rains that lasted for days on end. A drizzle intensified
into a downpour, which then slowed into a shower before thinning back into a
drizzle.
The orchid in
Amanda’s living room thrived, but Christophe had disappeared at the end of
September, and she missed him.

Spring seemed centuries away.

Even working fourteen-hour days
couldn’t drive Amanda into a fatigue where nothing really mattered. When she
wasn’t working, she spent time at La Bohème or with Vivienne, who was
trying—with varying degrees of success—to be a more indulgent mother. Vivienne
never asked her about Kes.

But Jeanne did.

Just like tonight, when Amanda
dropped by to look at Manon’s profit and loss statement.

“She nailed it this week.” Amanda
patted Jeanne’s back. “Tell her she gets an A-plus for this one. When your
accountant sees it at the end of the month, he’ll be impressed.”

Jeanne handed Amanda her favorite cocktail.
“On the house. How’s work?”

“Crazy, but exciting.” Amanda took
a sip. “You know me—I thrive on challenges.”

“You certainly do.” Jeanne smiled. “What
about your personal challenge? Any news from Kes?”

“Will you stop with that already?
You keep asking, and I keep telling you it’s over. He doesn’t need to call or
write to tell me what I already know.”

Jeanne shook her head. “I don’t
know him well, but I’m usually right about people. My gut feeling about Kes has
always been good. He’s just not the kind of guy to disappear on a girl like
that.”

Amanda shrugged.

“Come on, humor me,” Jeanne said.
“Let’s go over your last days with him. Something must have happened during
that time. Something that would explain his behavior.”

“Nothing happened. He was his usual
self on Wednesday, and on Thursday morning when he left for Lyon, and even when
he texted me from there. Several times.”

“And then?” Jeanne prompted.

Amanda gulped some wine. “He came
over at midnight, and he was different. If something happened, it must have
happened on Thursday evening during the dinner with his family.”

Jeanne narrowed her eyes. “What
were
you
doing on Thursday evening?

“Multitasking.” Amanda smirked. “I
talked to Karine, who told me about Julien’s marching orders, I read an e-mail
from Patricia asking me to return to ENS, and I told Patrick I wouldn’t go out
with him.”

“Rob’s partner Patrick?”

“The very same.”

“Did you tell him that over the
phone?”

“Yes.” Amanda frowned. “Well,
before I called him to say that, we’d had an early dinner on the left bank.”

Jeanne shifted in her seat and
smoothed her hair back. “Did you do anything during that dinner that could be . . .
misinterpreted?”

“By whom?”

“An onlooker.”

Amanda felt her pulse quicken.
“What are you saying, Jeanne? Do you think someone who knows both Kes and me
happened to take an early dinner in the same restaurant on a Thursday night?
What are the odds?”

“Tiny. But what if it wasn’t
accidental? You told me his family hadn’t exactly welcomed you with open arms. One
of his numerous relations may have been keeping tabs on you.”

Amanda rubbed her forehead. “It’s
still extremely unlikely.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Did
either of you do anything that could be misinterpreted?”

“Well, Patrick took my hand at some
point, but then I pulled it away.”

“What if someone saw it?”

Amanda concentrated to recall the
details of that dinner. There had definitely been other customers in the dining
room. Patrick had held her hand for a long moment . . . while
she promised him she’d consider his proposition. What if someone had not only
seen them but also heard her promise?

Jeanne grabbed Amanda’s glass and
took a hearty swig. “Just think about it for a second. My hypothesis isn’t as
farfetched as it sounds.”

Think rationally, Amanda.

If she put her hurt and
disappointment aside, she’d agree with Jeanne. Kes wasn’t a runner. He was
honest and kind. In the three-and-a-half months she’d known him, he’d never
behaved like a coward.

If after everything he’d done
throughout the summer to win her heart, he was swayed in the space of one
evening by a pair of green eyes, he would’ve told her. He would’ve said he was
finished teaching her how to love again because he’d fallen for a woman who
didn’t need to be taught.

But he hadn’t said anything of the
kind. Instead . . .

Oh God.

Amanda clapped her hand to her
mouth remembering the things he’d said during their “kinky” sex.

You’re killing me.

What do you want from me, Amanda?

He’d also inquired about her day,
and she’d blabbered about her ENS comeback, neglecting to mention Patrick. When
he’d insisted on asking if she had anything to tell him, her reply had been
dismissive and downright mean.

“What have I done?” she murmured,
her expression terrified.

Jeanne gave her hand a
squeeze. “You may have accidentally broken his heart. And then he accidentally
broke yours.”

* * *

Sleep turned out to be an elusive
beast that night.

Amid her tossing, turning, and
replaying various scenes from her enchanted summer, Amanda recalled one of
Vivienne’s killjoy remarks. It had been delivered four years ago, when Amanda’s
friendship with Rob grew into something more.

“Enjoy your moment, my dear,”
Vivienne had said, “but remember this: If a woman wants a man badly enough, she
can usually get him to sleep with her. Whether she can get him to love her is a
completely different story.”