Page 107 of Necessary Cruelty

There are a few people drinking cappuccinos outside a French bakery on the corner, but aside from that we’re the only ones here. “All the shops are closed.”

“Not for me.”

With that cryptic remark, he grabs my arm and half-drags me down the street toward an upscale boutique a few doors down from where we parked. On the glass window, Le Clotherie is etched in white script with Hours by Appointment Only inscribed underneath.

I hesitate at the door, but Vin shoves it open as if he has every right to bust inside. When he turns and locks it behind us, I experience a trill of nervousness.

“For privacy,” he murmurs, catching the expression on my face. “Wouldn’t want someone to walk in off the street and ruin the Pretty Woman moment.”

Before I can think of a suitable response, he gently pushes me through a gossamer curtain and into the back of the space.

A chicly petite older woman with midnight skin and hair so aggressively white that it had to be a fashion choice not to use dye when it went gray comes out from behind a rack of clothes.

“Monsieur Cortland, mon petit crotte. I am having too much happiness when you call. It has been too long. I have not seen you since you were un enfant.” She comes forward with her arms wide and wraps her arms around Vin in a giant embrace that I am shocked to see him return. “I was so happy to get your call.”

This is the only time I’ve seen him accept non-sexual affection with an audience. I expect the sky to fall at any possible moment.

I wrack my brain for what little I remember from the French class I took sophomore year.

“Did she just call you a little shit?” I ask him sotto voce, when the woman steps back.

He grimaces. “Apparently it’s a term of endearment, so shut up.”

“And let me look at you.” The woman grabs my hands and spreads them wide. “You must be the special girl I have been told about. We must take very good care of you. I am Adelphine Turay, and this is my shop. Vin has known me for his whole life. His mother used to come here for her entire wardrobe. She was my favorite customer, only I had the privilege of dressing her.”

Vin’s mouth has thinned into an unhappy line when I risk a glance back at him. He doesn’t let anybody talk about his mother, as if he wants to forget she ever existed.

Adelphine doesn’t seem to notice his frown, or simply doesn’t care. “Sit here while I bring out the racks. What refreshment do you prefer: coffee, tea, lemon water?”

“Bourbon?” Vin mutters.

She waves her hand at him, but the smile on her face is indulgent. “Coffee for you, bad boy.”

I collapse into a fabric-covered chair, exhausted just from watching her twirl around the room. “Tea would be great. Thank you.”

“So polite, not like the other prissy misses I see all day.” She pats my hand before turning to Vin, her tone changing to one that is more motherly but still gently chiding. “Take care of this one so I am seeing her again.”

“That’s up to her, isn’t it?”

There’s something in his voice that makes me turn to look at him. But Vin picks up a fashion magazine and opens it up. “Casual female nudity. God, I love the French.”

“Those designs are Algerian, my heart.” Adelphine sweeps back in with our drinks before I can say something caustic back to him. She waves me toward a raised platform at the center of the room. “Undress.”

I look at her in pained shock, realizing there aren’t any dressing rooms back here. My gaze swings back to Vin, who has put down the magazine and regards me with eyes full of both challenge and anticipation.

“Go on,” Adelphine encourages as she drapes a measuring tape over her shoulder. “You Americans can be so prudish. You are married, non?”

I raise my eyebrows at Vin in obvious question. He had acted like our quickie ceremony in Sonoma was meant to be a secret.

“Where do you think I got your wedding dress?” Vin’s smug grin makes it clear that he expects me to embarrass myself by making some protest.

I remind myself that it isn’t as if he hasn’t seen all of me before.

A sudden surge of bravado moves through me. If he wants to play games, then I’m already dressed and out on the field.

Gripping the hem of my t-shirt, I pull it over my head, only faltering when it catches in my hair.

“Need any help?” Vin calls from across the room, laughter in his voice.

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