“Why?” Marc asked, looking honestly curious.
“Because if you can’t, you also can’t you call yourself an independent adult.”
“This is bad?” Marc asked.
He was blushing.
She glanced at the rest of them and noted he wasn’t the only one.
“Huh. Maybe it’s a cultural thing?”
“That may be correct,” Zar said as he finished cutting up the green onions and moved on to a bell pepper. “Many European families live together or on the same street.”
“Oh.”
“But I do agree that there are many life skills every adult should know how to accomplish. Managing your money and cooking are good examples.”
Marc said something in French that caused the others to laugh.
“Marc admits that his mother washes his clothes. He ruins them if he does it.”
“I do know how to make omelets,” Marc said.
She smiled at the younger man. “You get a pass on that one.”
“Merci,” he said.
After they ate, Zar was telling her about the construction of the tunnel they were going to be going through when movement at the rear of the car caught their attention.
Jean Paul and Marc were talking with someone, but their bodies hid the other person from view.
Jean Paul turned to look at her, and Anna saw a man in a train uniform behind him. A conductor?
Zar made a gesture, and Jean Paul stood aside so he could approach.
“I’m terribly sorry for interrupting, but one of our passengers, a boy, has fallen and injured himself.” The conductor made eye contact with Anna. “Would it be possible for you to check him?”
“How do you know I’m a doctor?” she asked.
“You are famous,” the man said. “The pictures and reports of you and Prince Zarius helping the injured yesterday are everywhere.”
“Oh, yes, right.” She flashed him a smile. “I keep forgetting about that.” She turned to Zar. “Do you mind if I examine the boy?”
“Not at all.” He got to his feet and helped her to hers. “I’ll come with you in case you need a translator.”
Jean Paul leaned in to whisper furiously with Zar in undertones that didn’t carry, but Zar only shook his head and indicated that Anna should go first and follow the conductor.
She wasn’t sure what had Jean Paul’s undies in a twist, but it wasn’t something she could fix. If she’d learned anything in the last few months, it was that worrying about things she couldn’t fix was a waste of time, effort, and happiness.