Page 111 of Take Hold of Me

Emilie

Maman leadsme into another boutique filled with all sorts of fun jewelry, her specialty. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings and rings are separated into various counters.

“I found this place a month ago,” she says while examining a bracelet. “Their inventory is very unusual, and it changes all the time.” She holds up a gold bracelet with a dragonfly clasp. “See? Isn’t this beautiful?”

The dragonfly’s wings are a shade of amethyst, which really makes the whole piece pop. Maman has been offering her friends style advice ever since I can remember. No wonder where I get it from.

“Oui. I do not think I have ever seen one like it before.”

Her face lights up in a smile as she tells the clerk to put it at the register for her. We move onto the earring counter. My eyes roam over the display, then zero in on one set. A drop earring with a silver starfish surrounded by turquoise beads—the color ofhiseyes. I stifle my gasp behind my hand.

“What?”

I shake my head, but I am too late. Maman taps on the glass above the earrings that caught my eye, signaling for the clerk to let us examine them. Shaking my head, I step back.

“Emsy, what is it? You haven’t been yourself all weekend.”

I cannot give in to tears in public. My eyes linger over the gorgeous pair of starfish that reminds me so much of my last trip to the Caymans. When Wills did everything he could to make me feel better about having missed out on Rose’s bridal shower.

I swallow the sawdust in my mouth and dart a look at my mother. Her eyes are slits, as if she is seeing right through me. And she probably is. She knows me better than anyone else on earth.

Maman addresses the clerk. “We’ll take those earrings as well.”

Leaving me to stew, she heads to the register to pay. She is not going to let me get away without explaining myself to her. So far, I have avoided discussing Wills and what happened in LA, but I cannot hold out much longer.

Carrying a small bag with the boutique’s logo on it, she returns to my side and takes my arm. “We’re going home now. Where we can talk freely.”

Nothing else is said on our trip back home. She let me drive, now that I have my license in America, but even that thrill does not excite me.

When I put the car in park in the designated spot, Maman says, “You did a wonderful job driving, Emsy.Papaand I are so proud of you.”

With those words, the floodgates open. I put my head in my hands and cry. Cry for what I lost and who I cannot be with again.

“Finally.” She pats my shoulder. “Let’s go inside and you can let it all out. Okay?”

Catching my breath on a sob, I nod and follow her. The comforting furniture of the salondraws me in as if I were a child again. Despite the beautiful Parisian October day, my hands are ice cold. Squeezing them together, I begin, “Maman, so much is wrong.”

“Talk to me.”

Where do I begin? “Both my professional and personal lives are a mess.”

She hands me a tissue. “Let’s start with your career. You won another contract, right?”

Dabbing my eyes, I suck in my breath and let the words tumble out. “Oui. I met Geonna in London when we walked together for a house, and she reminded me of myself a decade ago. She was so excited to try for new things.”

“And you’re not that way anymore?”

I shake my head. “Sometimes. Like for the movie part, I was looking forward to trying my hand at acting. I knew my lines,”—images of running them with Wills, in bed, pop into my head but I close off my mind to them. “But when I got to the set, they sprang the change pages on me. And Rinaldo.”

Maman’s eyes light up at the mention of my ex, but something in my face must have stopped her from gushing over him. She waits for me to continue.

“The movie people all told me I was a natural, yet I do not feel the need to do another movie. Photo shoots, even Fashion Week, does not spark my interest as much anymore. A little.” I hold up my thumb and index finger, twisting at my wrist. “Do not get me wrong, I like getting together with my friends who I do not see that often. Val was in London, as a matter of fact.”

“She’s a nice girl.”

“Oui. I got to be with her for a few days and then she was off to Munich. I had more houses to walk for, and that was when Lizzie came. Not to be on the catwalk. She was in the audience. I got to spend time with her that evening, which wastrès bon. We talked about the future.”

“What did she say?”

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