Page 70 of One for the Road
Nineteen
DeeDee
SHAKE: combining the ingredients of a drink by rapidly agitating them together, most often in a cocktail shaker
Zach dropsmy hand and jogs a few feet ahead of me up the sidewalk. I watch him squat down to pull a yellow dandelion from where it’s growing out of a crack in the concrete.
“For you,MademoiselleBeausoleil.” I catch up with him, and he bows as he holds the dandelion out. “A May flower.”
I pretend to hold up a long skirt with one hand as I curtsy. “It is beautiful,MonsieurHastings.”
I take the flower and hold it up to my face, breathing deep. I end up getting a nose full of pollen and sneezing a record number of times in a row.
Zach laughs and motions for me to give the flower back. “Here. Let me put it in your hair.”
I watch his face crease with concentration as he comes close and tucks my hair behind my ear before trying to do the same thing with the flower. It takes him a few tries, and when he finally gets the stem to stay in place, he beams and drops his blue eyes to mine.
“Hey.” He moves his hand to cup my cheek, his smile fading. “You okay?”
I force a grin. “Ouais. Just a little tired.”
“We don’t have to go.”
“No, no, no.” I pull away and grab his hand to start heading up the street again. “I want to go. It’s going to be fun. I haven’t been to the Old Port in forever.”
Zach suggested we head down there to spend our afternoon off work together. We make our way through the cobblestone streets of Old Montreal, still holding hands. It’s just past noon, and the streets are already starting to fill with tourists here to see all the old-fashioned buildings. We pass fancy restaurants and shops selling souvenirs covered in maple leaves and beavers.
I catch Zach staring at me as we head down to the river, his mouth opening like he wants to ask if I’m okay again before he shuts it and grinds his teeth instead. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I haven’t slept well in days, that the panic I felt when Monroe said he was leaving settled somewhere in my chest and refuses to leave no matter how hard I work to push it away.
I’m being crazy, though. I’m freaking out over nothing. I’m being needy, and I don’t know how to stop.
All I want is to be able tostop.
“Speaking of May flowers...” I put some extra bounce in my step and pull my sunglasses off my head and onto my face so my smile will be more convincing. “Is Paige excited for her next show?”
Zach chuckles. “Well, she’s Paige, so it’s hard to tell if she feels any emotions at all, but I’m pretty sure she’s grateful you talked Monroe into giving her a regular monthly gig. Although playing a night with a ‘May Flowers’ theme sounds a little too cheerful to be her style.”
“She’s really not as scary as you think,” I tease.
He gives me a look.
“Ben, okay, so she is a little scary, but she can be really sweet too. She’s going to be part of the Taverne Toulouse family now!”
“Yeah, we all need that one moody cousin who only wears black.” He squeezes my hand and turns serious. “It was really sweet of you to do that for her.”
I kick a few pebbles along the sidewalk.
“She seems kind of lonely,” I murmur before I can stop myself. “Nobody should have to be lonely.”
Zach’s grip on my hand gets even tighter. “DeeDee—”
“Oh, we’re here!”
The Old Port comes into view just in time to save me from the conversation. I pick up the pace as we step onto the boardwalk running along the river, dragging Zach with me. The crowd is thicker here, and even though it’s only May, all the summer activities are already in full money-making swing. There are food trucks selling things like crepes and ice cream, and lots of artists with displays of jewellery and paintings set up under covered stands. Kids run around between the adults strolling next to the water, ice cream cones melting in their hands. The shadow of Montreal’s giant Ferris wheel falls over the boardwalk, the pods slowly circling to give people a view of the city and theFleuveSaint-Laurent.
A loud scream rings out over all the noise of the crowd, and my head jerks to face the sound. There’s a zip line set up farther down the path, the cable running high over everyone’s heads all the way out to the far end of a pier jutting into the water. It’s not very long, and the girl flying down it is only in the air for a few seconds, but she screams the whole way to the bottom.
I watch her like somebody staring at a car crash, frozen in place as I wait for something horrible to happen. I feel my knees lock up, and my heart starts pounding in my ears.
