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.”