Maman video calls me via Skype over breakfast.

I mute the radio, prop my tablet up, and answer the call.

“Bonjour, mon chéri,” Maman says.

Her hair, clothes and makeup are as impeccable as ever.

“Salut, Maman.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you, too, Maman.”

“My sweet little boy.” She gives me a smile tinted with nostalgia. “All grown-up and handsome. Just look at you.”

I clear my throat. “Shouldn’t you be at the office, bossing people around right now?”

She sighs. “I should, but… I took a day off.”

“Are you OK? Migraine?”

“Yes.” She rubs her left temple. “Uma’s latest news triggered it.”

My heart skips a beat. “Did something happen to her? Is she all right?”

“She’s OK.” Maman gives me a funny little smile. “But she must get out of here real soon. Sooner than we thought.”

I sit back, waiting for details.

“Mr. Darji told her over dinner last night he’d been approached about her and expects her to be married by October.”

“What?”

She rubs her forehead. “I knew this would happen. Last time I paid them a visit, Mrs. Darji said something about Uma being ripe for marriage, but I hoped it was just a general observation.”

Uma is twenty-three, so by Nepali standards, she’s close to overripe.

“But what about her plans? I thought the Darjis were proud of her talent, and that she was going to Paris to learn haute couture embroidery.”

“They were,” Maman says. “And now, all of a sudden, they aren’t anymore. I had the most unpleasant conversation with Mr. Darji after Uma called me earlier tonight. She was on the verge of a meltdown, the poor thing.”

“What did Mr. Darji say?”

“That the man who approached him about Uma is a Brahmin.”

“Shit.”

Maman smirks. “Certainly not from Mr. Darji’s perspective. To him, it’s a chance of a lifetime and an honor. You should’ve heard him rave about the match. How do you reason with someone who’s ecstatic?”

I can’t say I’m surprised. Brahmins are the high aristocracy in Hindu societies, and the Darjis are Dalits—one of the lowest and poorest castes. Mr. and Mrs. Darji love their children, but I’ve always suspected their letting Maman encourage Uma’s dreams wasn’t because they believed in the economic emancipation of women. They just thought that beautiful, educated Uma was too good for street peddlers and manual workers of their own caste.

And then a Brahmin comes along.

No wonder he’s ecstatic.

I exhale a heavy breath. “Does Uma want to marry the man?”

“Absolutely not!” Maman bugs her eyes out for emphasis. “She dreams about Paris, the Ecole Lesage, and…” She gives me that funny look again.

“What?” I prompt.

“She’s in love with you,” Maman blurts out.

For months now, there have been hints and allusions, but it’s the first time Maman has actually said it.

I tilt my head to the side. “Oh, come on. We’ve been friends for years. I’d know.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Men are terrible at knowing things like that.”

“What are you saying, Maman?”

“Nothing. Just that I’ve suspected for a while now that my lovely protégée is enamored with my darling boy.” She hesitates. “I’d be just as ecstatic as Mr. Darji, if it turned out the feeling was mutual.”

At a loss for words, I blink and stare at her.

This conversation starts to feel like the dreaded game situation when I’m on the wrong side of the goal cage with the opponent’s top scorer at the two-meter line, and not a single defense player around to give me a hand.

Fortunately, I’m not in the pool right now.

I can dodge the ball.

“Can you speed up her visa?” I ask. “Is Uma prepared to go against her father’s wishes?”

“To answer your first question, yes, I can. Remember Monsieur Strausse from the consulate?”

“Not really.”

“Anyway, I’m going to call in a favor.” She clenches her jaw. “Uma will have her visa next week.”

“What about Mr. Darji’s consent?”

She studies her hands. “Uma hopes the two of us can persuade Mrs. Darji, and that the three of us can make Mr. Darji change his mind.”

“But you don’t believe that, do you?”

She gives me a pleading look. I know that look. It was what I’d get every time I asked for more details about my father and my brothers. Especially Sebastian.

Maman told me once, five or six years ago, that it hurt too much to talk about it. Didn’t I have all the facts? Didn’t I know what my father had done to her, and how my older brothers took his side so he wouldn’t disinherit them? Wasn’t that enough?

She was right, of course. It should be.

I mean, it is.

Just as I’m about to say bye, Maman purses her lips, and her gaze hardens. “No, I don’t believe we can convince Mr. Darji. I don’t even think we can sway his wife. They see this proposal as a gift from the gods.”

“So what will Uma do?”

“Why don’t you call and ask her?”

“I will.”

She nods and a few minutes later we hang up.

I finish my breakfast with a lot less appetite than before Maman’s call.

When I get to the pool, it turns out I may not be the only one with bad news today. At least that’s what the look on Zach’s face suggests, as he jumps into the water fifteen minutes after the practice has started.

Zach’s never late.

“You OK?” I ask him when Lucas lets us rest a few minutes between leg conditioning and shooting drills.

He nods. “I’m fine. It’s… I’ll explain later.”

Lucas blows his whistle, and Zach mucks up his first try from a perfect position. He mutters a curse before picking up the ball again and slamming it with all he’s got. I jump high out of the water and block it. His next shot is going to be a lob. That’s bad news for me, because Zach is one of the rare players who is able to do it right.

He throws, netting the ball.

By the end of the practice, he’s fully recovered his legendary control, and the coach’s face relaxes visibly as a result. Small wonder. Our captain isn’t just our club’s best scorer. He’s quite possibly the best shooter in France and one of the best in Europe. While my moniker is “The Rock” due to blocking talents, we call Zach “The Nuke” as in a weapon of mass destruction.

“Is it Sam?” I ask him in the locker room. “Has he come down with something?”

He shakes his head. “Sam’s fine. It’s his nanny.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Mathilde the Perfect?”

“Mathilde the Perfect is cutting her hours in half starting Monday,” Zach says with a sigh. “I’ll have to miss the afternoon practice, and possibly sit out the season. I’m at my wit’s end.”

“Doesn’t she owe you a longer notice?” I tie the laces of my sneakers. “Is something wrong with one of her own kids?”

He rakes his hands through his hair. “Her older son has been hanging with the worst cads at school. Almost got expelled last week for something that upsets her so much she won’t even talk about it. The kid’s only thirteen.”

“Shit.”

“She’s cutting her hours so she can spend more time with her children.”

“Can she afford it?”

“Unfortunately for me,” Zach says with a smirk, “she can. Her husband is a security guard at a shopping mall, and he’s about to get a promotion, so they’ll manage.”

“Hey, you should see this as an opportunity to get that au pair you’ve been thinking about!”

“Your friend Uma,” Zach says. “Did she get her visa?”

“Not yet, but she will in a few days.”

“You said she’d be looking for a part-time job as soon as she gets here, right?”

“Oh, I see where you’re going with this.” I give him a happy grin. “She will, indeed.”

“Mathilde will keep the mornings, so I’m looking for an au pair to babysit Sam in the afternoon.”

“Uma will be attending embroidery classes at the Ecole Lesage in the morning, and she’ll be free in the afternoon,” I say. “It’s perfect.”

“Do you think she’ll do an occasional evening, too, so I can go out and ‘get a life,’ as you put it?”

“I’m positive. Uma’s your man… er… woman,” I say. “She’s great with kids.”

“Does she speak French? I’m afraid Sam won’t understand any Nepali and his English is very limited.”

“She speaks perfect French, as it happens. She went to the same Lycée Français as me, thanks to Maman’s Foundation.”

Zach expels a relieved breath. “So, you think she’d be interested.”

“I’ll ask her later today, but I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“Tell her she’ll have a big sunny bedroom, between Sam’s room and the guest bathroom. We’ll sign a standard contract, and I’ll pay her cash for every extra hour.”

I nod. “We’ll tell her parents she’ll be working for a family, OK? If any Nepalis call your house, you’re married.”

“No problem.” Zach smiles. “I totally get how that would reassure her parents. If necessary, I’ll ask Colette to play along and talk to them over Skype when she stops by to visit Sam.”

“She won’t mind?”

Zach has maintained a good relationship with his ex for Sam’s sake, but I doubt she’s a generous kind of person.

“She’ll do it,” Zach says.

“Cool.”

He gives me a suspicious look. “Is there something going on between you and Uma that I should be aware of?”

The question is so unexpected I lose my tongue.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Zach adds quickly. “And you’re free to say it’s none of my fucking business. It’s just… as her future employer and your friend, I’d like to know if she’s more than a friend to you or used to be more than a friend. To avoid gaffes or awkwardness.”

“It’s a fair question,” I say. “We’ve never been romantically involved. But we used to be close growing up. She’s a fantastic human being.”

Zach cocks his head. “Is that a roundabout way of saying you’d like to be romantically involved with her?”

I remember Maman’s statement that Uma is in love with me. Could she be right? What about me? Do I love Uma more than just as a friend?

“Relax.” Zach pats my shoulder. “I’m her future employer not her older brother.”

I pick up my duffel bag and stand. “If I were looking for a relationship, I guess Uma would be perfect. My mother certainly thinks so.”

“Well done, buddy!” Zach grins. “You haven’t even started dating the woman, but you already have your mother’s approval.” He stands and slings his duffel over his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, you have mine, too.”

“That’s great.” I give a tight smile. “But I’m not looking for a relationship at the moment. I want to focus on the games.”

Which is why the attraction I feel for Sophie is best ignored.

Offering to take her to the flea market on Sunday was a deplorable lapse of judgment. But it’s too late to call it off now. I’ll be fine. I’ll do my duty as a good tenant, making sure to keep it friendly and professional the whole time. And after we say good-bye, chances are we’ll never see each other again.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Zach says. “I want to focus on the games, too. But I do look forward to having an au pair in the house so I can date again.”

I give him a sympathetic smile.

“That is,” Zach adds, “if I can figure out the new dating rules and remember how to ask a woman out.”

It’s my turn to pat his shoulder. “Fret not, my friend. I happen to know a hot single woman who might be exactly what you need.”

The moment those words are out, I wish I could take them back. A jealousy I’ve never felt for anyone before stirs deep inside me. It makes me feel like a character in the Alien movies who discovers that a horrible creature has quietly hatched and grown inside his gut.

The beast thrashes in anger and pain, roaring, “Sophie’s mine!”

What the fuck?

“That would be fantastic!” Zach turns to me, his eyes bright. “Do you think you could arrange a chance encounter?”

“Sure thing.” I force a smile even as the alien bellows so hard I can barely hear myself speak.