I APPRECIATED MANY things about the fact that Mathieu had “outed” us. The freedom to touch him was liberating. But as far as secrets went, I’d just dug myself into a huge hole.

Eric kept trying to corner me after dinner, but I managed to elude him. I couldn’t blame him. If it were the other way around, I’d be trying to get answers too, but I wasn’t sure how much I could tell him. For all I knew, he’d run to Eva with the information if I shared it with him.

Mathieu met us outside the apartment and snagged my hand, pulling me close, which effectively kept my brother away. But I had a new problem: how much did I tell Mathieu? He wasn’t a fool, so he’d soon figure it out. Much better for him to hear it from me.

But that idea was shot out of the water within an hour.

We’d met Camille and Mathieu’s friends on the Left Bank of the Seine, about halfway between the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame. About thirty teens had gathered on the concrete path that ran along the river, below the road. While I was excited to spend more time with Mathieu’s friends, I also wanted some time alone with him to warn him about Dane’s change of travel plans.

Mathieu’s friends had brought multiple bottles of wine, which they passed around. Everyone but me took drinks. Dane drank more than everyone else, getting loud and boisterous. I was thankful when he and Camille moved to the opposite side of the path.

Eric walked over to me, shaking his head in disgust. “I hope you’re happy, Sophie. You get four more weeks with the jerk. Who cares what I want?”

Mathieu’s arm tightened around my back as he gave my brother a wary stare. “What’s he talking about?”

“Your new girlfriend didn’t tell you?” Eric sneered, then stumbled on his feet. So he’d been hitting the bottles hard too.

“Eric,” I pleaded. “Stop. Let me take you home.”

“Home?” he asked. “Where is that? Dad’s apartment in Paris or our real home in Charleston?”

“Eric. Please.”

“You always were his favorite.” His words were slurred, and he listed to the side a little and then righted himself. “That’s why he let Dane stay even after I told him I wanted him to go home.”

The blood rushed from my face. “What?”

“He promised me he wouldn’t cave to Camille’s whining, but all it took was for you to pour on the tears and he let him stay.” He clapped his hands, each strike hitting slightly off-center. “Bravo.”

“Sophie. What is he talking about?” Mathieu’s voice lowered.

I looked up at him, fear clogging my throat. “I asked Dad to let Dane stay.”

“Why?” But understanding filled his eyes before they darkened and turned toward my stepsister.

I grabbed his arm. “Mathieu. Don’t.”

“Why did you do it?” he pleaded. “I told you I wanted it out in the open.”

“I couldn’t let her destroy you,” I said, my voice shaking. “I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I could have stopped her.”

“What are you talking about?” Eric asked a little too loudly.

I needed to get him home. While teenage drinking was tolerated here, public drunkenness was not.

Eric leaned forward, leering at me. “He’s screwing her, you know.”

“Eric!”

He laughed and pointed his finger at me. “He only wants one thing from you, Sophie, and I told him I’d kill him if he came near you.”

Mathieu tensed next to me. “If he comes near her, I will kill him myself.”

Eric saluted him, the gesture sloppy. “Finally, we have something in common, Matt-Pew.”

This entire situation felt like it had turned into a powder keg.

“Nobody’s killing anyone.” I forced a smile even though my hands were shaking. “You know what? I’m hungry. Why don’t we get some ice cream? Or some French bread. Let’s go.”

“I know you like him,” Eric spat out. “I know you’ve liked him for two years. You thought you were hiding it, but I could see. So could he.”

Mathieu froze.

I was about to die from mortification. “Eric. Enough. Let’s go.” I was surprised at the authority in my voice.

He must have been too, because his demeanor changed and he said, “Okay.”

“Mathieu, will you help me with him?”

I could see the hesitation in his eyes, and my heart sank. “I’ll explain all of it, I promise. But you have to help me get him home. Please.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell Camille we’re going.”

“Like she cares,” Eric sneered.

Finally, something he and I agreed on tonight.

I watched Mathieu approach Camille and Dane, then gesture toward us. Camille literally turned her back. Seemed she was done with me now that she’d gotten what she wanted.

Good riddance.

Mathieu helped me guide Eric to the street, but we had to stop halfway toward the stairs to let Eric barf on the cobblestones.

“I didn’t see him drink that much,” I murmured, feeling guilty as I watched him bracing himself on his legs. He might have been my older brother, but I still felt responsible for him.

Mathieu didn’t answer, but he seemed guarded, watching my brother instead of looking at me.

“Mathieu.” When he refused to look at me, I was more blunt. “Mathieu.”

The pain in his eyes ripped my heart to shreds. “You are the one I want. I had a stupid little girl crush on the guy, but he turned out to be a complete jerk. Then I met a guy with more maturity and compassion than that idiot has in his little toe. Please don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“But you begged your father to let him stay.”

“And you know why.” My tone was harsh, but I had to get the message across.

“I wish you hadn’t done it.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust him. He’s your brother’s friend, yet your brother hates his guts. That guy is nothing but trouble, and we’re all going to pay for this before the summer is over.”

The memory of Dane grabbing my wrists popped into my head, and I had a feeling Mathieu might be right. But I couldn’t undo it now. Besides, I’d do it all over again if it protected Mathieu, even though it stung to know I was hurting my brother in the process.

“Are you two going to talk all night or help me up?” Eric asked, on his knees.

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to me to have a serious conversation with my boyfriend while my brother was puking five feet away.

Mathieu and I each grabbed one of his arms and hauled him to his feet. “Do you think we can get a taxi?” I asked as we started walking again.

“Non. Even if we could get a taxi to take him, which is doubtful, he needs to walk it off.”

I had serious doubts he would make it all the way home, but we didn’t have a choice. “Not how you pictured our second date, huh?” I asked.

“I told you, we French don’t date.” Mathieu gave me his boyish grin, and some of my tension eased.

“But we Americans do, so this disaster is our second date.”

“If you are tallying dates, why don’t any of our breakfasts count?”

“Because we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend then.”

“Sophie,” he said softly. “I was officially your boyfriend when I kissed you on the Eiffel Tower.”

“I can’t help it if no one explained the rules to French dating.”

“Will you two stop bickering?” Eric moaned. “You’re giving me a headache. And if you keep talking about kissing, it’s going to make me barf again.”

“No,” Mathieu said. “The bottle of wine you drank is giving you a headache and is about to make you barf again.” He turned to me. “Okay, so I watched him.”

I smiled, though I felt a bit guilty for feeling so happy while Eric was obviously suffering. Despite Eric’s protests, we continued to talk about other differences between the French and Americans.

“Americans are loud,” Mathieu said. “We French are more subdued.”

Eric snorted. “Most of you French smoke. Most American’s don’t.”

“We French find most Americans to be prudes with nudity.”

“You French sleep around,” Eric said.

“Non,” Mathieu said, turning to look at me behind my brother’s back. “While we aren’t so strict with sex, we usually have sex only when we are in love.”

“Stop talking about sex around my sister!”

I could tell my cheeks were beet red, but I forced a laugh. What was Mathieu telling me? That he hadn’t slept around? I’d never suspected him of it, but it was nice to know anyway.

It took us over a half hour, but we finally reached our building’s front door. Only then did I realize we had another dilemma on our hands.

“How do we get him in?” I asked.

Mathieu dropped his hold on my brother’s arm and leaned against the building. “Will your father believe it if he says he has a stomachache?”

I cringed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I don’t have any other ideas. Let’s try it.”

We half dragged Eric up the stairs and opened the apartment door. I peered inside, surprised that it was quiet and dark. One lamp was on in the living room.

“We’re lucky,” I said. “They must be out.”

“Let’s get him to his bed.”

Mathieu led him down the hall while I got a glass of water from the kitchen. He was helping lower Eric to the bed as I reached the doorway. When Mathieu started to rise, Eric grabbed his arm and pulled him back down until they were nearly nose to nose. “I might have been wrong about you.”

Mathieu grinned as he stood, waving a hand in front of his face. “Merci.”

Eric rolled onto his back, closing his eyes. “But if you hurt my sister, I’ll have to beat the crap out of you.”

“Fair enough.”

I set the water on the nightstand and started to pull Eric’s shoes off, but he jerked upright and pointed at me. “I’m still mad at you. Dane Wallace is a prick.”

“I know, and I’m really sorry.”

He laid back down. “I’ll make you pay for it later.”

I was sure he would.

We left him in bed and wandered out into the hall. Mathieu glanced at the front door. “I guess this is the end of our night.”

“Not necessarily.” I leaned my head toward the living room. “We can sit in here and watch TV.”

“Are you sure your father will be okay with it?”

I shrugged and grinned. “We’re making sure Eric’s all right.”

“Okay.”

We sat on the sofa, and he put his arm around me as we watched a French sitcom. Mathieu told me what they were saying and made me repeat the phrases.

Something warm and cozy filled my heart, bringing me a sense of peace. I looked back at him to reassure myself this wasn’t a dream.

He caught my gaze and narrowed his eyes. “What?”

I stretched my neck and gave him a gentle kiss. “So many things are wrong in my life right now, but all I can see are the things that are right. Thank you for encouraging me with my piano when my dad seems intent on making me quit. Thank you for tolerating the craziness that seems to follow me around.”

His smile lit up his face. “I will put up with any kind of crazy if I get to spend time with you.”

I was counting on it. At least for the four weeks I had left.