“This Venus would’ve stood eight feet tall before she lost her upper half.” Our smiley guide points to the fragment of a female statue from the waist down.

Unlike the other chubby prehistoric statues of Venus I’d seen in Parisian museums over the summer, this one isn’t naked. She wears a pleated skirt. Considering how much of her ample thighs are revealed by the garment, I conclude it wasn’t the beatniks of the sixties that invented the mini. The revolutionary style was pioneered by the mysterious civilization that built Stonehenge-like temples in Malta several millennia BC.

As evidenced in by the Venus in front of me.

The guide steps aside to let us take photos of the Stone Age fashionista.

“I wanted to show you the Hypogeum,” Zach says after I snap a pic with my phone. “It’s an incredible underground burial complex not far from here. Lucas had arranged for the team to visit it when we played in Malta last year. But it’s closed for maintenance now.”

I pat his arm. “Don’t worry. I have more than enough to gawk at, even without the Hypogeum.”

“The Tarxien Venus represents the Earth Mother or the Great Goddess,” our guide says. “She’s also a symbol of fertility.”

“What happened to the civilization that built this temple?” a tourist in our group asks.

“My favorite theory is that it disappeared following the planetary cataclysm that sank Atlantis,” the guide says before waving for us to follow him out of the temple.

I squint in the bright sunlight as Zach and I trek back to Valletta—the small capital of this tiny European country. It’s hard to believe how warm and summerlike this place is compared to the incessant rains and cold winds that have taken hold of Paris. The only way to know it’s already December is by the occasional Christmas carol that streams from a shop or a loudspeaker on the street.

OK, more than occasional.

The Maltese must love their Christmas carols.

Zach came home from Nice last week and announced he was taking me on a weekend trip to Malta. As Colette was unavailable to look after Sam on such short notice, Zach took him to Arles to stay with Grandma and Grandpa. I had suggested we take Sam along, but Zach said he wanted us to be alone to discuss something.

I’m trying not to drive myself crazy guessing what it is.

Has he brought me here to declare his feelings? Or is this a goodbye gift before he breaks up with me to reunite with Colette?

If he doesn’t talk soon, I will go crazy.

“How do you like Malta?” Zach asks as we stroll down one of the central streets.

“Very much.”

“Do you think you could live here for a few months next year?”

I frown, taken aback by the question.

“I’m asking that because residency is a requirement to get a Maltese passport,” Zach says.

I stop in my tracks and turn to him. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I was wondering… I thought…” He shuts his eyes as if to collect his thoughts.

My heart races.

Zach opens his eyes. “You shouldn’t go back to Nepal after what happened between us.”

I don’t respond, processing his words.

“I was too stupid and selfish,” he says. “You being a virgin at twenty-three should’ve raised a red flag about how big a deal chastity is in your culture.”

“So you regret…”—I look down—“sleeping with me?”

He takes my hand. “I don’t. I can’t. It’s too good.”

I look up.

“Sex with you blows my mind, chaton,” he says. “Every single time.”

Who knew it was possible to experience two opposite emotions at the same time? What he said about the sex with me makes my chest swell with joy and pride. What he didn’t say about his feelings makes me choke on swallowed tears.

I shrug. “What will happen in Nepal is not your problem.”

“I respectfully disagree.” He attempts a smile. “There’s no way I’m letting you suffer the consequences of the pleasure you gave me—of the pleasure you’re giving me—while I carry on with my life.”

I sweep my hand at the buildings along the street. “What’s Malta got to do with any of that?”

“Malta is a member of the European Union,” he says. “It has a program that allows foreigners to acquire citizenship through residency and investment. A Maltese passport will give you the right to work and live in any EU country including France.”

This is so far-fetched I don’t even know what to say.

“That’s why I brought you here,” Zach says. “I wanted you to see the place and decide if you like it enough to live here for a while.”

“Doing what?”

He shrugs. “Chilling. Embroidering. Showing me around when I visit.”

“What about Sam?”

“I’ll bring him along when I can.”

“I mean, who’ll look after him?”

He sighs. “Mathilde. Me. My parents. Hopefully, Colette.”

“Or you could get a new au pair,” I say with a smirk.

“Uma, please.” He cups my face, a pleading look in his brown eyes.

“Colette was never interested in Sam,” I say. “Why would she be now? What gives?”

“When Sam was diagnosed, she didn’t expect him to make it. The doctors told us he might be too seriously handicapped to have a normal life. I chose to fight. She chose to withdraw to spare herself future pain.”

“Future hassle, more like,” I mutter.

“That too.” He strokes my cheek. “I’m not trying to justify her, but… I’m trying to understand. Now that he’s doing so much better than everyone expected, she wants a second chance.”

I give him a hard stare. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“You’re right,” he says. “But I’m going to give it to her, anyway. For Sam’s sake.”

Are you also going to let her back into your life and your bed while I’m “chilling” in Malta?

But I don’t dare to ask that question, too scared of what he might say in response, honest as he is.

“OK,” I say. “Let’s imagine for a second that I went along with your madcap idea. What about the cost? If I don’t have a job, I won’t be able to pay rent, and even if I find a job, I won’t be able to make the investment you mentioned. How much is it?”

He knits his brows. “Who said you were going to pay for anything?”

“How big is the required investment, Zach?”

He rubs his forehead before muttering, “One mil.”

My jaw drops. Unless he’s talking rupees and not euros, the amount is obscene.

“I’m selling my company,” he says, “It’ll fetch at least half the money. Noah will supply the other half from his trust fund.”

I lift my eyes skyward. “You’ve lost your mind—both of you—if you think I’ll accept that kind of sacrifice.”

“It’s no sacrifice! I’ll start a new business, and with the experience I have now, it won’t take me more than a year to make it profitable.”

“And what would you and Sam do during that year?”

“We’ll live on my savings and water polo salary.” He arches an eyebrow. “See? I’ve thought this through. No sacrifice.”

“I’m grateful, Zach,” I say. “I truly am. For this weekend and for your generous offer. But I’m going to say no.”

He begins to protest, so I put my hand over his mouth to shush him. “I want to go back to Nepal. I may not look like it, but I’m strong enough to pursue my own path over there, regardless of what society expects of me.”

“When did you make that decision?” He knits his eyebrows. “Last time I checked, your big dream was to work for a Parisian haute couture house.”

“I changed my mind while you were in Australia.”

He narrows his eyes, still unconvinced.

“I already bought my plane ticket,” I lie. “My parents are expecting me back in three weeks, as soon as I graduate.”

He looks crestfallen.

As I draw away and start walking, I tell myself Zach will appreciate what I’m doing later, when his lust for me wears off, and he reunites with Colette. I hope she can make him happy.

I hope she can find it in her to be the mother Sam deserves.