I’d placed it on the charger when I got back from the opera, determined to call my mother when the time was right in California. After what I’d experienced tonight, I regretted not calling her sooner. She might still be mad at me for taking the semester off, but I didn’t care. Life was short. I’d had a front-row seat to that lesson tonight.
I unplugged it and saw a half dozen missed calls from her. Before I could hit redial, the phone started to ring again.
“Mom?” I answered swiftly. “I’m so sorry. I was going to call you in a bit.”
“Am I speaking to Thea Melbourne?” a stranger’s voice asked me.
I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. I nodded.
“Um, hello?” the stranger said.
“Oh!” I startled. “Yes, this is Thea.” I checked my screen and saw that the call was definitely coming from my mother’s phone. The heart in my throat plummeted to the floor.
“This is St. John’s hospital. A patient was brought into the emergency room earlier, and we found this number listed as her emergency contact. Do you know the owner of this phone?”
“It’s my mom,” I whispered, clutching the phone like it could anchor me.
“Would it be possible for you to come to the hospital?”
“I’m in Paris.” A raw ache crept into my words. I fought to control my panic. “Is something wrong?”
“Normally, a doctor would want to speak with you in person, but I guess it might take you a while to get here.” I heard fingers typing on a keyboard. How could anyone multitask at a time like this?
“Is my mother dead?” I blurted out.
“Oh, sugar, no!” she said gently. “But she’s not awake. The doctors are trying to figure out what happened. Should I have them call you when they know more?”
“Yes,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure she’d hear me.
“And is it okay for them to call when they have a minute?”
“As soon as they know anything,” I said, snapping into action. I was already out the bedroom door and racing toward the stairs. I froze when I caught a glimpse of several people leaving. As Hughes saw them out, I recognized the dark, perfectly coiffed hair of the one lingering at the rear. “And I’m on my way.”
Sabine swiveled toward my voice, her eyes pinning me to the spot. The look on her face sent a chill racing through me. But she didn’t say anything. She simply murmured something to Hughes and stepped out behind the other guests.
“I’ll let them know,” the nurse on the other end said.
“Thanks.” I hung up with her and dashed down the stairs.
“Where is he?” I asked Hughes.
“In the drawing room.” But I was already racing down the hall. “Can I be of service, mademoiselle?”
I shook my head, my heart pounding as I rounded the corner and found Julian staring out the window into the sparkling night.
“My mom,” I said, gasping. I was barely holding back tears. “I’m sorry. I need to get home right away. The hospital called.”
Julian didn’t turn toward me. He continued to look out the window. His palm rested on its sill, and I found myself calling out again, “My mom! Look, I know we’re fighting, but–”
“We aren’t fighting,” he said quietly. “Is that what you think?”
I paused, unsure how to answer that question. “Look, it’s not important. My mom is in the hospital. I need to be with her.”
“I understand.” Julian didn’t look at me as he spoke. He walked past me and deposited a handful of glass on the bar. I gawked at his bloody palm, trying to figure out how he’d injured himself and why he was acting so weird.
“It looks like you should be in the hospital, too.” I went to him, but he continued to stare past me. “Julian?”
“It will heal,” he said dismissively. “So. You need to go home.”
“Yes, can we leave soon?” I asked.
There was a pause before he answered, “I’m afraid I need to stay here.”
I nodded. I wanted to understand his position. He was expected to stay here. But it hurt that he wouldn’t come with me. “Can you come soon?”
“Oh, pet.” Something about the way he said it made my stomach clench. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“I don’t understand,” I said slowly. I searched his face for clues to his sudden distance. We’d just been holding hands in bed. Was he that upset that I didn’t want to sleep with another man? But I might as well have been analyzing a mask. His face betrayed nothing.
“I believe this is our swan song,” he said in a hollow tone.
Tiny fissures cracked my heart. “A swan song is an ending…”
“Exactly.” He glanced at me for just a moment. His blue eyes burned through me, but he quickly looked away. “This was always inevitable. I guess it’s better to end it now before anyone gets hurt.”
“Hurt?” I stared at him. What was he saying? What was going on? “Does this have something to do with your mother–”
“No. I’ve been fooling myself. I see that now.”
