Page 12 of Here in My Heart (Here Together #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ade paced the perimeter of her apartment for the sixty-seventh time.

She couldn’t settle. Her thoughts whirled, creating a tornado of confusion in her mind.

She counted the days on her calendar until she got to a big circle with Steph’s name inside.

The time had marched on very quickly, but as Steph’s return approached, Ade had to admit, she was looking forward to their brief reunion.

She’d also missed the guiding hand of Sylvie.

This week had been a kind of lonely Ade had never known.

She popped open her laptop. Fifty-four unread emails.

That should keep her mind busy. She wriggled her fingers and opened the first one.

Boring . She skipped to Sylvie’s last mail, which was advance notice of their next catch-up, at which she was expecting a program for the next semester.

Ade smiled at Sylvie’s professional tone, knowing the unique blend of sharp wit and softness that lay beyond it.

Next, she opened a message from Greg, her faithful, if wet behind the ears, assistant.

She squinted at the screen and re-read the words.

It was sent to the whole Monterey cohort inviting them to a club night at Bleu in the city.

Ade was sure she’d ventured up that way last time Steph was in town, and if she trusted her memory, it was a cool part of town, if a little loud.

The university’s messenger app pinged, and she instantly regretted showing her online status. The last thing she needed was an influx of demands over the weekend.

Hey there, Ade. Are you heading out with us tonight?

How did Greg pop up wherever she was? Do you have a tracking device on me ?

What?

Nothing. You’re just always around.

The messages stopped. Maybe he’d gotten bored with the conversation.

We’re meeting up in half an hour for a drink before the club. Come along… It’d be really good for the whole group to get together.

Ade stared at the four walls that had contained her since Monday. Aside from a couple of lab shifts and a trip to the mini market, she’d had no contact with the outside.

Okay. But I can’t stay for too long.

Within an hour of joining them, Ade had finished her beer, attempting to dull the onslaught of voices, beats, and scraping furniture around her. It worked. The alcohol found its path to her brain, subduing the noise.

After another liter and several vodka shots, it was like wearing a diving mask, with the piercing voices of the others muffled to an acceptable level. Greg’s incessant attempts to strike up a conversation became almost bearable.

“We’re heading to Bleu after these,” he said, grinning with the reckless abandon afforded by an evening of cheap beer. “You coming?”

A tiny whisper inside Ade’s head said, No, thank you. I’ll be heading home where it’s safe and peaceful. But the mix of liquor delivered an emphatic yes, and then she was arm in arm with Madison, trotting down toward La Place de la Comédie.

She’d been in the dark, dingy nightclub less than ten minutes, when her nervous system overruled her.

She shielded her eyes from the blinding spotlights and dodged the swirling beams of the lasers.

The heaviness of the bass beating against her chest was so oppressive, she doubted her own breath, worried it wouldn’t make it far enough inside her lungs to provide the oxygen she craved.

The stench of sweat and sugary drinks overwhelmed her nostrils, making her nauseous.

She sought an exit for a breath of fresh air to cleanse her body.

When she awoke, she couldn’t remember getting home. The dawn light streamed through the shutters she hadn’t closed the night before. Her fuzzy mouth and weak stomach reminded her of the consumption of heavy liquor. Thank god it was the weekend, and she didn’t have to drag her sorry ass to campus.

As she rolled over, another wave of sickness threatened, and the fierce buzz of the intercom disturbed the silence. She dragged herself from the creased sheets and hit the two-way mic, putting her best French accent on the word “hello.”

The barrage of words that came back at her was indecipherable. She caught the words “air filter” and “rocks” but couldn’t work out the meaning.

“Just come up,” she said, beaten into verbal submission.

Maybe the agency had sent a maintenance guy.

Eventually, the heavy footsteps reached the fifth floor and a tall guy in overalls flashed her a smile, repeating some of the same words she couldn’t understand over the intercom.

Her hungover brain stalled, simultaneously translating and processing his meaning.

She stared, her nostrils twitching at his smell.

Is that tobacco? She glanced at his hands, seeking proof that he smoked so she could close that tab in her brain.

He gestured that he needed to come inside, and Ade showed him in. He scanned the room and headed for the bathroom. Inside, he pointed to the extractor fan and said something about cleaning it.

“Sure, go for it.” She sighed. Anything to hurry him along so she could get back to her bed to relieve her exhaustion.

A few minutes later, the guy came out with a handful of stones. “This bad,” he said, acting out taking them out of the filter.

“If you say so. I don’t mean to be rude,” she said, “but I really need to be horizontal right now.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “You live alone here? No one to help with stones? ”

“No, no one to help get stones out of an appliance I’ve never noticed. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She ushered him to the door. “Thank you.”

“Thank agency,” he said and disappeared down the stone spiral staircase.

Ade sank against the closed door, grateful that the contents of her stomach hadn’t reappeared, at least for the duration of his visit.

Raised voices came from the fourth floor, but Ade couldn’t make out what they were saying. She cracked open the door. It was the same guy she’d just let out of her studio.

By the time she’d reached her neighbor’s hallway, he was gone.

“Are you okay?” her neighbor asked. “That guy was a conman.”

“What?” Ade froze. What had just happened?

“He said he was some maintenance man sent by the building manager, but he looked like a rogue. Come in for a minute.” The neighbor ushered Ade inside. “I’m Marcella. Sorry we haven’t met before, but welcome to the building. I wish it was a warmer welcome.”

“Thanks.” Ade willed herself to say more, but the idea of a fraudster inside her apartment freaked her out.

“You look terrible.” Marcella’s kind eyes creased when she smiled. “Would you like a coffee?”

Actually, she’d love Marcella to look elsewhere while her brain melted with anxiety. Ade nodded.

“Did that guy frighten you?”

Ade closed her eyes, pulling down the shutters on the world to work out the chaos in her head. “Sorry, I’m having trouble processing what just happened. So that person wasn’t employed by the realtor? He was just a random guy?”

“It happens. They bluff their way into people’s apartments to see if you have anything worth stealing.” Marcella poured freshly brewed espresso into a tiny cup. “Did he take anything?”

“No.” Ade tracked back over his movements. “He came straight into the bathroom and took some stones out of my air filter. ”

Marcella scoffed. “Yeah, he told me he was visiting all the apartments for the same reason but made a quick exit when I challenged him for some identification.”

“Shit.” Ade’s heart sank. “I didn’t even think to ask for ID.”

“Don’t beat yourself up.” Marcella shrugged. “He probably saw your name on the intercom.”

“My name? You think he targeted me personally?”

“No, no. It’s just you have a foreign name. Fraudsters love international students, because they’re less likely to question what’s happening or have a support network around them.”

Ade hadn’t questioned it, and she didn’t have anyone around. If Steph had been there, she would never have let him inside. Ade had proven, once again, that she could be trusted to misjudge any situation. “What should I do?”

Marcella did that French thing, where she sort of blew her cheeks out as if that would eliminate the problem. “I wouldn’t give it a second thought. I’ve sent him on his way. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, thanks,” Ade said, as if she’d borrowed some sugar, but reeling inside. “I feel a bit sick.”

“You look it. Have you been enjoying the city nightlife a little too much?”

“Something like that. I should trust my instincts to stay home.”

“Enjoy yourself while you can,” said Marcella. “Before you know it, you’ll be paying too many bills and won’t be able to go out partying.”

Ade looked around Marcella’s apartment. It had twice the square footage of her own and even had doors leading off the main room, presumably to multiple bedrooms. Marcella was a real grown up. “Have you lived here a long time?”

“A few years now. It’s a great city.” She nodded out of the balconied window toward the impressive skyline. “Are you here for just a year? People come and go from the apartment upstairs.”

Ade swallowed. Why were they suddenly discussing her circumstances as if nothing had happened? She was freaking out right now. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m a chaperone with a bunch of students from California.”

“Nice. I’ve never been to the US.”

“It’s very different.” Ade gulped down the short espresso and shuffled from one foot to another, wanting to leave without being rude. “I should go.”

“Of course.”

She paused short of the threshold, remembering her manners. What would Steph do? “I appreciate you taking the time to explain things to me. And thank you for the coffee.”

“Anytime.” Marcella squinted. “You have a kind face. Don’t let people take advantage of it.”

“Okay. Bye.” Back in her own studio, Ade flopped onto her creased sheets and pulled the cotton over her head, creating a den of sensory deprivation.

The raging hangover hindered her processing speed, so her brain’s gears were grinding even more than usual.

This is what happened when she was left to her own devices for more than a few days.

Drama sprang up from nowhere when she least expected it.

She couldn’t read the same social cues as other people seemed to, and she got herself into scrapes.

Ade rolled over onto her side and rested her eyes. She didn’t trust her mind or her body to do anything sensible until she’d slept off her hangover. Maybe then she’d pass for an adult capable of running their own life. She could hope.