Read Geronimo (A Songbird Novel) for Free Online

kissing her fingers and touching the screen. “Well, you two enjoy Paris, then.”
    “We will,” I choked out, clicking off my iPad as soon as she hung up. Dropping it on my lap, I gazed out the window and rubbed the spot above my heart. “So, what do you think, Blake? You liking Paris so far?”
    He didn’t answer.
    I was sane enough to know I’d only ever sense his presence, never hear it, feel it brush against my skin, or hold me close at night.
    Blake may have been in Paris with me, but not in the same capacity as Harry, and it made me slide the iPad off my lap and scurry down to breakfast.
     
    *****
     
    The glass-roofed sunroom was at the back of the hotel, looking out over a well-kept lawn no bigger than my classroom. Harry was sitting by the open doors, reading a paper and sipping from a delicate teacup. A croissant was on the plate in front of him, but he’d yet to touch it.
    By the pale tone of his skin and the state of his mussed-up curls, I was guessing he felt as much like dining as I did.
    Gliding around the tables, I tucked my summer dress beneath my legs and sat in the cane chair opposite him.
    “ Bonjour .” I tried out what little French I could remember. “ Comment allez-vous ?”
    His upper lip curled and he grunted. “ Je me suis senti mieux .”
    My nose wrinkled as I tried to interpret. “I am…? Oh, I don’t know.”
    He smiled, giving me a glimpse of his slightly crooked front teeth. “I’ve been better.”
    “Hmm.” I tipped my head with a mock smile. “What on earth could be ailing you?”
    “Ha-ha,” he muttered drily, taking another sip of his tea while I laughed then held my stomach and groaned.
    He snickered and lifted his finger at the waitress.
    As soon as the woman appeared, he pointed at me and she turned with a smile. “ Qu'est-ce que vous désirez, madame ?”
    “ Ah, parlez-vous anglais ?” I winced and gave her a chagrined smile.
    She grinned. “Of course, madam. What would you like?”
    Her accent was beautiful. “Thank you. Um, could I please just have some tea? Plain, black, weak tea and a slice of toast.”
    “Whole wheat?” She took the spare menu off the small round table and tucked it under her arm.
    “Yes, please.”
    With an elegant nod, she walked away from the table, and I leaned back with a contended sigh.
    “Not bad, Buford. They always like it when you at least try to speak their language.”
    “She was very nice about it.”
    Folding his paper shut, he placed it on the table and looked at me. “So, dear Jane, what are we doing today?”
    “Well, I thought we could check out the Latin Quarter and then I don’t know. Should we do the Eiffel Tower and all the touristy spots?”
    He grimaced and shook his head. “Give us a geezer at that list of yours.”
    I pulled it from my pocket and handed it over.
    He gently unfolded it and scanned the contents, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You haven’t added eat the most indulgent meal known to mankind .”
    I laughed. “Well, we’ve already done that.”
    “Exactly.” He handed the paper back and tapped the empty space at the bottom of the page. “You must add it then cross it off.”
    My heart melted for a moment. He had no idea, and I wasn’t sure if I would ever be brave enough to admit it, but I did that kind of thing all the time. When I was working at school, if I did a task that wasn’t on my list, I’d always scribble it down and then run a line through it.
    Pulling the pen from my handbag, I wrote his words exactly, then crossed it off with a flourish.
    “Now doesn’t that feel good?”
    All I could do was give him a dopey grin.
    He took the sheet back, looked it over, and then glanced at his watch. “With only thirteen days to go, I say we leave Paris tomorrow and head south.”
    “South. What’s south?”
    He gave me a pitiful look. “You honestly don’t know? Aren’t you a schoolteacher? Surely you know the geography of this continent.”
    “Um…” I winced, my