Read Online Paris, He Said by Christine Sneed - Free Book Online

week. She was only a year away from university too.”
    The light in the morning was the strongest of the day, flooding in from the northeast-facing rooms until it grew more muted and golden in the early afternoon. Even when the sky was overcast, the pearl-gray and ivory walls still seemed to glow gently. Laurent had hung paintings in every room except the bathroom and the kitchen. “Humidity is very bad if you want your art to last,” he said. “And no serious art should ever be hung near the bathtub or the bidet.”
    “Of course not,” she said. “Only art that isn’t serious, but in those cases, I suppose you can’t really call it art.”
    He laughed. “No, we call it commerce.”
    Even if most of the intricate paintings Laurent favored weren’t unforgettable—the landscapes, the still lifes of laden spring and autumn tables—there were six scrupulously detailed family portraits (the artist’s signature not entirely legible, S. Bau— ), four children and their parents, that hung at eye level in the hallway leading from the bedroom to the salon and her cherished canapé , and they were all as good, better, Jayne thought, than any painting of Pepper’s.
    “We have fairy light in Paris,” said Laurent. “La lumière des fées dans la Ville Lumière.”
    Being here with him really did feel as if she had stepped into a story of enchantment. She had no idea how long it would last, but she tried not to dwell on this. For once in her life, she would live in the elusive present.

    At a farewell dinner at Liesel’s place, Melissa and Liesel had both asked Jayne what she thought Laurent was getting out of the bargain. Presumably, without much trouble, he could find another pretty girlfriend in Paris, another destitute artist. “You’re beautiful, Jayne, and I know he thinks you look like that French actress, Audrey Tattoo or whatever her name is,” said Liesel, “but think about it, he’ll be supporting you over there. You’re sure he won’t change his mind after a few weeks?”
    “Audrey Tautou,” said Jayne. “Not Tattoo.”
    “You really do see a future with him?” asked Melissa. Most of the time Jayne could count on her to be more tactful than Liesel. In college Melissa had gotten a degree in social work but after graduation had veered off to enroll in culinary school. She’d dropped out after five months to take a human resources job at Chase, where Liesel also worked as a tax attorney. Melissa had once confessed after three large glasses of wine that she’d only slept with two men besides her husband. Liesel had offered her condolences, but Jayne had told Melissa that she shouldn’t regret it. If Joe, her husband, was good in bed, she wasn’t missing anything. “He is good in bed,” said Melissa, momentarily grave. Then she shrieked with laughter. “On my birthday.”
    “I do see a future with Laurent,” Jayne said now. She knew her friends meant well, but she felt as if she were under interrogation. “We’re a real couple, if that’s what you’re asking. As far as I can tell, neither of us is biding our time until someone better comes along.”
    Shorty, Liesel’s cat, a fat black male with white-stockinged legs, loped into the kitchen and began meowing imperiously. They’d already opened a second bottle of wine and were eating carryout spaghetti puttanesca—Liesel had made lemon pasta but added too much salt to the sauce and had to order in Italian. The cat tried to jump onto Melissa’s lap, but Liesel shooed him away by threatening him with a spray bottle filled with water.
    “You’re so mean,” cried Melissa. “The poor cat probably has nightmares about that bottle.”
    “He can handle it,” Liesel said flatly. “Otherwise he’d think he’s the boss. I got up one morning and found him in my handbag, trying to open my wallet.”
    “You probably left a doggie bag in there overnight,” said Melissa, snorting. “You’re still mean.”
    Jayne looked down at Shorty, who