“Are you okay?” He sounded worried then. She sounded as though she meant it.
“I’m getting there. I just got home this week. I’ve been gone for six months. And I lost my mother. We just buried her today.”
“Oh Christ, I’m sorry. That’s rough. Should I call back tomorrow?”
“No, it’s okay. She died six months ago. We waited to bury her till I got back.”
“Where’ve you been for six months? Please don’t tell me you’re becoming a nun. I have a sister who’s a nun, and one of the best models in New York entered a Carmelite order last year. It would be a terrible waste if you do that too. Besides, it would dash my hopes and evil intentions forever. Even I can’t hit on a nun.” She laughed. “So where the hell have you been?”
“In a hospital in Brussels.”
“A mental hospital? At least that would explain the decision.”
“No, I’m still sane. A military hospital.”
“A military hospital? For God’s sake, what’s going on with you? Did you enlist?”
“I was at the Brussels airport, wrong day, wrong time last March.”
“What were you doing there?” And then suddenly it hit him. He sounded shocked when he asked her. “Please God, don’t tell me you were there during the terrorist attack.” His voice was hushed when he asked her the question.
“Unfortunately, yes, I was. It’s been a long haul. I just got out of the hospital. My mother was with me, and a friend. They both died when the first bomb exploded a few feet away from us.”
“Oh my God, Véro, how bloody awful. I’m sorry about your mother. Are you okay? You didn’t lose anything vital? I had no idea you were there.”
“It was two weeks after Fashion Week. You’d already left, I guess. I’m okay. I’m full of shrapnel, but they say you can live with that, as long as nothing shifts. I had twenty-six surgeries. And all the moving parts still work and are still attached. A lot of people there weren’t as lucky.”
“Thank God, you’re all right. Is that why you’re not walking next week?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “And I won’t be anymore.”
“I don’t blame you, after something like that. It must shift your perspective about what’s important in life. When can I see you? Are you free for dinner tomorrow night, or is that little British lord still following you around like a puppy?” She was quiet for a second before she answered.
“He died in Brussels. He was with me.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry. He was a sweet kid.” Doug was thirty-nine, and Cyril had seemed like a child compared to him. “What about dinner tomorrow?”
“I can’t do dinner.” She couldn’t eat with her surgical mask on, and she had no intention of showing him the right side of her face, or even telling him that part of the story. “Do you want to come to my place for a drink? I moved into my mother’s apartment.”
“Sure. Why not? I just want to see that you’re okay after all that.” She wasn’t, but she was feeling a little better and it would be nice to see him. “Six o’clock?”
“That’s fine.” She gave him the address, and he was shaken when he hung up. What if she had died in Brussels too? He had read about the attack, and it was brutal. It made him realize as he often did how quickly life could change, in an instant. And clearly, she had thought that too. He wondered if she’d go back to modeling, or if she was finished for good. Everyone got burnt out eventually. It was an ephemeral, narcissistic business, and she had more substance than that. But she was also one of the great beauties, and he hated to see her give it up so soon. He couldn’t wait to see her now. They had much to celebrate. She was alive. He was grateful that by some miracle she had been spared and survived the attack. You just never knew in life what would happen next. He had lived every day as though it were his last for years, and now she had learned that lesson too.
Chapter 7
Doug looked the way he always did when he showed up at Véronique’s apartment. His unruly black hair seemed as though it hadn’t seen a brush in a week, and he had a five-day growth of beard stubble on his face, which was the standard style for fashion photographers, and most men in the business. He was tall and thin, with lines around his eyes. He held her tightly in his arms when he hugged her, grateful that she was alive. She was wearing the surgical mask and he frowned when he saw it.