Véronique had suspected what he was up to when he mentioned the girl at dinner. She smiled as she let herself into her apartment. She was sure the twenty-one-year-old model would keep him happy for a night, and tomorrow there would be another one. That wasn’t what she wanted with him. He was much better as a friend, and she intended to keep it that way.
* * *
—
In the morning, over breakfast, she decided to go to New York and meet her father. He and Doug were both right. The future was unreliable at best, and she wanted to meet him before anything happened to him.
She called and made a reservation for after Fashion Week would be over. She did not want to run into anyone she knew on the plane, and she wanted to see Doug while he was in town. She enjoyed his company and she never knew when he’d be back in town. His schedule was crazy and changed constantly when he got new assignments. She was always happy to spend time with him, and seeing her father could wait another week, although she was eager to visit him now that he had made contact, and wanted to meet her.
Véronique booked a flight to New York for two days after Fashion Week ended. That way she knew that almost all the New Yorkers would have gone home. The buyers and fashion editors who attended the shows rarely lingered in Paris. They usually rushed back to work in New York, so she assumed that the coast would be clear by then. Doug had finished his photo shoots too. He offered to go to the airport with her. He didn’t say it, but he was worried that going to an airport might be traumatic for her. It would be the first flight she’d taken since the attack. She was grateful for his offer of help.
She hired a car and driver to take her, and Doug told her to stay in the car while he checked her bag in at the curb, and she watched from the car. Normally she’d have to do it herself, but he explained the circumstances to the baggage man, and pointed to her, and handed him her passport, and he nodded and took care of it.
“Does she need a wheelchair?” he asked sympathetically, and Doug shook his head.
“She can walk,” he said softly, and Véronique questioned him when he got back in the car.
“What was that all about? What was he asking you?”
“He wanted to know if you had dope in your bag. I told him I smoked it all.” He grinned at her and she laughed, and then looked serious as she glanced around at porters and passengers and ground crew rushing around the airport. It was all too familiar to her.
“I didn’t think it would be so hard to be here. I keep thinking back to…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but he knew. He could tell from the expression on her face. She looked terrified just sitting there.
“You should have flown with me,” he said calmly, sitting next to her. But he was staying a few days longer to see friends, and he had a date with a stylist he’d met on a shoot. She was a beautiful Chinese woman who lived in London. Doug was a magnet for attractive women.
She stayed in the car for as long as she dared, and then he handed her her boarding pass with her luggage stub, and walked her inside as far as security. He wished she had gotten some kind of VIP treatment, but she hadn’t asked for it, and didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself. She had looped the surgical mask over her ears before she got out of the car, and he noticed several other people wearing them, particularly Asians, who were more germ conscious than most Europeans.
“You look a little neurotic,” he teased her about the mask, and he saw that her eyes weren’t smiling. She was deadly serious as she clutched her passport in her hand, and he could see that she was shaking.
“The alternative is worse,” she reminded him. She hadn’t worn the mask in Paris in several days, and was braver about going out without it now, thanks to him, but in close quarters on the flight, she didn’t want people staring at her. She’d been both lucky and careful during Fashion Week, and stayed in her neighborhood and at home most of the time, so she didn’t run into anyone she knew. A few people had mentioned her to Doug, and wondered where she had disappeared to. One British girl had seen the tabloid piece months ago, but most people didn’t seem to know what had happened, and Doug just said he thought she was away for a few months. He knew Véronique didn’t want him telling people she’d been a victim of the Brussels attack, if they didn’t already know. Stephanie wasn’t talking either, hoping she’d come back.
“Be good, and have a nice trip,” he said when he hugged her, and kissed her on her good cheek. “Don’t misbehave in New York. Say hi to your father for me.” He grinned, and watched her thread her way into the security line. She gave a last wave, and he walked outside. She had left the car for him, to go back to Paris. She really tore at his heart these days. She was being so brave, and so determined to recover, and he knew how hard it was. He didn’t think he’d have weathered it as well. He wanted to do whatever he could to help her. He had given her the name of a plastic surgeon in New York one night at dinner. A model he knew had been mugged the year before, savagely beaten and stabbed. There had been a lot of damage to her face, and she looked remarkable now. He had called her to ask the name of her doctor. She said he was a miracle worker, and he’d given Véronique the name to consult him about her next surgeries. She was hesitant and said she trusted the surgeons in Brussels, but Doug had encouraged her and said it never hurt to get a second opinion. He hoped she had taken the number with her. She had never mentioned it again. She didn’t like talking about medical issues with him. She was determined to learn to live with her altered face, rather than comb the world looking for surgeons who made empty promises and couldn’t do anything about it anyway.