“This is all your doing, you know. If you hadn’t given me Dr. Talbot’s name, I’d be in Brussels getting patched up with the soldiers.”
“I’m glad you called him. I hope they did a good job. He did on my friend. She’s happy and back at work.” They knew that wasn’t going to happen to Véronique, her modeling days were over, but any improvement was welcome. She told him about running into Stephanie in Paris before Christmas, and he groaned, which was her feeling about it too. “She’s such a gossip and a drama queen, God knows what she’s telling people. I was worried about it at first, but in the end, I figured what the hell. I can’t stop her from talking. And I’m better now.” Her spirits were better. He had noticed it. She seemed more confident, and never wore the surgical mask anymore. She went out with the scars on her face showing, even before her recent surgery.
Doug finished off the champagne while they waited for the ball to drop. They had talked about going to Times Square to see it, but she didn’t want to get jostled in the crowd, and have someone bump her, and it was freezing out so they were happy to watch it on TV. She had stopped at one glass of champagne and was sober. He was slightly drunk, but not too much so. It just made him funny, and not obnoxious. And even when he drank a lot, he was always a happy drunk.
Then finally, it was midnight and the ball dropped with all the fanfare and horn blowing. He kissed her chastely on the mouth, and half an hour later, he got up to go.
“Late night date?” she teased him.
“No, jet lag. If I stay any longer, you’ll have to let me sleep on the couch.” He’d done that before at her apartment, but she agreed that he should go while he was still mobile.
“Thank you for making it a nice New Year’s Eve for me,” she thanked him when he left. He hugged her gently, so he didn’t hurt anything. She seemed so fragile to him now.
“You make it nice for me too,” he said. “One of these days, we’ll meet the loves of our lives, and we won’t be doing this anymore.”
“I can’t imagine that scenario for me now,” she said. “The guy would have to be blind.”
“No. He just has to love you, and be good to you, or I’ll kick his ass.” She had become like a little sister that he wanted to protect from all the evils in the world. She had already run into enough of them for a lifetime. “When you get all this medical shit behind you, you’ll run into the right guy one of these days. At twenty-three, you’re not exactly an old maid yet. I’m not worried about you.” But he hoped that she didn’t let the scars on her face keep her from letting love into her life. It would be terrible if she shut herself away. “We’ll go dancing sometime,” he promised. He knew she loved to dance. She smiled thinking about it, and a few minutes later he left, back out in the freezing cold. She was happy they had stayed home. It had been a warm, cozy evening, and he was a good friend. She couldn’t imagine a man being in her life again. Poor Cyril was a dim memory now, although she still thought of him. She had spent last New Year’s Eve with him at a fabulous black-tie party in Monte Carlo. They had flown down for the night. That all seemed so long ago now. It was part of another life. One she couldn’t imagine having again. The bomb at Zaventem had taken care of that.
Chapter 12
Véronique spent a quiet New Year’s Day reading and watching TV. She had adjusted to her damaged right eye and reduced vision, and she read a great deal. She went for a walk in the park, all bundled up, and called her father when she got home. She offered to visit him, but he admitted that he was tired and not feeling well. He sounded as though his cough had gotten worse.
“How are you feeling since the surgery?” he asked. For someone who had been an absentee father for her entire life, since they had reconnected, he had made himself accessible to her whenever she called. He was concerned about her and all that she was facing. He knew she no longer had her mother to watch over her, so he felt it was his turn now, even at this late date. He owed at least that to Marie-Helene, and knew how she adored their child. Losing her had been hard for Véronique, harder than her scars, and the career she had lost.
“I feel fine. I want to see how it looks. They keep telling me that it won’t be a huge improvement, just a slight one with each surgery, but eventually it won’t look quite as shocking as it does now. It is what it is. It won’t ever go away completely,” nor would the trauma of what she’d been through. She knew that too, and she got anxious whenever she was in crowds. The airports in Paris and New York had been terrifying for her, but she had managed it anyway. She didn’t want it to stop her life, and she was willing to face her demons. The likelihood of anything like it ever happening to her again was beyond remote. She and Dr. Verbier had talked a lot about that. But the memories were still vivid. It had only been nine months since the attack.