“You have to let it go.” Fleur’s gaze flew to me. “I know you’re upset, I know you miss him, but you have to move on.” Hurt flashed across Fleur’s face. I flinched. I firmly hated any kind of confrontation. “Look, you’re gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. There are a ton of guys who would give their right arm to date you. There are a ton of hot guys in London. Find one of those guys. Like one of those guys. Date one of those guys. Forget about Costa. He can’t be worth how upset you’re making yourself.”
Fleur’s eyes flared. “You don’t get it. It isn’t just about Costa.” She gestured toward the table. “Those were my friends, too. All of those people sitting with him and his new girlfriend were my friends. And when we broke up they dropped me like I didn’t even exist. Sophia and I used to be best friends.” My gaze traveled to a pretty girl with dark hair talking with Natasha. “Now she won’t even acknowledge me in the halls.”
“You’re better off, then,” Mya interjected. “What kind of a friend does that? Drops someone because they broke up with their boyfriend?”
“Seriously. They’re not worth it. And you have new friends now.”
“I know. It just pisses me off to see them throwing their new relationship in my face. He acts like we were never anything to each other. Like everything between us meant nothing.”
“If you ask me, someone needs to take that ass down a peg or two,” Mya interjected.
“Agreed.”
“It would just be so much easier if I didn’t have to see them together every day…”
Mya grinned. “I have the perfect solution to that.”
We both turned to her.
“We should go somewhere for fall break.”
Fleur grinned. “That’s a fabulous idea.”
I hesitated. My budget would probably be exhausted after five minutes of traveling with them. Hell, I could barely afford to be in London as it was. Traveling anywhere else seemed unlikely.
“We could go to Italy,” Mya suggested. “Rome or Venice.”
“Venice. Definitely Venice,” Fleur decided. “I haven’t been since I was a kid.”
They both turned to me. “What do you say? Venice for fall break?”
It was way too tempting. And definitely way too ambitious for me. “I can’t go to Venice.”
Fleur frowned. “Why?”
“Honestly? I can’t afford it.” It was a humiliating thing to admit, but I didn’t see a point in lying. There was no way I could keep up with them. Mya’s dad was an ambassador and Fleur mentioned something about her dad owning a company in France. I was pretty sure neither one of them was here on scholarship.
Fleur waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. I can’t really avoid worrying about it. There’s no way I can afford to go to Italy.” I played with my fork. “I’m sorry, guys, I really want to go, but I just don’t see how I can make it happen.”
“You’re going,” Fleur announced. “Don’t worry about the money—Mya and I are getting a hotel room in Venice and we want you to stay with us. We can get a cheap flight to Europe for under fifty pounds and food and everything will sort itself out—”
“I can’t travel off of your charity. I appreciate it, but I would feel so weird about the whole thing.”
Mya nodded. “I can see how it would make you feel awkward, but it’s not a big deal.”
“It would be a big deal to me.”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “You’re my friend. Stop being so difficult. My ex-boyfriend, the former love of my life, is tarting it up around school with a girl whose claim to fame is that she once hooked up with Samir.”
My gaze flew back to Natasha. Bitch.
“I’m dying here. If you don’t come to Italy with me for moral support, you’re a shit friend.”
I shot her a look. “Nice guilt trip, Fleur.”
Mya grinned. “Guilt trips are Fleur’s specialty. It’s a French thing. Besides, she always gets her way. Why bother arguing with her? You’re coming.”
And that’s how I ended up with a trip to Venice.
Chapter 18
Our flight arrived in the late afternoon, the sun just setting over Venice. I peered out the window, my face pressed against the glass. The landscape was stunning—a network of waterways and canals and light shimmering off the water like tiny diamonds.
“I needed this.”
Fleur grinned from the seat next to me, lifting the monogrammed silk sleep mask covering her eyes. “I told you. This is going to be the most fabulous break ever.”
“Are we going out tonight?” Mya asked from the other side of Fleur.
I grinned. “Hot Italian guys? How are we not?” This trip was my chance to get Fleur laid or at least find her another guy. Costa had to go.
When the plane landed, we grabbed our bags and cleared customs. Fleur had called ahead and reserved a private water taxi to take us to the Hotel Danieli. We made our way out of the airport, our bags trailing behind us. Fleur walked in front, scanning the rows of boats. A short, dark-haired man stood on the dock, waving a small white sign.
“Marceaux?”
Fleur nodded, gesturing for us to follow her.
The driver—boat captain—took our bags, setting them in the back of the boat. Fleur, Mya and I sat on a bench, covered by a crisp white awning. The driver turned around to face us, a rush of Italian flowing from his mouth.
I stared at him blankly. “Er, do you guys speak Italian?”
Fleur waved her hand airily. “Enough to get by.”
“Okay, what is he saying?”
She paused. “I’m not exactly sure. Something about a hotel?”
Mya groaned. “Try speaking French. Maybe he knows that.”
Somehow between Fleur’s French and the driver’s Italian we got to our hotel. I spent the ride staring at the scenery as Venice passed us by. Everywhere I looked there were domed roofs and exotic architecture. Opera played from the boat speakers, adding to the already surreal quality of the setting.
I felt like I was in a movie.
Mya nudged me. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
I nodded, words failing me. The boat stopped in front of a large building that vaguely resembled a palace. There weren’t words for this moment, nothing I could use to do justice to the beauty surrounding me. It was like I’d traveled back in time, to a world I’d only ever read about.
“Hotel Danieli,” the driver announced.
I gaped at the building. It was everything Mya and Fleur had promised and more.
The driver unloaded our bags, handing them off to a hotel porter. Women dressed in fur coats and men in suits walked around outside the hotel. I tugged self-consciously at the belt on my own gray coat. No matter how elegant I felt, I was beginning to realize I would always lack the requisite thousand-dollar designer bag or Manolo Blahniks to really fit in. Still, just being here, in the face of so much beauty and history, was enough.
The lobby was all marble and gold and sculpted archways. It was impossible to not feel like a princess. “Are we seriously staying here?”
“My father only stays at the Danieli when he’s in Venice. It’s the best hotel in town.”
“I’m afraid to touch anything,” I hissed to Mya.
She laughed. “Yeah, Fleur’s standards are a bit higher than mine.”
“Who doesn’t Fleur have higher standards than?” I asked wryly.
Thankfully the guy at the front desk spoke better English than our water taxi driver and we checked in with ease. Fleur booked us a suite to share. We had a perfect view of the city.
Fleur grinned. “Was this a fabulous idea or was this a fabulous idea?”
“It was a fabulous idea,” I conceded. “So what’s on the agenda for the night?”
Fleur shrugged. “Dinner somewhere. I’m sure the concierge can recommend something. Then we hit up this fabulous club Samir told me about.”
That sounded expensive.
Mya shook her head, a
lready sensing my argument. “Just go with it. This is Fleur’s show. We’re all just living it.”
* * *
The next day we set out exploring Venice. We were only there for two nights and not even three full days so I wanted to make the most of it. Mya and Fleur had already been to Venice and done most of the touristy stuff, but they were nice enough to show me around. We went to St. Mark’s Square, took a gondola ride on the Grand Canal and ate the best pizza I’d ever had in my life.
We walked everywhere.
That evening we went back to change, throwing on our best clothes to go out again. We went to dinner at a little restaurant the concierge recommended, dining on a feast of pasta and chicken, gorging ourselves on bread and wine. I had already felt stuffed in Fleur’s borrowed cocktail dress. Dinner merely intensified the effect.
“Let’s walk,” I suggested, wincing as we rose from the table. “I definitely need the exercise after a meal like that.”
“Good call. I haven’t worked out with my trainer in two days.”
I pulled a face at Mya. She giggled. Even at a school as extravagant as the International School, Fleur was the only student I knew who actually had their own personal trainer. Unfortunately she was also in way too good of shape for me. Between the high heels and my short legs, I struggled to keep up as she led us through the streets of Venice.
“Exactly how far away is this place?” I huffed. At least Mya didn’t appear to be enjoying the walk anymore than I was. Although she did have a height advantage.
“Probably just a mile or two away.” Fleur waved her hand vaguely. “It can’t be too much farther.”
“A mile or two? You said it was close! There’s no way I can walk another mile or two in these heels.” I glanced down at my watch. “We’ve already been walking for fifteen minutes.”
“We should have just called a cab,” Mya complained.
Fleur glared at us. “Stop bitching. It’s not that much farther. A little exercise never killed anyone.”
The farther we walked, the more the area changed from restaurants and shops to dark alleyways that looked more residential than anything else. Our surroundings were also starting to look less and less like the glitz of St. Mark’s Square and more and more like…well…whatever the Italian word for seedy was.
Mya stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing. “We’re lost.”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “We’re not lost.”
“We’re definitely lost.” I spotted a woman walking across the street. “Look, why don’t you go ask her for directions?”
“Or look at the map?” Mya suggested, obviously annoyed.
“I don’t need a map. I’ve been to Venice before. I know my way around.”
“Obviously not,” Mya snapped.
Surprise filled me. Mya never lost her temper like this. “Enough. Fleur, just go talk to that lady before she gets away. I’m sure she can help us out.”
“Fine.” Fleur walked away with a huff, crossing the street.
Mya and I watched as she spoke to the woman.
Mya sighed, turning to me. “Sorry to freak out like that.”
“I’m just as freaked out as you are.”
“This isn’t the greatest neighborhood.”
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
Fleur sauntered back over to us.
“Well, what did she say?” I asked.
“She didn’t speak English or French.”
“Why didn’t you speak to her in Italian?” Mya pointed out, annoyance creeping into her tone.
“I tried, but it wasn’t really enough to work things out.”
“I thought you said you could speak Italian.”
Fleur shrugged. “No, I said I studied in Italy for a semester in high school. That doesn’t mean I learned any.”
I rolled my eyes.
Fleur fisted her hands on her hips. “Besides, we wouldn’t be lost if you had actually read the map properly.”
She was definitely not blaming me for this one. “I told you I have a terrible sense of direction.”
“Obviously,” Fleur snapped.
“Okay. Stop it,” Mya interjected. “This isn’t helping. You both suck at directions. Give me the map.”
I handed it over without any hesitation. It might as well have been Greek for all I understood it. I looked up at the street signs, trying to figure out where the hell we were. Our surroundings looked residential. How far had we wandered off the main road?
“We’ve been going in circles.” Fleur pulled out her cell phone, stamping her Manolos. “It’s one in the morning. We’re missing out on the party. We’re lost in the middle of Venice. I’m calling for help.”
“Who are you going to call?”
“The hotel. Someone. Anyone.” Fleur waved her hand impatiently. “I’m not staying around here in this hovel, waiting to end up dead on the streets.”
I rolled my eyes. “Drama queen.”
“Will you both shut up?” Mya waved the map in the air. “I figured it out. We were on the right path, we just took a wrong turn back there by the McDonald’s. If we can get back there, we can retrace our steps.”
“I’m not walking another step,” Fleur snapped. “I’m wearing my favorite Manolos. These streets are cobblestone. Not happening.”
I glared at her. “Will you stop bitching? You’re not helping.”
Amazingly enough, that quieted her down.
Mya studied the map. She turned in the direction opposite the one we had come from.
“I think if we go down that street, we’ll be fine. If we just keep walking the street should intersect with the one we need.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Lead the way.”
Chapter 19
By the time we reached the bar, we were each in varying stages of pissed off.
Fleur stomped in ahead of us.
“She’s in a mood tonight,” Mya whispered. “Trust me, when she gets like this it’s best to just give her some space.”
Fleur made a beeline for the bar, leaving the two of us in her wake.
“It doesn’t seem like she’s really interested in hanging out with us, anyways.”
“She’ll get over it. She gets really flustered when things don’t go her way. Like the situation with Costa. And getting lost tonight.”
“I wish she would get over Costa. I thought coming here, taking a break from everything at school would help her out. Instead it seems like she’s just as distracted and upset as she was before.”
Mya shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not going to spend our whole night in Italy dealing with Fleur’s bitchy mood.”
I couldn’t help but agree with her.
We headed toward an empty table. Mya flagged down a waiter. I scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of Fleur. She stood at the bar, her back toward us, talking to a tall, dark-haired guy. I couldn’t make out his face.
“Figures,” Mya muttered. “Trust Fleur to find someone.”
I was surprised by the anger in her voice. “Is everything okay? You seem a little on edge lately.”
“Sorry.”
I shook my head. “Please. You don’t have to be sorry. I’m worried about you.”
Mya’s lips pursed in a bitter line. “I’m afraid the situation is beyond help.”
“It might help to talk about it.”
The waiter brought our drinks over, silence yawning between us.
“My dad’s been having an affair.”
My jaw dropped.
“I don’t know how long it has been going on or who she is, but I saw them together outside the Ritz a few weeks ago. After that I started following him. Turns out every Tuesday afternoon he leaves work and they meet at a different hotel in London.”
“I’m so sorry. Are you sure—I mean, is there a chance that maybe it’s something else entirely?”
Mya laughed bitterly. “Yeah, not so much. I saw them kissing. And not a friendly European-style kiss. He had his arms around her.” She too
k another sip of her drink. “The girl looked like she was only a few years older than me.”
Yuck.
“Do you think your mom knows?”
I’d met Mya’s mom a few times and it was hard to imagine anyone cheating on her. She looked just like Mya—the same flawless coffee-colored skin, long, slim legs, perfect straight, dark hair.
Mya shook her head.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know.” Mya gulped down the rest of her champagne. “I thought about it. She deserves to know. But I just can’t imagine saying the words.” Her expression was grim. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m not mad at you. I didn’t tell you what was going on—there’s no way you would have known.” She sighed. “I’m not really mad at Fleur either. Things have just been tough lately. The situation just sucks. I can’t imagine having divorced parents.”
“Well, if you have any questions on the single-parent thing, I can definitely answer them.”
“How bad is it?”
“It sucks,” I admitted.
“You never talk about your family. What’s the deal with that?”
I didn’t even know where to begin. Even though Mya was going through shit with her family now, she at least had a family. She had two parents who loved her. She would never know what it felt like to not be loved by the people who were supposed to love you the most.
“There’s not really much to tell. My dad’s gone a lot with work, so I live with my grandparents.”
“And your mom?”
Couldn’t even be bothered to send a birthday card or check in on her daughter. For all I knew, she had a new family now.
“I have no idea where she is. She left when I was practically a baby. I don’t remember her or anything. And it’s not like she keeps in touch.”
“That had to have been rough.”
I’d never told anyone how I felt about my mom. My dad certainly didn’t talk about her. I didn’t even know how to explain it—
I felt abandoned. Completely abandoned.
I See London 1 Page 11
