Be Brave With Me

Chapter Thirty-One

"Hello and welcome to the Grand Prix de Monaco. On less than a square mile of prime coastal real estate, everyone who counts on this earth is rubbing shoulders today. You can't take one step without running into someone famous, folks!"

"That's right, Tom. Look, over there! Isn't that Elizabeth Carmichael floating into the Hôtel de Paris? And her husband Nicholas following in her steps! Look, he's the one in the suit and sunglasses, smoothie in hand!"

***

Aurelia spotted them as soon as they stepped through the wide doors.

The famous Elizabeth and Nicholas Carmichael. Zeus and Hera of Hollywood. Her parents.

True to their profession, they took off their sunglasses in what looked like slow motion and turned their heads to take in the scene. Aurelia sat perched on one of the damask ottomans in the grand, golden entrance hall of this hotel that whispered of secret rendezvous between the rich and clandestine hideaways of the famous.

They both glanced - once, twice, three times - past her. They noticed how every single person in the lobby was gaping at them in open adoration - but they did not notice her. How very fitting?

Aurelia stood up straight to draw their attention. She had come out of hiding to meet them, hadn't she?

She was done hiding. Full stop.

"I'm over here," she called out.

Elizabeth floated in her direction, Nicholas sauntered behind.

Aurelia leaned forward to accept her mother's air kisses which landed more than a feet to the right and left of her cheeks. Elizabeth sank down on the ottoman opposite of the historic coffee table that stood between them. Nicholas' cheek itched against Aurelia's skin as he gave her an one-armed hug.

He smelled very expensive - and very foreign.

Nicholas settled down next to his wife and motioned for the waiter with a flick of two fingers. He handed him his untouched smoothie and ordered an Irish coffee for him and a mimosa for his wife.

Elizabeth's gaze wandered over her outfit. A pair of loose, ripped jeans and an old college sweater of Theo's that she found this morning among the few clothes he had left behind in his cabin. She had slipped into it in a heartbeat, basking in his scent that had wrapped around her like his strong arms used to. It had kept away the chill of the early hour. It had soothed the acidic dread that had been pooling in her stomach even before the sun had come up on the day she had waited for all her life. Her armor of courage, materialized in soft, worn cotton and a Cornell Lacrosse print.

Aurelia wrapped her hands around her own warm cup of tea. Under Elizabeth's gaze, the chill of this morning crawled back into her bones. Her armor couldn't keep it out.

When the waiter left them alone again, silence descended. She wouldn't be the one to break it. She had tried to do so for twenty-four years. It was her parents' turn now. They had asked to see her, after all?

If they wanted to apologize for how they had disregarded her in Cannes, they would have to be the ones to speak up first.

Until then, she'd sit here and take in her surroundings. The old paintings, the golden chandeliers, the monumental flower display in the center of the hall, the invaluable furniture. The grandness of it all reminded her of The Harrington. Of all the afternoons she had sat waiting in its lobby, waiting to be picked up by one nanny or another after an afternoon of fun with Theo - hoping for a miracle, hoping her parents would walk through the grand doors instead.