Honeymoon in Paris by Juliette Sobanet Page A

wear something so racy.
    I’d helped her get dressed without saying a word, but the shame in her eyes had said it all. She loved Marc, her handsome doctor boyfriend, and they’d recently moved into an adorable apartment together in Lyon.
    Fiona wasn’t a cheater. It simply wasn’t part of her character.
    But, as I knew all too well, there are days when we look in the mirror and don’t even recognize ourselves.
    Fiona was clearly having one of those days, and if only I hadn’t dragged her into my honeymoon mess, she never would’ve met Marcel and none of this would have ever happened.
    Back on the Metro train, which barreled away from
la Tour Eiffel
, I squeezed Fiona’s knee, hoping she knew I would never tell a soul what I’d seen this morning. And hoping that she knew how awful I felt about my part in it. Lexi eyed Fiona, then raised a brow at me. I shook my head in response. She nodded in understanding.
    Sometimes girlfriends are telepathic like that.
    Lexi squeezed Fiona’s hand. “With situations like these, it’s best to leave the past in the past. So the two of you missed your train back to Lyon, and our boyfriends and Charlotte’s new husband are going to be pissed at us for a few days. We’ll survive as long as we keep our mouths
shut
about this whole Boucher brother business. When the boys ask why we look like hell this morning, we tell them that we had a little too much to drink, then spent the night in Charlotte’s luxurious honeymoon suite and overslept. That’s all there is too it. Sound good?”
    Deep gray circles swallowed Fiona’s blue eyes as she finally lifted them to the group. “I’m in.”
    “Sounds like a plan,” I said.
    “It’s settled then. This secret stays with—” Lexi stopped when her cell phone buzzed inside her purse. She glanced at the caller ID, but immediately silenced the phone. Red blotches splashed across her cheeks as she lifted her gaze back up to us. “What was I saying again?”
    “The secret?” I prodded.
    “Oh, right. Keep it quiet, ladies. For the sake of all of our relationships.”
    Lexi’s phone buzzed once more, indicating a voice mail. A few seconds later, she practically jumped out of her seat when we reached her stop. “That’s me!”
    I shot her a questioning glance, but she dismissed it, kissed me on the cheek, and dashed out of the Metro, leaving two terribly hungover, memory-challenged friends in her wake.

TEN
    Three hours and one more expensive high-speed train ticket later, the TGV pulled into the Part-Dieu train station in Lyon. Fiona and I grabbed our bags and rambled through the crowds in silence. The pounding of my temples was about all I could handle for the duration of our train ride, but there was something I needed to say to Fiona before we parted ways.
    Just as we rounded a corner and the train station crowds died down a bit, I placed a hand on her arm. “Listen, Fiona, I just wanted to say I’m so sorry for getting you into this mess. If it wasn’t for all of my ridiculous honeymoon drama, this never would’ve—”
    “I’m an adult, Char. You don’t have to take responsibility for this. Just please don’t tell anyone what you saw this morning. Not until I figure out what I’m going to do about it anyway.” Fiona’s mouth quivered, her eyes watering up.
    “Do you remember what happened after we got to Marcel’s apartment?” I asked her.
    Before Fiona could respond, the tabloid featured in the newsstand behind her head caught my eye.
    “Oh, my God,” I whispered, reaching for the magazine.
    On the cover of the trashy French tabloid was a photo montage of my entire day yesterday. Our first encounter with Brigitte and Vincent outside the Château Frontenac Hotel, my private chat with Vincent, me climbing into Nicolas’ fancy sports car, and finally our girls’ night out stumbling into the champagne-studded limo with the Boucher brothers.
    I flipped through the glossy pages to see what other prize moments they’d