I Should Die

then.”
    “Actually,” Theo said sternly, crossing his arms, “this morning on the phone, Gaspard told me that Jean-Baptiste won’t allow you to return before then. He says he needs you to be strong, not to come back in an enfeebled state. He asked me to personally guarantee your health, so I’m afraid I have to put my foot down.”
    Bran held up a few menus and announced, “I am intrigued by the menus for”—he peered more closely at them—“Fat Sal’s and Burritoville. And what is this food called . . . bagels?”
     
    Papy, Bran, and I returned to our hotel after dinner, crashing before nine p.m. We were all exhausted from the day’s events. And, in my case at least, jet lag was rearing its ugly head.
    When we arrived at the apartment the next morning, Theo and Vincent were waiting for us. “What took you so long?” Vincent murmured as he nuzzled my neck. “You could have had breakfast here.”
    “I didn’t actually eat,” I said, laughing and then shivering as he brushed my ear with his lips. “Papy and Bran did, but I used the extra half hour to sleep in. I would have come earlier if I knew you were up.”
    He drew back and smiled at me. “I’ve been up all night.”
    “I didn’t mean awake,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I mean up and about . You look totally normal again. How are you feeling?”
    “I feel great. Seriously. I would have been able to go back to Paris today. But Theo insists I stick around another twenty-four hours just in case. And there’s also the fact that I’d love to see a bit of your hometown while we’re here.” He brushed my hair back behind my shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he said.
    “Must be the New York air,” I responded, feeling my cheeks redden.
    “Then, pollution suits you well, ma chérie ,” he replied.
    “Jules offered to walk the city with our kindred today. And Antoine, Bran, and I are off to the museum again,” Theo announced. Turning to Vincent, he asked, “Are you sure you want to go out today? I can give you my extra set of keys if you need to come back to rest.”
    “Thanks, but I might as well go ahead and check into the hotel,” said Vincent, hoisting the Macy’s bag and grabbing my hand as we all walked out into the hallway.
    “Well, you have my number if you need to reach me,” Theo said, locking the door behind him.
    Papy and Bran looked downright gleeful about spending another day in the museum, and I could tell from their conversation that Theo was enjoying the unprecedented opportunity to show the collection to “outsiders.”
    As we stepped out the door, Theo said, “We’ll meet for dinner at the end of the day. See the restaurant on that corner?” He pointed to an Italian restaurant one block down. “How about eight p.m. there? But I want you to go back to the hotel and rest at some point during the day,” he ordered Vincent.
    Vincent took my hand and led me in the opposite direction from the men. “First stop—hotel,” he said. He was bursting with energy, bouncing on his toes and playing with my hair as we walked.
    “So you don’t want to stay out in Brooklyn with Jules and your kindred?” I asked slyly.
    “And be a whole borough away from you?” he said, scrunching his eyebrows with a mock-horrified expression. “Are you trying to kill me all over again?”
    Once at the hotel, Vincent booked a room and then held up the bag of clothes. “I’ll just drop these off and we’ll go somewhere to eat. I feel like an enormous home-cooked meal, like you see in all of the American movies.”
    I laughed. “It’s called comfort food. And I know just the place.”

THIRTY
    A HALF HOUR LATER AND ABOUT SEVENTY BLOCKS south, we sat in one of my favorite old haunts, the Great Jones Café. Vincent was finishing off a plate of Yankee meatloaf smothered in gravy and I had a bowl of Louisiana jambalaya that was spicy enough to make my nose run. Which helped cover up a crying jag that suddenly overtook me, until I choked trying to swallow my food.
    Alerted to my tears, Vincent set down his fork and took my hand. “Kate. It’s over. I’m here now. Violette can’t reach me anymore.”
    “I know,” I said. “But until the second you started breathing, I really didn’t know if I’d see you again. I had hoped, but I didn’t believe . . . if you know what I mean.”
    Vincent’s lips curled into a smile. “I do know. But you had enough hope for both of us. Now stop thinking and eat your mush—or