“Tell me, then.” I slid my hand across the table and took hers in mine.

“He was so smart.” Her voice was shaky. “And really confident. I didn’t have his confidence, and I didn’t think I was nearly as smart.” She shook her head. “His name is Robert Byron.”

“Like the poet?” Robert Byron. It was amazing how just knowing his name gave him more substance in my mind.

“Yes. No relation that I know of.” She went on. “His family disapproved of me. I think that made him even more determined that we should date. He never showed me off. Never took me out openly. We went to prom together, but as part of a group, and his date was a friend, or so he said. Looking back, I was just so naпve. If only I’d had some experience.”

“That’s what you want for me?” I asked. “Experience?”

“Yes.” She wiped under her eyes quickly. “Is that so wrong of me? Did something happen with Jake?”

I wanted to tell her, but there was too much liability in sharing. “He and I took a break. My idea.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said in a voice that wasn’t really sorry.

“Did my father try to contact me? Or you?” I asked.

“He was engaged by the time I was eight months pregnant with you. Robert Byron married Marcia Jellet when you were just about six months old.” She looked at me, blinking hard. “I could deal with him rejecting me, Brenna. But no onerejects you.” Her eye had that lovingly maniacal gleam that always takes the angry wind out of my sails.

I couldn’t be mad. Even if Mom had tried to make this all happen, had taken me from Jake and brought me here in the middle of winter break, she didn’t call him and end it. She didn’t push me into Saxon’s arms. She didn’t say or do anything on the level of what I said and did.

In the end, I had to learn that as good as my parents’ intentions might be, I was still the one living my own life. And I had to be big enough to admit my own mistakes.

“Thank you, Mom.” I took a deep, shuddery breath. “I know it sucked to talk about him. I just needed to know some basics. Trust me, I have no desire to meet this guy.”

Mom smiled and picked up her fork again.

We ate and made small talk, and back at the dorm, I felt such a strong pull to call Jake that I almost couldn’t keep my hands off of my phone. But every time I picked up to call, I felt like an ass.

What was I supposed to say? I messed up, Saxon’s more trouble than he’s worth, wanna date again?Any way I spun this, I was the jerk, and Jake had no business being with me.

But complete inactivity wasn’t my thing either, so I went online and stalked him a little. His Facebook picture was just him next to his dirtbike again. I felt my throat close up. What had I expected?

There were no more installments of the “Gone” photo album. That was a little bit of a relief. I deserved to have it thrown in my face, oh I totally deserved it and much worse. But that didn’t mean I wanted to see it.

The next day we toured the Impressionist Museum and hit the Salvador Dali Museum. I stayed far away from Saxon, who tried to corner me and talk to me at every turn. I kept my camera clicking and avoided him as best I could. But things slowed down after that. A week in Paris isn’t remotely enough time to see anything. The day after was New Year’s Eve. Paris was closed down, and so were we. The professors had stocked up on food and drinks and we were planning our own big bash. We would be leaving for America on the second of January. Mom and I cooked all day, napped, and I made a good dent in Crime and Punishment.Nice and depressing.

When it was almost time for the party, I changed into my scarlet silk, even though the last time I had worn it was on Christmas with Jake, and so it felt nostalgic and made me unhappy. I put on my heels and twisted my hair up. Mom and I gathered our food and headed down to the large student lounge. Someone had already turned on the television, and MTV France was broadcasting, with bands and cheering people wearing shiny hats and jumping around, cold and happy.

Last year I had been in Denmark with Mom and Thorsten. I spent most of the night reading a collection of short stories by Karen Blixen, a famous Danish author Thorsten absolutely claimed as a relative. When it got close to midnight, we bundled up, went on to the porch, lit sparklers, and drank champagne. I only had one glass, but Thorsten and Mom finished the bottle and spent the rest of the night dancing, wrapped around each other.

“Why the long face, Blix?” Saxon sidled right next to me, looking so good.

“I just broke up with this really big jerk.” I smiled sadly. “Oh, and I broke up with this really nice guy, too.”

“So, you’re single?” His eyes crinkled with his smile. “You look smoking hot.”

“You, too.” There was music on, over the blare of the television. Frank Sinatra crooned, and Saxon held his hand out.

“Dance with me. Now that you’re a sexy single woman.”

I let him pull me over to him. Saxon, strangely, could dance like Fred Astaire. I was pretty far from Ginger Rogers, but I was on par with a fairly good Dancing with the Starscontestant. Since Saxon led, I could suck up his excellent moves and pretend they were my own.

“You’ve got skills.” I smiled when Saxon dipped me.

“Lylee put me in classes when I was a kid.”

I laughed when I imagined little Saxon ballroom dancing. He twirled me and pulled me back into his arms neatly. “Not bad, Blix. You’re good at following my lead.”

“I’m supposed to. This is ballroom dancing,” I pointed out.

“Don’t make excuses.” He whirled me around dizzily. “You just like following a big strong man.”

“If there was a guy like that around, I might follow him.”

We smiled. I laid my head on his chest as we swayed back and forth. “Talk to Jake recently?”

“No.” That one single word vibrated with emotion.

“Maybe you want to hook back up with me?”

“Saxon, I was able to stand you for two days. That’s it. I don’t think it’s going to work.” I looked at him, and he smiled his wide, cocky smile.

“I don’t really feel like this little experiment helped get you out of my system. Maybe we need to do a little more experimenting?” His voice slipped over my ears.

“I thought about that.” I looked up into his devastatingly handsome face.

“And?” he pressed eagerly.

“And I think we’re never going to get out of each others’ systems. Being attracted to you is like having lead poisoning.”

He pulled me closer. “Your flattery kills me. So you’re blaming me for poisoning you?”

“Exactly. Once you ingest lead, it’s never gone from your system. Remember all those Roman Caesars who went crazy? Lead poisoning. Incurable.” I leaned my head on his shoulder again. My personal poison.

“So I’m in there forever.” He pressed one large, warm hand to my heart.

I moved his hand down to just over my liver. “I think you’re actually here.” Then I raised his hand to my head. “And here. And the damage is permanent.”

“So your crazy will never go away?”

“No thanks to you,” I grumbled.

“So what do we do about it?” He put his nose close to my neck and breathed in deeply.

I didn’t really know the answer to that one. “I think we just stop trying so hard. And keep ourselves open.”

“Are you going to set up rules for us?” Saxon pulled me to him again.

“Nope. Remember, you’re half wild. Rules just make you crazier.”

“So you’re just going to exist in my world and try to resist me at every turn?” His black hair was so shiny I felt like I should be able to see my reflection in it. His black eyes glinted at the new challenge.

“It’s so typical that you would think of it as your world,” I said, but I didn’t feel any particular anger at him. I was just glad that he and I could be in a room and dance without anything crazy happening.

We spent the rest of the night eating, dancing, playing a really funny game of charades, eating some more, and before we knew it, the old year was almost gone. The adults cracked into bottles of champagne and were giddy and red-cheeked. Soon the countdown was on, and we were screaming the numbers, some of us in French, some in English. Then the ball dropped and everyone cheered and screamed and music played. Mom smacked a wet, happy kiss on my lips, then moved on to kiss the cheeks of all of her coworkers. Saxon was right there once she moved away.