Celine holds her breath, waiting for the pain that never comes. She grins up at George. Then she continues “Ma joie, mon trésor, mon roi.” ‘My joy, my treasure, my king.’ He lifts her up into his arms. And holds her tightly, she squeaks, “Ma côte” ‘My rib’ He adjusts his grip and smiles up at her. He walks them out to the lounge and sits with her still in his arms. He remains quiet, but snuggles into her neck as they sit. Fi is nursing a glass of whisky, still pale,
“Envie de partager avec la classe?” ‘Care to share with the class?’ Celine smiles at Fi, who nearly drops the glass. Sammy grins at her, and Nate whoops. Maggie and her mother looked a little confused, but Celine slips back into English, “I asked if she was going to share.” Maggie laughs, and Nate is already going to get glass
