I woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows and the smell of fresh coffee drifting from the kitchen.
For a moment I just lay there, listening to the sounds of Paris outside. Church bells. Distant traffic. Someone laughing on the street below. Normal sounds. Peaceful sounds.
I got up and walked to the kitchen. Vincent was already dressed, reading his newspaper with an espresso cup beside him.
"Morning," he said without looking up. "Coffee's ready. Croissants are from the bakery down the street. Still warm."
I poured myself a cup and grabbed a croissant. "What are we doing today?"
"We aren't doing anything." Vincent folded his newspaper and looked at me. "You are. I have meetings all day. Business calls I've been putting off. You have Paris to yourself until dinner."
My stomach
