“How was your trip?” she asks. “Très bien, merci,” I reply, wincing at the reminder that Jack said strictly no French in the house. Technically, we’re still outside, so hopefully she’ll let that slide on a technicality. Phoenix doesn’t react. “The driver can bring your bags inside, and I can give you a tour.” Bea links her little hand in mine as we follow Phoenix into the building and up the stairs toward the apartment. Once we enter, I find myself immediately looking toward the stairs for a sign of Jack. The apartment is quiet, so I assume he’s not here.
