Jack had been tracing a raised metal plaque with one finger, but let his hand drop to his side. “I’m—this isn’t the right time for this conversation.” He glanced over his shoulder again, to where Stellan and Elodie were whispering in a pew. “It’s just that—I have to know—is there something going on between you and Stellan?”
My nerves, already frayed, started firing overtime. I had to sit on the edge of the pew behind me. “What?” I said stupidly.
Jack’s face dropped. He thought my reaction meant more than it did. But I was just surprised. And annoyed that he’d ask something like that. No, I didn’t hate Stellan anymore. Yes, things were a little different between us now. But that was all.
Jack turned back to the plaque and rubbed his neck. “I know you and I aren’t together, and I know this is bigger than that, but . . .”
I checked to make sure Elodie and Stellan weren’t listening and lowered my voice. “Then why ask? Because the answer is obviously no, besides the supposed-to-get-married thing. I think you know that.”
“I thought I did.”
The words hit like he’d slapped me. “And what could possibly make you think otherwise?”
Jack glanced toward the front of the church again, then headed out the doors and pulled out the map. “You’ve been closer lately.”
I followed him and leaned over the map without really seeing it. “We’ve all been closer lately.” I sounded so defensive. I took a deep breath and slowed down. “We’ve been living on a boat. And in small apartments. And seeing each other every day. You don’t see me asking if there’s anything going on between you and Elodie.”
“I saw him coming out of the room you were in on the boat last night,” Jack said quietly.
My finger paused on the map. “No, I can guarantee you didn’t.”
“I did. I was wide awake.”
“Then he was probably visiting one of the other two people sleeping in that same room.”
“Lettie and Elodie were out taking a walk,” Jack said. “I think . . . I saw him leave our room. Go to yours. Come back a couple minutes later. He was either hoping for something else, or checking on you.” Jack didn’t sound angry. He just sounded . . . resigned.
“He was probably getting a sleeping pill from Elodie’s bag,” I said. “I was asleep. Whatever you saw was nothing. Less than nothing.”
“You’re probably right,” Jack said.
“Yeah. I am.” I leaned against one of the metal poles lining the sidewalk and held my hand out for the map. Part of me wondered why I was quite so bothered, and all of me really didn’t want to think about it. I yanked the map out of Jack’s hand a little more forcefully than necessary.
“You’re considering it, though,” Jack said quietly. “Considering him, I mean.”
“If the bracelet doesn’t come through, I’ll have to do something. And yeah, Stellan’s a better option than whoever Alistair chooses.” I was running a finger up the map when I suddenly heard the words that had just come out of my mouth. Really? When had I decided that?
“But right now I’m doing my best to figure out this next clue,” I said quickly, “and this is a distraction I don’t need.”
Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just can’t not think about it when I see how he looks at you.”
I glanced back at the church. The heavy wooden doors were still closed, Elodie and Stellan still inside. “He looks at me like I’m a gold-plated statue to put on his mantel. The same way everyone in the Circle looks at me.”
And that was true, usually. Except for last night, when he realized I wasn’t dead. Except this morning, when he apparently wanted nothing to do with me.
Jack touched the back of my hand. “Forget I said anything, okay? It’s just—it’s everything, you know?”
I stared down at our hands. “Yeah.” I was getting tired of it all, too.
I pulled away and traced over the lines I’d made on the map. We’d been sticking inside the triangle formed by the outermost ones, but now I traced a little farther out with two fingers.
“Are we sure these angles are exactly right?” I said, changing the subject.
“No,” Jack said. “This is everything approximately within the gargoyle’s sight line.”
I squinted at the map. “I wonder if the key word is approximately. I’m sure Napoleon was careful about the clues he planted, but maybe when the gargoyle was installed, he got moved a few millimeters. That could change the angle as you get farther away from Notre-Dame.”
“And to Fitz, the Louvre was the best bet, so he planted his clue there—”
“But it doesn’t necessarily mean Napoleon’s was on that same line,” I finished. We leaned over the map excitedly. “Maybe we could go a little outside this triangle.”
“You know what is really close . . .” Jack pointed.
The Arc de Triomphe. “Napoleon put it up, right?” I said.
“He commissioned it. It wasn’t finished before his death, but it was on its way. He would certainly have been able to inscribe anything he wanted there.”