“Har. Bloody. Har.”

“Har. Bloody. Har."He smiles. "Oh, I see. Known me less than a day and teasing me about my accent. What's next? Care to discuss the state of my hair? My height? My trousers?"Trousers. Honestly.”

“Where in the bloody hell did that come from?" asks the other person behind the counter. Or more precisely, on top of the counter, where her ridiculously attractive, English-accented boyfriend is perched.He's the other thing I like about Anna. Wherever she goes, he follows.He nods toward the baby wipe. "What else are you carrying in your pockets? Dust rags? Furniture polish?""Watch it," she says. "Or I'll scrub your arms, Étienne."He grins. "As long as you do it in private.”

“Emily Zola.That's only the second woman I've seen down here. What's up with that?"But before St. Clair can answer, the grating voice says, "It's Emile." We turn around to find a smug guy in a Euro Disney sweatshirt. "Emile Zola is a man."My face burns. I reach for St. Clair's arm to pull us away again,but St. Clair is already in his face. "Emile Zola was a man," he corrects. "And you're an arse. Why don't you mind your own bloody business and leave her alone!”

“To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: HAPPY CHRISTMASHave you gotten used to the time difference? Bloody hell,I can't sleep. I'd call,but I don't know if you're awake or doing the family thing or what. The bay fog is so thick that I can't see out my window.But if I could, I am quite certain I'd discover that I'm the only person alive in San Francisco.To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: I forgot to tell you.Yesterday I saw a guy wearing an Atlanta Film Festival shirt at the hospital.I asked if he knew you,but he didn't.I also met an enormous,hair man in a cheeky Mrs. Claus getup. he was handing out gifts to the cancer patients.Mum took the attached picture. Do I always look so startled?To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: Are you awake yet?Wake up.Wake up wake up wake up.To: Etienne St. Clair From: Anna Oliphant Subject: re: Are you awake yet?I'm awake! Seany started jumping on my bed,like,three hours ago. We've been opening presents and eating sugar cookies for breakfast. Dad gave me a gold ring shaped like a heart. "For Daddy's sweetheart," he said. As if I'm the type of girl who'd wear a heart-shaped ring. FROM HER FATHER. He gave Seany tons of Star Wars stuff and a rock polishing kit,and I'd much rather have those.I can't beleive Mom invited him here for Christmas. She says it's because their divorce is amicable (um,no) and Seany and I need a father figure in our lives,but all they ever do is fight.This morning it was about my hair.Dad wants me to dye it back, because he thinks I look like a "common prostitute," and Mom wants to re-bleach it.Like either of them has a say. Oops,gotta run.My grandparents just arrived,and Granddad is bellowing for his bonnie lass.That would be me.P.S. Love the picture.Mrs. Claus is totally checking out your butt. And it's Merry Christmas, weirdo.To: Anna Oliphant From: Etienne St. Clair Subject: HAHAHA@Was it a PROMISE RING? Did your father give you a PROMISE RING?To: Etienne St. Clair From: Anna Oliphant Subject: Re: HAHAHA!I am so not responding to that.”

“Is that...the Looney Tunes theme?"Mer and St. Clair cock their ears."Why,yes.I believe it is," St. Clair says."I heard 'Love Shack' a few minutes ago," Mer says."It's official," I say. "America has finally ruined France.""So can we go now?" St. Clair holds up a small bag. "I'm done.""Ooo,what'd you get?" Mer asks. She takes his bag and pulls out a delicate, shimmery scarf. "Is it for Ellie?""Shite."Mer pauses. "You didn't get anything for Ellie?""No,it's for Mum.Arrrgh." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Would you mind if we pop over to Sennelier before we go home?" Sennelier is a gorgeous little art supply sore,the kind that makes me wish I had an excuse to buy oil paints and pastels. Mer and I went with Rashmi last weekend. She bought Josh a new sketchbook for Hanukkah."Wow.Congratulations,St. Clair," I say. "Winner of today's Sucky Boyfriend award.And I thought Steve was bad-did you see what happened in calc?""You mean when Amanda caught him dirty-texting Nicole?" Mer asks. "I thought she was gonna stab him in the neck with her pencil.""I've been busy," St. Clair says.I glance at him. "I was just teasing.""Well,you don't have to be such a bloody git about it.""I wasn't being a git. I wasnt even being a twat, or a wanker, or any of your other bleeding Briticisms-""Piss off." He snatches his bag back from Mer and scowls at me."HEY!" Mer says. "It's Christmas. Ho-ho-ho. Deck the halls. Stop fighting.""We weren't fighting," he and I say together.She shakes her head. "Come on,St. Clair's right. Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.""I think it's pretty," I say. "Besides, I'd rather look at ribbons than dead rabbits.""Not the hares again," St. Clair says. "You're as bad as Rashmi."We wrestle through the Christmas crowds. "I can see why she was upset! The way they're hung up,like they'd died of nosebleeds. It's horrible. Poor Isis." All of the shops in Paris have outdone themselves with elaborate window displays,and the butcher is no exception. I pass the dead bunnies every time I go to the movies."In case you hadn't noticed," he says. "Isis is perfectly alive and well on the sixth floor.”

“Suddenly I register that St. Clair is shorter than Josh. Much shorter. It’s odd I didn’t notice earlier, but he doesn’t carry himself like a short guy. Most are shy or defensive, or some messed-up combination of the two, but St. Clair is confident and friendly and—”