Blame It On Paris

time of day or night it was.

While she waited for her luggage, her stomach kept lurching and her head refused to stop pounding-possibly because her body was so mixed up, but more probably because being home felt like landing on an alien planet.

She was supposed to be Kelly Nicole Rochard. Or she assumed she'd feel like herself when she got home again. The impossible, crazy, wonderful love affair with Will should have felt like a distant dream, a fantasy.

This was supposed to be her real life. Right?

A young woman with spiked red hair hurled through the doors near baggage claim and shrieked when she saw her. 'Kelly! I'm so glad you asked me to come! You look wonderful!'

Kelly figured she actually looked what she was, tired and crumbling from the inside out. But Brenna, the girl Friday in the office, was an ideal chauffeur for this venture.

Originally Kelly had thought to have her mother to pick her up, but she'd changed that plan. She needed to talk to her mom, soon and seriously, but not yet. Her first crisis had to be a confrontational talk with Jason, come hell or high water, sick or not sick, tired or not tired. And Brenna was perfect company, first because she was thrilled to have the excuse to get out of the office, and second, because she was impossibly easy to be with.

Skinny as a rail, tottering on four-inch heels, Brenna yanked all Kelly's luggage away from her. wrapped her hands around a fresh chai and chattered the whole drive. How was Paris? Were the men hot? Did Kelly hate not being able to eat American food? How scary it must have been, to get mugged and lose her passport. She'd been missed; her desk was heaped to the ceiling, and no one could calm down Myrna in a snit the way she could. Myrna could be getting a divorce. Everyone knew her husband was fooling around. Sam had got a new dog. He'd brought it in to the office one day and it had peed all over the place.

'Do you want me to come in and help you unpack?' she asked at the apartment, looking hopeful.

'Thanks. Brenna, but I can take it from here. I can't thank you enough for picking me up. I owe you a dinner. And I'll see you at the office tomorrow.'

Brenna looked crestfallen at not being able to cop more time out of the office, but her expression brightened almost immediately. 'You're probably hot for the reunion with Jason, huh? You two lovebirds haven't seen each other in two weeks now! I'll bet you can hardly stand it!'

'Hmm,' Kelly said.

And then there she was. Alone, standing in front of the apartment. The place was just a few miles from the Notre Dame campus, and a mile from the infamous shopping on Grape Road. It was one of those typical complexes for young professionals. Most of the occupants were single, a few married, but nobody had kids yet. The place could get pretty rowdy on a Friday night, but midafternoon, like now, there was barely a car in sight except for her white Saturn, sitting, dusty, in the spot next to Jason's.

She lugged her gear up the walk, turned the key and pushed open the door. Her heart sank lower than sludge when she let herself inside.

The only sound in the place was a ticking clock, a clock she'd bought herself two months ago, on sale. It had been Jason's apartment before hers. She'd moved in because there came a point where it seemed ridiculous not to. He'd given her the ring. They'd been sleeping together. Their families and friends had been expecting the marriage announcement for years-probably close to a decade. It just didn't make sense to pay two separate rents when they were consolidating what they had together.

She swallowed hard, looking at everything that should have been familiar, but it was as if she were wearing glasses with a tint. Nothing looked the same.

The red couch was hers, the leather recliner his. The plasma TV and terrific sound system, his. The two museum prints on the far wall, the vacuum cleaner, the massive pot of shamrocks-dead, she noted, from lack of watering-hers.

The place was small, just a living room with an el for a dining table, a kitchen, two small bedrooms. A pretty patio led out to a long, glossy lawn area, though. And the living room got a ton of light. They'd bought the bookshelves together. The splashy rug under the TV.

She wandered into the kitchen, the one room that was almost entirely her doing. She'd chosen the dishes and decor in a flurry of nesting, picked out blue-and-white china, a French-looking pattern, which struck her as ironic now. The blue goblets still wore their price tags. She'd been planning on putting blue-and-white tile behind the porcelain sink herself, planned on throwing out Jason's decrepit college silverware and choosing her own pattern, something they could register for as a wedding gift. And she desperately wanted copper pots, knew perfectly well how insanely expensive they were, but she loved them so much, and thought…

All her musings suddenly seemed light-years past. Kelly sank against the counter in the kitchen, remembering the plans she'd had only a short few weeks ago, and felt a sharp, raw pain in her throat.

It was almost two hours later when she heard the front door open. The sound made her jump. By that time she was back in the main bedroom, mainlining her third mug of coffee, filling a suitcase full of shoes. There were already two suitcases and various bags stuffed in her car. Clothes, not furniture. Toiletries, nothing that was mutually bought or used. She'd emptied the bathroom and the bedroom, but only of her own personal things.

'Hey, Kelly-'

Jason's familiar voice jolted her a second time, but then there was a sudden silence. She squeezed her eyes closed. Jason, being Jason, had likely figured things out a millisecond after walking in.

She found him in the kitchen. He'd put two glasses-mismatched-on the table, was fumbling in the cupboard over the fridge. When he turned around, he had a dusty bottle of whisky in his hand, left over from at least the Christmas before. When he saw her, his shoulders were already slumped, his eyes flat as dull coins.

'Somehow I figured your homecoming would work out a little differently,' he said.

'So did I.' A thousand memories stood between them. She'd known him from first grade, gone trick-or-treating with him at Halloween, hurled on him in fifth grade, gone to proms and movies and football games with him. His parents loved her. She adored them. He looked like a younger version of his dad, soft dark hair, bright dark eyes, good-looking in a quiet way. What killed her. though, was knowing that she loved him. Had always loved him. Probably always would love him.

The way she'd love a brother.

How come it had taken her so long to figure it out? And man, it hurt to hurt him.

He watched the play of emotion on her face, in her posture, and said, 'Whatever it is, we can fix it, Kelly.'

She said softly. 'No. We can't. I only wish. I wish from my heart.'

'That's bullshit. You haven't even told me what the trouble is.'

Jason never had much of a temper, but she saw it now, the control of it, in a flash of his dark eyes.

He splashed the liquor in both glasses, drank his, and then refilled his glass. 'You met some guy in Paris, is that it? You screwed around?'

'That's not it.'

'Come on, I've known you forever-that has to be it. You left here two weeks ago ready to marry me. We set up the apartment to live together, be together. Our families were part of it. It's what we've been working for, waiting for, since we were riding our two-wheelers around the block, for God's sake. You never said anything before this, so don't waste your time lying to me. It has to be another guy.'

'No. Not in the sense you mean,' she said quietly, and saw another flash of anger in his eyes, so sharp it made her flinch.

She suddenly saw their history together as one-sided. Jason had always pursued her. Always made sure he was in the same room, same corner, same place-always there, before another guy could walk into the picture. He'd been patient and kind and loving. But relentless. He'd always been that sure he wanted her, sure they belonged together.

He threw back the second shot of Jim Beam. 'It'd be insane to throw it all away. We've been part of each other's lives forever.'

'I know.'

'I know every flaw you've got, inside and out. I'm still here. I know what you look like with the flu. I know your moods.'

'I know, Jason,' she said quietly.

'Your mother loves my mother. My family all love you. Everyone in the old neighborhood, the schools we went to, everything-they're all part of this. Part of us. You wouldn't just be hurting me by breaking up. You'd be hurting a