He rolled his eyes.
“Debt?”
He ignored her.
“Love.”
He met her gaze then, jaw tight. “You done yet, Cupcake?”
“Almost. Once.” She’d done it again—thrown something hurtful in his face because of carelessness. Because of frustration.
Regret threatened her indignation, and she shoved it aside. It wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t have to feel bad for Gerard’s probing comments into her life. He’d started it, pushing her to talk about private heart issues and her past.
If he didn’t want to take it, he shouldn’t dish it out. He was like Mr. Darcy, pre-redemption.
“Yeah, trust me. I’m done.” Done with his incorrigibility and stubbornness and arrogance. Done with her wishing he’d notice her—really notice her—and hating the fact that she wanted him to. Her small town wasn’t enough for his wanderlust, and never would be.
She gestured toward his laptop. “You said your feature is almost done. So, congrats. Soon you can head out on your next reality-denying adventure and forget you ever met us.”
She pressed her lips together, but the words had already escaped. It was like she got in his presence and was immediately overcome with word vomit. No one had ever stirred her ire like that.
But he’d be gone soon, and it wouldn’t matter anymore.
“I actually just got asked today to turn the feature into a two-part series.” Gerard’s quiet voice broke the stillness and interrupted the pounding of her heart. “I’m here for another week or so.”
He was right.
The clock inched toward midnight as Bri clicked slowly through the Parisian images on the computer screen. Everything that appealed to her was just as Gerard had predicted. The art museums. The churches. The bicycling paths and the Eiffel Tower. It was all the stereotypical, American view of Paris.
After all her reading and dreaming, she’d prided herself an expert on the city by now. But as she clicked through the happy faces taking selfies in front of the various popular landmarks, she realized the truth—she didn’t know a thing about the real city of love. What had Gerard mentioned? The Parc des Buttes-Chaumont and a terrace at some department store?
She’d never even heard of those places.
She soaked in the photos before her—of lush green parks and wildflowers, of bronze medallions and statues, of captivating fountains and funky graffitied walls, of elegant rooftop bars and restaurants—and felt like she was staring at a stranger.
What else had she assumed incorrectly? She’d been naive to the reporter at the Puff. Maybe she’d been blind to other things along the way too. Was that how Gerard saw her? Incapable, boring, ignorant?
Why did she even care what he thought?
She pressed her fingers against her forehead. Maybe it was the late hour, or the boiling mix of emotions hovering below the surface, but regardless, regret started a slow seep into her heart.
Ten more days.
Ten more days of Gerard’s confusing invasion in her town. Yet wasn’t he doing her a favor? Just hours ago, she’d been so grateful for his help. He was writing favorably about her favorite place on earth. Just because he wasn’t sold on it personally didn’t mean the feature wouldn’t be lifesaving for the bakery. He had promised he’d do a good job. And just because he had his arrogant moments didn’t give her any reason to assume he’d go back on his word.
The seep of regret morphed into an all-out flow.
Gerard couldn’t have intended to be cruel earlier on the swing. He just had no idea how much she longed to be like her mother. How she wished she could be brave and leave everything to pursue a dream and see what blessings waited on the other side—like when her mom left Story to learn how to bake in Paris and met her dad.
And then she did it again when she left Paris and moved back to Story after learning she was pregnant with Bri, trading the familiar and safe for adventure and risk.
Bri had never been anywhere but Nashville. The biggest risk she took was wearing peep-toe shoes in October. She couldn’t even figure out a simple secret ingredient to an age-old recipe that was supposed to be in her DNA.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she abruptly shut down her computer.
Maybe she was nothing like her mom after all.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Bri’s skin was so thin, it was a wonder she wasn’t see-through.
Gerard lowered the kickstand on his bike, then pulled the books he’d checked out on Story from his backpack and started across the library parking lot to the outside return chute.
It’d been two days since his encounter on the porch with Bri. In those two days, he’d sent Peter his first draft, received an overnighted check, sent his mom her portion through PayPal, and thought nonstop about Bri’s reaction to his comments. He’d just been making small talk. Then when she brought up how she’d never gone anywhere, well—it was worth asking about. How could someone in her position not travel? It was downright ludicrous.
Her comments about him running and avoiding roots was beside the point.
He wondered if she was still upset with him. Had she cooled down in the last two days? Gotten over her shock at his hanging around for another week? Or had she just taken the time to stew?
Regardless, he had to finish this second part of the feature or he could kiss his desired promotion at Trek goodbye—which was not an option. He wanted to write things that mattered. It was fine boasting about exotic locales and challenging others to eat spicy cuisine and go ziplining over rapids for now, but he had things to say that counted for something.
And no one to hear them.
Gerard glanced both ways across the parking lot, pausing to let a minivan pass before closing the distance to the drop-off chute. This feature could go either way at this point—the love-lock wall saves the bakery, love conquers all, and Casey’s on-site wedding serves
