Her heart sank. But he would never know if she went, would he? Their relationship, as quickly as it’d started, was over. She had no reason to tell him. If she did this, if she pushed that button—she had to do it for herself.
Which she was most definitely not accustomed to doing. She was used to doing for others. Discounting treats and handing out coffee and offering a listening ear and a warm hug and a word of encouragement—which always went down better with a fresh petit four. She had no problem doting on others—so why the hesitation to do something for herself? She deserved this. Right?
She took her hand off the mouse and fiddled with the miniature Eiffel Tower figurine on her desk. What would it be like to finally see it in person?
A wave of anxiety, maybe even fear, rushed over her, and she quickly pulled her hand away. She swallowed hard and crossed her arms over her chest—away from the mouse. Where was the fear coming from? It was as tangible as her heartbeat. Maybe if she figured that out, she could just click the button already.
Bri tapped one foot against the side of her desk as she ran through the possibilities. She wasn’t afraid to fly. That wasn’t it. She wasn’t afraid to be alone in a foreign city, though she felt somewhat unprepared. Nothing a little research couldn’t help, though. And she wasn’t afraid of the expense—she’d been able to afford it for years now, as Gerard had not-so-tactfully pointed out.
Nothing jumped out at her as the obvious answer. So why the heart-pounding adrenaline rush holding her back?
Everything in her wanted to go. Wanted to see the place where her parents fell in love. Wanted to taste fresh croissants and stroll the Seine and all the cliché things Gerard had made fun of—plus the not-so-cliché list he’d mentioned. As much as she hated to admit it, that list sounded incredibly appealing.
She just wanted to do it with him now.
That was it, wasn’t it? The fear holding her captive. All these years, she’d held herself back to take care of the Puff, to sustain it and her mother’s memory.
Now that it was soon to be gone, she had no reason to stay.
And was terrified to go.
She groaned as the obvious sank in. Gerard lived fast to avoid planting roots—she clung to her roots to avoid living. What a pair they were. No wonder it hadn’t worked out. Well, that, and the small detail that Gerard had betrayed her. And yet she couldn’t turn her heart off long enough to see the truth. He’d played her for his story.
Against her own ex-boyfriend.
For cash.
It didn’t get much lower than that.
An ad for his and hers matching luggage sets popped up in the sidebar of the airline’s website. She stared at the happy couple toting their black rolling suitcases, the woman laughing as she half turned toward her clean-shaven guy. Bri snorted. She bet that guy hadn’t betrayed his woman—with her perfect ringlets—like Gerard had her.
Then again, the guy on the screen probably hadn’t made that girl an authentic French picnic, kissed her in a fountain during a wedding, or wrestled her on a kitchen floor over burned petit fours.
A smile tugged at her reluctant lips. Gerard, for all the bitterness he’d carried into town, had somehow represented a more genuine love than she’d ever had in any past relationship. Not by sweeping her off her feet with grand gestures, but with honesty, truth, and even confrontation—all when she’d rather live in denial. Over Paris. Over her parents.
Over love.
The fear knotting in her stomach began to unravel. He’d never been afraid to tell her like it was. To challenge her, to call her out on her blindness or her bad advice to friends and people she loved. He never avoided conflict for the sake of peacekeeping, like she did. All those uncertainties she’d had about Casey and Nathan’s engagement—had she ever voiced them to Casey? No, she’d hidden them. Gerard, however, who had nothing invested in Casey at all, immediately spoke up that day in the bakery and put her to the test—one Casey immediately passed.
Which was more loving? Suppressing concern to avoid awkwardness or delivering honesty in love?
She rolled the Eiffel Tower between her fingers. Gerard had stayed right next to her during the journey through her parents’ love story, and yet somehow, at the same time, he’d refused to let her stay in the misguided fantasy. He had shown her how beauty was found in reality rather than in an illusion. He had pointed out the depth of her parents’ love in her mom’s choice to stay and make it right rather than focusing on how it shouldn’t have happened at all. That spoke of grace. Restoration.
Would a man like that really hurt her on purpose?
The knot unraveled another inch. No. Gerard had been honest from the beginning—painfully honest, actually, about not liking her coffee and thinking her interpretation of Pride and Prejudice was all wrong. She smirked. A man who was forthright enough to confront her in a book club wasn’t sneaky and manipulative. She knew that.
She hadn’t even heard him out. She’d taken the few pieces of information he’d partially explained and held on to them instead of the whole truth.
Regret pinched hard. She had to make this right—or she’d always have that “what if” hanging over her head.
Bri jumped up from her computer, her heart racing. She had to find him—now, before he roared out of town and officially out of her life. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the dining room chair and launched toward her townhome door.
Time to run, for once.
She started to flip the dead bolt behind her, then stopped. Oops. Almost forgot. Jaw set, she rushed back to her computer.
Click.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
He wanted a petit four.
Gerard stared at the rows of packaged candy bars and chips, debating his options. This town had created a stress-eat reaction
