She had disappeared—like Cinderella, but without leaving a glass slipper behind.
He cradled his head in his hands and stared at the carpet between his feet.
This can’t be real. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Had his conscience chosen this moment for payback? Well, the timing sucked.
And he’d better come up with a believable explanation for his strange actions—fast.
Aaron would understand. He might still give him an earful, but he had represented him for a few years now, and knew him well enough to know this wasn’t David’s usual behavior.
But Jerome was a different case. David was here to negotiate a contract. He was expected to be professional, not act like a toddler chasing after a puppy.
Too late. All he could do was apologize and be honest. But to be honest with a stranger about something so personal, he’d have to be honest with himself first.
He was a total asshole last year, which he wouldn’t share with Jerome. The only person who needed to hear his confession wasn’t here anymore. And what were the chances of running into her here, of all places?
But he knew it was Stella. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
Call her, his conscience told him. It was the only thing he could do. Finding Stella in Paris would be impossible. Where would he even start looking? Was she staying at a hotel or with a friend, maybe in a private home? And worse, was she here with somebody?
In the flash of a second when he saw Stella, she was alone. Don’t go there, Danvers. None of your damn business anymore. You waived that privilege with your stupid letter.
There it was again, the nagging voice of his conscience. He wanted to yell, Shut up! Where were you when I needed you, before I made the biggest mistake of my life?
He still couldn’t manage to take a full breath, and his heart beat a fast and furious staccato. He tried to open the top button of his shirt, but his fingers didn’t cooperate.
David pulled out his iPhone, praying she hadn’t changed her number. Seeing her picture assigned to her contact, he thought, Oh, baby, how can I fix this?
He pressed “call” before he changed his mind. His hands were shaking so hard he almost dropped his phone.
Ten agonizing rings later, he heard, “You’ve reached Stella.” The sound of her voice almost crushed him.
He was about to reply when she said, “I can’t take your call right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Unless you’re trying to sell me something, then don’t bother. Bye.”
Voice mail… he hated voice mail. But he had no choice. This was his one chance to get in touch with her while they were both in the same city. The city where he’d always imagined taking her for a romantic getaway.
“Stella, hi, it’s me.” His voice shook. “Listen…umm…I don’t know if…umm…my eyes played tricks on me, but I swear…I swear I saw you a few minutes ago…umm…at the Paris Opera House. You know, the one on rue…oh, what the hell, I don’t know what street it’s on. You know me and directions.”
This was why he hated answering machines. It was impossible to say a few consecutive words without babbling and getting tangled up in word salad. “Can we…umm…meet? Can I take you out to dinner tonight? Please, call me back. I…”
Beep…
Her voice mail cut him off. David stared at his phone and disconnected. All he could do now was hope. And wait…
If he hadn’t waited too long already.
CHAPTER 12
Stella—July 2018
S
tella squinted at the private box. It wasn’t possible. It must have been a hallucination. For a moment she thought she’d seen David. She wanted to call to the two men, “Excuse me, but did I just imagine seeing the jerk who broke my heart?”
Maybe she was dehydrated?
No—she knew it was him.
The last time she saw him in person was May of last year. He visited her for her birthday and told her he was going to Budapest for six months.
She had no idea where he lived right now, in fact had stopped following him on social media after he broke up with her.
He could be anywhere. He’s a nomad. He has no roots.
She didn’t know how she found her way out of the building. Time and place no longer existed. A cold, dark cloud engulfed her, leaving her disoriented.
She had no recollection of walking out into the warm sunshine. She didn’t know how her feet knew where to take her, and she didn’t see Naomi waiting for her at one of the tables at the brasserie.
She didn’t look back at the Opera House.
She didn’t feel arms coming around her, holding her tight.
She didn’t hear Naomi say, “What happened to you? You’re white as a sheet!”
Before Stella could answer, she heard music coming from her phone, deep in her purse. The unmistakable trombone and organ music which still meant everything to her.
A chill crept through her bones, and she shivered.
It was real.
He was real. And here in Paris.
CHAPTER 13
Stella—July 2018
“I
’m so going to wring his scrawny neck!” Naomi hissed. The water bottle crinkled as she crushed it one-handed.
“His neck isn’t scrawny, so I don’t think you’d be able to get your hands around it,” Stella hiccupped. It was almost pathetic how grateful she was for Naomi’s support.
Hearing David’s ringtone was too much, and she sat in the little brasserie crying her eyes out. Had she done the right thing by running away? Part of her wanted to go back and confront him, and part of her wanted to pretend they hadn’t come face-to-face out of the blue.
She pushed away the café au lait in front of her and reached for the more potent beverage Naomi ordered as soon as Stella burst into tears. The cognac tasted of fruit and wood and left a trail of fire down her throat. She
