Page 11 of My French Love Affair

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

The rational part of me - the part that likes to be practical and responsible - knows that booking a last-minute flight and running off to Monaco isprobablynot my best idea.

But then again… what’s keeping me in London?

The semester is over. My parents are staying at their holiday home in Florida for the summer. If I stay here, I’ll probably run into Noah at some point -

And heaven knows that I amnotemotionally prepared for round two of him serenading me in the Tesco meal-deal aisle.

So really, this is an act of self-preservation.

Me:Fuck it.

The chatexplodes.

Leah:YESSSSSSSSSS

Em:OMG FINALLY

Jas:Thank God for that!

I grin at my screen, warmth filling my chest.

One thing’s for sure - I canalwayscount on my girls to pick me up and make me laugh.

Me:I need to figure out flights.

What’s the plan? Where are you guys staying?

Leah:You can stay in our suite!

We have two queen beds - there’s more than enough room.

My smile grows impossibly wider.

Me:Love that.

Also, it’s France, capital of fashion, right?

So it’s basically a business trip.

Jas:Actually, Pops, Monaco isn’t French.

I frown.

A quick Google search later confirms it.Huh.

Me:Yeah, I’ve decided I’m going to pretend it is.

Leah:That’s the spirit.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzes with an incoming video call.

Leah, Em, and Jas appear on my screen, lounging in what looks like a ridiculously fancy hotel room.

"You girls are living instyle," I say, squinting at the screen.

"Obviously," Leah replies. "Monaco isn’t just a place, Pops. It’s alifestyle."

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