Page 128 of My French Love Affair

“Are youjoking?!Poppy, this is so much more fun than anything we had planned for today. Look at this!”

She gestures dramatically at the box, then at the flowers, then at me.

Jas, still relaxed on the couch, lifts a brow.

“Yeah, speaking of which - how did he even know where you’re staying?”

Oh.

I hadn’t even thought about that.

A shiver runs down my spine, my fingers tightening around the card.

Howdidhe know?

Did he ask someone? Look it up somehow?

Does he just have people in his circle who find these things out for him on demand?

I roll them over in my head, and honestly, I don’t know which option is worse.

“Oh, come on. He’s an F1 driver. A literalcelebrity.Think of the money, the fame, thepower!” Emma declares. “He probably called someone, threw some cash at the problem, andpoof! Now he knows where to send his ridiculously expensive apology gifts.”

“I don’t know,” Jas says, tilting her head. “If this was just an apology, why include his number?”

I set the card down on the desk like it’s radioactive.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

Emma gapes at me. “You’re not serious, Pops. Youhaveto text him.”

“No,” I say, crossing my arms, doubling down. “I don’t.”

“Poppy.” She gestures wildly. “You have his number.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Youhavehisnumber.”

“Yes, I just said that.”

“So, what’s the issue?!”

“Theissue,” I snap, “is that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. And then… And then it was supposed to be a one-night thing.”

Emma lifts a brow. “And?”

“Andthis-” I motion aggressively at the display, “- doesnotscream ‘one-night thing’.”

“I mean, yeah. The man did just buy you couture swimwear,” Jas laughs.

Emma points a finger at her. “Thank you!”

I groan, running a hand through my hair.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, itmatters-”

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