Page 267 of My French Love Affair

I press my fingers lightly over the goldenF, exhaling deeply.

Because somehow, despite leaving Monaco - despite leavinghim-

He still feels closer than ever.

* * *

London feels different.

The air is cooler, the skyline familiar, the streets bustling in the way they always are. But something about it all feels… off. Like I’ve left a part of myself behind somewhere between the towering buildings of Monaco, the sparkling harbor, the electric roar of the racetrack.

Somewhere between him.

It’s been two days since I landed. Two days since I hugged my parents, since I unpacked my bags, since I curled up in my own bed for the first time in weeks.

Two days since I last saw him.

I’ve spoken to him, of course. He called the moment I got home, his voice smooth and teasing as he asked if I was wearing his necklace.

(I haven’t taken it off.)

We’ve been texting constantly - flirty, playful messages mixed with deeper conversations. He’s told me he misses me. That Monaco feels quiet without me. That he’s counting down the days until he can see me again.

And I -

Well.

I miss him too. More than I should.

More than I know what to do with.

I sigh, running my fingers over the golden F resting againstmy collarbone as I stare out my bedroom window, the city skyline glowing against the dusk.

Then, my phone buzzes.

My stomach flutters instinctively as I grab it, already knowing who it is before I even check.

Frederic.

Open your front door.

I blink, my heart skipping.

Wait.What?

Frowning, I shove my phone into my pocket and hurry downstairs, my pulse hammering as I unlock the door and pull it open.

And then -

I freeze.

Because there he is.

Frederic Moreau, standing on my doorstep, dressed in a simple white t-shirt and jeans, hands tucked into his pockets, a slow, knowing smirk playing at his lips.

My breath catches.

“You -” My voice is hoarse, my brain struggling to process what’s happening. “What thehellare you doing here?”

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