Page 111 of Host for the Holidays
Josh is promising me Paris, but Rémy already gave me Paris. And without Rémy, Paris is just a pretty city that very possibly used to hate my guts. He showed me how to love it until it loved me back.
Josh takes in a deep breath and starts to go down on one knee.
“Josh Josh Josh,” I say, looking at all the people who’ve gathered around us. Some even have their phones out. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
He pauses on the way down, glancing at the people all around and coming back up every bit as slowly as he descended. The man’s quads must be burning.
I look around for a place where we could be private for a minute, but we are essentially on an enormous stage, except all hell has broken loose at this theater because, not only am I an unwilling participant, the audience has stormed the stage and is blocking the exits. They demand a performance. But I can’t give it to them.
“What is it?” Josh asks.
I swallow, accepting that there is no way out of this that is not humiliating for Josh and does not make me look heartless. Could he not have at least chosen to do this on some small, cobbled side street?
No. Because he’s Josh, and he goes big. But he’s missed his mark this time. By a lot.
I take in a breath and look at him, hoping he can see how badly I feel about this. “I’m sorry, Josh. I . . . I just can’t. It’s not what I want anymore. And I don’t think it’s what you want, either. Not really.”
There’s a collectiveaww. It’s like we’re on an episode ofFull House.
Josh doesn’t talk. He can’t. His face says,I don’t believe this.
I wonder for a second if I should tell him about Rémy, be completely upfront with him, help him accept how serious I am. Given this audience, though, I don’t know that it’s a merciful choice to reject him and throw another man in his face.
I glance over at Rémy.
Except not, because he’s not there.
FORTY-SIX
RÉMY
I couldn’t watch.
Maybe that makes me a coward. There were twenty-five other people watching, after all. But I’m not a tourist watching a romantic engagement in front of the Eiffel Tower with no skin in the game.
I’m in love with Madi, and the moment Josh took her by the hand, I realized that I didn’t know what was going to happen. I know Madi cares about me. I don’t doubt that at all. But I also know a couple of other things.
I met Madi less than two weeks ago. She and Josh were together for twoyears.She came to Paris hoping to get engaged to him. And now she has that chance.
She told me her relationship with Josh is like a habit. Humans are terrible at breaking habits. We do things all the time that aren’t healthy for the simple fact that it’s what we’re used to doing. And Madi would hardly be the first person to get back into a bad relationship because she hoped it would be different this time.
And Josh? He came prepared to get ayes, with a slick sales pitch and a violinist and everything. Every woman’s dream proposal.
And I? I couldn’t bring myself to wait and see what she decided. It’s like when my dad left; I stayed away because watching the act of him actually leaving was too much for me to handle. I think some part of me hoped that when I went home afterward, he wouldn’t be gone, that he’d have stayed.
But he didn’t. And what if Madi doesn’t either?
I stop just shy of the crosswalk and shut my eyes.
I assumed you knew.
That’s what my dad said when we talked the other night. And because of that assumption, I spent the last few years thinking my dad didn’t care about me, that I had to prove myself to him and earn his love. We both could have avoided all that if one of us had been brave enough to just say what we wanted and what we felt.
And yet here I am, doing the same thing with Madi, waiting to see if she leaves without making sure she knows exactly where I stand.
I turn back toward the Trocadéro, my heart picking up speed. If she chooses Josh after I say my piece, so be it. At least I won’t have to live my life wondering what might have been different if I’d had the courage to tell her. At least my pain will have a foundation in reality rather than assumption.
I start jogging back toward the esplanade, my eyes searching for the group of people congregated to watch. It’s getting darker, making it harder to see. I slow down because I don’t spot anyone where it was all happening.
