Page 91 of Host for the Holidays
Madi:Greetings, big bro. Remind me where you are again?
He’s a busy guy, so I don’t expect to hear from him for 10-12 business days, but I happen to be wrong tonight.
Jack:I’m in Aspen with Paul’s family. They invited me to spend Christmas with them. I’ve been wondering how you were doing over there. How’s Paris? Is this THE TEXT?
I sigh.
Madi:If by THE TEXT you mean the text informing you that Josh and I broke up, then yes. Consider yourself informed.
The three dots appear, disappear, reappear, disappear. It’s really awkward for people to express sympathy for a relationship they never really wanted to work out. I get it.
Madi:You don’t have to pretend to be crushed, Jack.
Jack:*thankful hands emoji x 5* Are you flying home, then? Staying with the Sheppards for Christmas? Tell Siena I say hi. *wink face emoji*
Madi:You’re so not funny. I’ll break you. But I haven’t decided my plans yet.
Madi:PS Merry Christmas and I love you
Jack:Merry Christmas. Love you more.
I click out of my texts and stare blankly at my phone. Suddenly, this whole thing feels stupid. So. Stupid. I came to Paris to get a job and get engaged. Spending Christmas with my new fiancé in the City of Love sounded like the best thing in the world a couple weeks ago.
Well, I’m in Paris now with no job and no fiancé. All I’m doing here is skirting the line between friendship and . . . what? I don’t even know. Nothing can happen with Rémy.
This game we’re playing is for people with hearts less weathered than mine. If I’m trying to convince myself that I’m successfully staying on the side of friendship with him, I’m only fooling myself. And I’ve been the fool enough recently to last me a lifetime.
So why am I still here?
THIRTY-SEVEN
RÉMY
“Rémy. Rémy.”
I blink, and four people, all looking at me, come into focus.
“You still with us?” Guillaume asks, waving a hand in front of my face to check my awareness.
“Yeah, sorry.” For someone who spends a lot of my time trying to redirect young, wandering brains to the present, my more seasoned brain is frustratingly similar. I refocus it on the conversation.
The bar we’re at is a mishmash of smells: cigarettes, marijuana, alcohol, and the sweet scent of vape pens. It’s not my favorite environment, but when I texted Guillaume to see if he wanted to hang out, he already had plans to come here. We went to university together, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen him. He teaches at a lycée in Lille, but he’s visiting his parents during the holiday break. I was desperate enough for something to do that I actually took him up on what was probably just a polite invitation to join him and his friends.
One of those friends, Marion, has her eye on me across the table. It’s been like that since I arrived. She’s nice and everything, but, not only am I not interested, I’m terrible company tonight. I’ve had Madi on my mind all day, which is frustrating since I’ve made a point of keeping busy to avoid that.
For some reason, along with Madi have come thoughts of my dad. Maybe it’s the prospect of her leaving—and back to the U.S., no less—that’s rustling up old baggage. Sure, I could leave it zipped and contained all neatly, but instead I pull out my phone and start unzipping. I don’t even bother with the usual hellos or polite chitchat.
Rémy:Why don’t we ever talk?
I set my phone aside and try to pretend I’m not impatient or curious about what’s spilling out of the baggage I just opened. Guillaume is talking about politics, though, and since I missed the first part of the conversation, I don’t even attempt to chime in.
My phone lights up, but instead of the text I was expecting, it’s a call. I stand up and excuse myself, my heart thrumming.
“Hey, Dad,” I say as I make my way out of the bar to where it’s not so loud.
“Rémy,” he says, and I can hear in his voice that this contact was unexpected. I don’t blame him. We’re not really in the habit of deep talk. Or much talk at all. “How are you?”
“I’m . . .” I press my lips together. I don’t even know how I am, and I definitely don’t feel like my dad and I are in a place where I could freely explain that, even if Icouldverbalize it.
