Page 137 of It's Always Been You
Surprised, I glance down. I’d forgotten all about it. I hand it over. “It’s nothing special.” What she doesn’t know, though, is that I would pull the stars out of the sky and gift wrap them for her if I could.
Grinning, she rips into the wrapping paper and tears the lid off. Her dark eyes brighten with excitement, but then her brows furrow when she realizes it’s a stuffed dragon with sparkly fur, a teal belly, and purple ears. “What is—”
“It’s Spitfire the Dragon,” I say, scratching behind my ear. “For your collection. I couldn’t pass it up when Teddy found it at Goodwill—”
Before I can finish my thought, she’s bear-hugging me. “Don’t say another word. I love it.” She sighs heavily into my shirt. “But I kind of donated that collection.”
“There’s more where that came from,” I hint. “But you’ll have to go on that trip to earn it.”
“You and your creepy little stipulations,” she mutters, pulling away.
I laugh. “Go.”
“You go,” she retorts.
“Don’t you have things you need to be doing?”
Her eyes widen like she’s forgotten she’s at work. I chuckle. Sticking her tongue out, she flips her ponytail over her shoulder and spins on her heel, not even sparing me a backwards glance as she leaves.
Chapter 46
Evie
Whosebrightideawasit to travel to one of the most romantic cities in the world on Valentine’s Day weekend? Oh, right.Mine.I’m fighting for my life at the base of the Eiffel Tower as rain pummels against the asphalt, soaking through my sneakers as I dodge dozens of kissing couples in my pursuit of snapping the perfect travel selfie.
Just when I think I’ve found the right angle, and the impressive, timeless steel structure is positioned directly behind me, twinkling like a star—a couple waltzes into the background.
I drop my phone to my side with a huff. “Seriously?”
The couple continues spinning around me while their photographer moons over them. It’s almost as if they’re mocking the fact that I’m here alone . . . When the man dips his partner into a deep, soul-searching kiss, my heart aches for Brandon. It’s been two weeks since I’ve last seen him or spoken to him on the phone. I’ve been checking in periodically to let him know I’m safe and sending the occasional selfie, but that’s suddenly not enough anymore as I watch this beautiful couple dance circles around me. Literally.
When he drops to one knee, I book it out of the frame.
I settle for taking a picture of the twinkling landmark in all its glory without me, then hurry to take cover from the pouring rain beneath the awning of a flower shop. I purchase a fresh bouquet of daisies with the intention of pressing them as a keepsake, then hurry back to my hotel, where I plan to dry off andget ready for evening mass. It’s my last night in Paris before I head home, and I want to spend it with the One who made this trip possible.
When I throw the door to my hotel room open, soaked and chilled to the bone, I pause and stand in awe. There are yellow daisies filling the room, bouquets of them stretching as far as the eye can see. They’re flooding the console table and vanity, spilling from the dresser onto the carpeted floor. They’re crowding my nightstand and the breakfast table near the balcony doors. They’reeverywhere.
My breath catches as their crisp, floral scent reaches my nose.
Have I entered the wrong room?
I glance at the number on the door, then down at my key card, flipping it over uselessly in search of answers.
Nope.
Dazzled, I grab the notecard waiting patiently for me on the console table and rip it open. I’m almost positive the staff has delivered these to the wrong room.
But I’m mistaken.
Dear Spitfire,
Are you having a good time? I miss you and think about you constantly.
I love you.
Brandon
With shallow breaths and shaking hands, I search around inside my satchel for his letter. I brought it with me because I knew I wanted to read it during my flight home, but I couldn’t just leave it unattended in my hotel room. So it’s come with me pretty much everywhere over the last couple of weeks.
