Page 43 of Beauty
With a sigh, I drag a hand down my face. “What happens in the movie?”
“Kate’s character has John’s character write his name and number on a dollar bill. She spends the money, believing that if it comes back to her, she’ll know they’re meant to be.”
A thread of irritation works its way through me. “That’s ridiculous,” I huff. “I’m not putting my number on a dollar bill when I could give it to you now. Let me do that. Take it. You can decide whether you want to call. You may never use it, but at least that way, there’d be a chance.”
“I’ve written my number on a dollar bill already. I’ll use it when I get back to Boston.”
“Sienna,” I plead, grasping her wrists, desperate to change her mind.
“And the book you were reading on the plane?”
I frown. “What about it?”
“In the movie, she writes her number in a book, then sells it. That way, they have double the chance.” She worries her bottom lip and searches my eyes. “Put your name and number in the book, and when you get back to Boston, sell it.”
“But you’ll be in Paris.” I pull her closer. I can’t get close enough. Why did the universe throw us together like this only to take her away so quickly? Why is my life so damn complicated?
“I snapped a picture of the book. The universe will bring us back together when the time is right.” She’s so sure of herself. So innocent and pure. So fucking perfect.
Frustration floods me. I hate this plan. I hate it so freaking much.
She snaps me out of my stewing with a nip to my lip. “It’s serendipity. We’re meant to be. We’ll find each other again when the timing is right.”
What if serendipity isn’t real and this weekend was nothing but a bunch of happy coincidences? What if we never find each other again?
I keep those thoughts to myself, choosing instead to believe like she does that we’re meant to be. That the universe will bring her back to me.
With her arms draped around my neck, she kisses me slowly, deeply.
I savor the taste of her. The feel of her in my arms, cataloging every detail, set on memorizing them all.
Before I’m ready to let her go, her phone rings and she pulls back.
The person on the other end—the concierge, I assume—reminds her that her car is ready. With a simpleokay, she ends the call. Then she’s peering up at me again. “I have to go.”
I nod, swallowing back the devastation that threatens to burst from me. “Have a safe flight.”
“Thank you, Noah. This weekend.” She shakes her head and sucks in a long breath. “It was everything.”
I cuff the back of her neck and kiss her again. Eyes closed, soaking her in one last time, I will her to be right. But most of all, I silently pray she’ll be happy. “You’re going to do amazing things, butterfly. You’re going to soar. I can’t wait to see what you do with this life.” I press my forehead to hers and inhale deeply. “And I’m going to find you again.”
With a step back, she gives me a melancholy smile. “I’m counting on it.”
And then she’s gone.
THIRTEEN
SIENNA
As I settleinto my first-class seat, I survey every person who steps onto the plane. I’m almost certain that I made the biggest mistake of my life last week.
Why didn’t I give Noah my phone number? Or get his last name? Something,anything. I was a fool, believing in fate, and now I’m heading to Paris for god only knows how long, pretty certain I’ll never see him again.
While I waited for my flight from the Bahamas, I was tempted to call the hotel and ask for his information. And I came close to calling my room number to see if he was still there. But the romantic in me believed he’d find that dollar bill when the time was right. Believed I’d find that book.
Now I’m coming to terms with the fact that I’m the dumbest girl alive. What kind of woman finds a hot, articulate, intellectual man who knows how to make her body melt and sayshope you find my dollarbill? Only an idiot, that’s who.
As a woman in business attire walks down the aisle past me, I look away and remind myself that it’s better this way. I’m about to embark on the kind of endeavor every fashion designerdreams of. Soon, I’ll have my own line and my own show. Not to mention an unlimited budget to create whatever I want.
