Page 27 of That Weekend in Paris
“Why do you think that is?”
“Looking for love in all the wrong places?”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Is it true Josh was having an affair?”
“Ah, yeah. It’s true.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
“Not the first one then.”
“Apparently.”
“You didn’t deserve that.”
“No one deserves betrayal.”
I think about this. “No.”
I feel the moment awareness starts to hum. It’s a tangible current that crosses the space between us, the electricity nearly a visible line in the glowy light of the room.
I can see the awareness bloom on her face, the way her eyes darken a little, her lips parting beneath a soft release of breath.
“You’re heading back in the morning?” she asks, her gaze direct on mine.
“Yeah,” I say, wondering for a moment if I really want to leave, if I’m ready to go back to Nashville and what has started to feel like an empty life there. What is it I’m considering?
“When are you leaving?”
“I-ah, I had planned to take a few days and see some of the countryside.”
“That sounds nice.”
Silence hangs between us. I stand, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “I should go. It’s late.”
She stands too, pulling the robe tighter and making a move toward the door. “Yeah. You’ll have a flight to catch in the morning.”
I walk to the door, stop, and turn to face her. “This might sound crazy, but would you mind if I went with you? Maybe just for a couple of days?”
Her surprise is evident in the ensuing silence. And then, “Ah, you mean travel together?”
I realize I’ve shocked her. Clearly, it was a stupid idea. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I should get back to Nashville. Hadn’t planned to be away longer. I’ll have plenty to catch up on.”
She starts to say something, stops, and then says, “No. You should come with me. I’d really like having the company.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
“I don’t want to impose on your plans.”
“The plan was loose. Still is.”
“I don’t go off the calendar too often.”
