Sorry. I live in France now. Au revoir
I tuck my phone away, still smiling, and ride back to my place.
In the stairwell, my phone buzzes again. I glance down.
Worth:
Heard about the site visit. Congrats.
And my heart actuallyaches.
Worth and I have texted a handful of times since I got here. Always short and about work. Nothing more.
I stare at his message way too long.
I miss him.
I missthem.
But this time apart is doing what it was supposed to: I can breathe. The noise died down. People in Seattle moved on to the next scandal. I’m not “the gold digger” here; I’m just the project lead with good French and decent style.
I shove the phone into my pocket and climb the stairs.
That night, after a shower and leftover ratatouille out of a plastic container, I FaceTime Tiana.
We talk for a bit—about Paris, about how much lighter I look (her words), about how she’s thinking of doing a floral workshop, about how Griffin actually has a nice side when he’s not pretending to be made of cement. She asks about work; I tell her the site visit went well and that I haven’t fallen off the scaffolding yet.
Then her face turns solemn. “And how’s your heart?”
“Quieter.”
“That’s not the same as happy.”
“It’s getting there.”
She studies me through the screen. “You talk to him?”
I shrug. “We’ve texted a couple times.”
Tiana sighs like she wants to say more but also knows I need to figure this one out myself. “Okay. Check in again tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
After we hang up, I lie there for a second in the dark, Paris humming outside, the Eiffel Tower doing its sparkle far, far away, and I finally pick up my phone to respond to Worth.
Thank you. Couldn’t have done it without the team.
Three dots pop up immediately.
Then my phone rings.
I bolt upright, heart hammering. Part of me wants to let it go to voicemail. The bigger part wants to answer because I haven’t heard his voice in weeks and I miss it so much my chest hurts.
I swipe.
“Hey,” I say, breathless.
“Hi.” And just like that, I could cry. God, I missed that voice. Low and warm and a little rough as if he’s been talking all day.