Worth blinks. “I definitely didn’t send that.”
“I know. Apparently your daughter did.”
Bri bobs her head. “You guys needed to talk and you weren’t talking and Dad kept not calling you and you kept not calling him, so I said, ‘We’re going to Paris anyway, let’s just make them meet,’ and here we are.”
I stare at her.
Worth does too. Then I laugh, head tipping back—and I could kiss this kid, because I haven’t genuinely laughed in months.
He shakes his head, fighting a smile. “You’re not supposed to manipulate your father.”
“You guys weren’t doing it yourselves,” Bri says, shrugging. “So I helped.”
I look at Worth over the candle, eyes soft now. “For what it’s worth… It was a really good gift.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah? I wish I could take credit.” He holds my gaze, and for a second the noise of the restaurant fades.
Bri takes a sip of her water like she didn’t just mastermind an international reunion. “Sooo, now that everybody’s here… I have to pee,” she announces, sliding off her chair, because subtlety is not in her vocabulary. She gives us both a pointed look. “Don’t fight.”
“We won’t,” Worth says.
She rolls her eyes,and disappears toward the bathrooms.
Suddenly it’s just us.
I smooth my napkin over my lap. “Hi,” I say, because what else do you say to your ex-husband-slash-still-somehow-love in the middle of a Paris restaurant on your fake anniversary?
Worth smiles, a little shy, which is so unlike him that my stomach flips.
“Hi.” He glances in the direction Bri went. “Sorry about my conniving daughter.”
“Don’t be. She’s persistent. Wonder where she got that from.”
“Definitely not me,” he deadpans.
I bite back another laugh. Then I figure I might as well tell him before Bri does. “I should probably admit something, though.”
His brows lift. “Yeah?”
“Bri and I never really stopped talking.” I watch his face carefully. “We’ve been texting this entire time. I hope you’re not mad.”
His expression softens immediately. “Mya. No. Of course I’m not mad.” He leans in, forearms on the table, candlelight catching in his eyes. “Brianna loves you. She was gutted when you left. We both were. I was just trying to give you space.”
That stings, even though I knew. “I still feel guilty about that, and about leaving Bri without a goodbye... But she saidshe understood. I don’t know how a fourteen-year-old can understand heartbreak better than some adults.”
“She’s had practice,” Worth says quietly.
My throat tightens. I look around us. “It’s kind of wild we’re back here.”
“Yeah.”
“Whole different circumstances.”
“Way different,” he agrees.
A year ago, we were high on adrenaline. A year ago, I wasn’t in love yet. Not like this. A year ago, there was just a man and a woman playing house and getting way too good at it.
“I don’t regret it, though,” he says.