to catch her in person.
Nadine sat next to him, her arms crossed over her chest. Their trip had been rather predictable, first filled with begging and pleading, then accusations and insults and finally a sullen silence that he welcomed.
He slowed down as he reached the village, driving as quickly as was safe over the narrow streets, which were still made of stone in parts. He stopped in front of the nineteenth-century train station and jumped out, dodging old ladies with their market baskets and tourists with maps.
“What about me?” Nadine screeched.
He pointed to the large timetable posted. “Get a ticket because you’re not staying here.”
He ran to the ticket office. “When did the last train leave?”
The older man inside checked the clock. “It has been two hours.”
“Good.” He sagged in relief. Lily had to be somewhere around here. “When does the next train leave?”
“For where, monsieur?”
“Anywhere.”
“The train to Avignon leaves in ten minutes.”
Jack thanked him and moved away, scanning the small crowd gathering to board. If she got to Avignon, he wouldn’t be able to catch up. The high-speed train would take her to Paris in a few hours, and hundreds of flights left Paris every day.
If Lily had left France, he would follow her to Philadelphia. He would follow her to the ends of the earth—after all, he knew his way around them by now.
17
LILY STOOD ON the train platform, the French conversations buzzing around her like the cicadas in the lavender fields of the great de Brissard family. Damn Jack. Her mother’s words about unexpected heartbreak from a nice man had been prophetic. It just showed that only a person you trusted could betray you so painfully.
Her backpack weighed on her shoulders as if she had bricks in it, but she knew it was the weight of her disappointment and sadness. When was that dumb train coming? If she had to stand around much longer, she’d either scream or burst into tears. Or both.
“Lily, Lily! Wait!” Jack sprinted toward her.
“Go away.” Her voice quivered a bit on the last syllable.
“Lily, don’t cry.”
She pulled off her sunglasses to show him her dry, extremely angry eyes. “I am not crying. I haven’t cried over anything but babies and puppies for years. Certainly not men.”
“Nadine is a liar.”
“Apparently she is also lazy.” Lily spotted the blonde bitch standing next to the rental car, halfheartedly tugging at a small carry-on bag while she looked around for some unsuspecting male idiot to save her. Well, welcome to the real world, sister. No man was going to ride up on his white horse to make everything all right. Or drive up in a white rental car.
“I was engaged to her, it’s true. But that ended abruptly right before I left for Burma when I found her with another man. In our bed.”
Lily winced. Even though she was mad at Jack, it was an appalling image, even more appalling than the image in front of her. “Good grief, what on earth are you wearing?”
He looked down at himself. The red cotton looked spray-painted on, several inches of abdomen showing between his waistline and his T-shirt hem. It looked as if he had borrowed it from a thirteen-year-old. “My scout T-shirt from when I went to the big jamboree.”
She peered at the silk-screened date. “Fifteen years ago?”
He shrugged. “I’ve filled out a bit since then. It was the first shirt I could find upstairs.”
“You had plenty of shirts at the guesthouse.”
His brown eyes darkened. “I couldn’t waste a single minute getting to you.”
Lily’s traitorous heart thawed the tiniest bit but fought it. Stay strong, she told herself. “What do you want, Jack?”
“You.”
She scoffed. “Well, duh. I know you want me. You couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
“Not just that, my Lily. I want you—all of you—forever.”
“Not forever. I’m a summer fling. Nadine said so.”
“You yourself said she was a liar.”
Lily bit her lip. “So are you.”
“Lying to you has been the biggest mistake of my life.”
She narrowed her eyes, trying to judge his sincerity. But what was she thinking? She had to get away, get out of France.
Where was that freaking train?
Jack held out his hand. “Please, Lily. Come back with me. No more secrets. You can meet my mother and she can tell you every embarrassing thing that ever happened to me and every shameful mistake I’ve ever made.”
“I can’t stay until Christmas, you know.” The quip slipped out before she remembered she was still furious with him.
He laughed but quickly turned serious. “You could,