add.
“Why not?”
“It’s a bit much to ask of you.”
“Oh no. Go, honey. The boys and I are having a great time. It’s no difference to me when you get home.”
“Really?” I frown.
“Yes, I’m loving the quality time I’m getting with the boys. Let off some steam and have some fun, Claire. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”
“But what about Patrick? He’ll be fretting.”
“He’s fine and happy, Claire, and, I hate to say it, not missing you at all.”
I smile as hope blooms in my chest. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Oh.” I pause as my mind wanders off on a million tangents. “I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know tomorrow; is that okay?”
“Of course. It must be late there. Get some sleep, and call me tomorrow. But I say go for it. Paris is beautiful, and you’ve never been.”
“Maybe.” I shrug.
“Goodbye.” She hangs up.
In a daze I walk into the bathroom and run the hot water. I need a hot bath to think about this.
An hour later I sit forward and turn the tap off once more. I fill the bath up, let it cool down, let some water out, and repeat the process. My mind is ticking at a million miles per minute.
Tristan is a soul-sucking bastard who left without even a goodbye.
But then . . . he sent roses.
But I don’t want roses, because that’s not who we are . . . but maybe he was just being nice because he couldn’t say goodbye properly?
He’s a bastard . . . but he’s a fun bastard. Or maybe that was just an act, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
Oh God, I’m so confused.
If I go to Paris, I’m guaranteed laughter and fun.
If I don’t go, there’s no chance of me getting attached to him.
He’s a player. He probably has ten girlfriends. He is not the kind of man you get attached to.
But he’s so fun.
Over the last two nights we have laughed and laughed, and it felt good, even if I knew it was only temporary—just in that moment, it felt really good.
There’s absolutely no chance of a future or anything; I already know that. We’re from two different worlds.
Am I okay to spend a weekend with someone knowing that? I think on it for a moment.
I’ve had enough heartache. Maybe it’s time to throw caution to the wind. Maybe it’s time to just . . . no, it’s just safer not to go. I mean, what’s the point?
Why prolong what was only a one-night thing? We already extended it to two nights. That’s enough.
My phone rings, and the name Tristan lights up the screen. Oh fuck.
I close my eyes and answer. “Hello.”
“Anderson.”
A broad smile crosses my face just at the sound of his voice. “What do you want?” I tease.
He chuckles. “I’m calling to see if you got my gift in your room.”
“Oh.” I smirk. “I haven’t; I’m in Nelson’s room.”
“What the fuck? You better not be.” It’s loud where he is, like a bar or something.
I giggle. “They’re lovely.”
“So?” he asks.
“So what?”
“Come to Paris. Spend the weekend with me.”
I stay silent.
“It’s one of my favorite cities. I can show you around. We can go sightseeing.”
“I thought you were working?”
“Only tomorrow morning.” I hear ice tumble into a glass.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“At the hotel bar.”
“Trolling for your next victim?” I tease.
“Nobody here has what I want.”
I bite my lip as I listen to him.
“You have what I want, Claire.”
“You’re not going to get all sentimental and needy on me, are you?”
“I don’t do sentimental and needy.” He chuckles. “Down and dirty is more my thing.”
I smile goofily. “I don’t know if I can change my flights.”
“I’ll organize our jet to pick you up.”
“You have a plane?” I frown.
“Company plane.”
I stay silent as I think.
“Well?”
“Thank you for the roses,” I whisper to change the subject.
“That’s okay. They were being thrown out from reception, and I didn’t want to waste them. My good deed for the day.”
I smile at his appalling lie.
“Come on, Anderson; don’t make me beg.”
“Fine.”
“Fine . . . as in it’s a chore?” He scoffs. “At least act enthusiastic.”
“I can’t wait to spend the weekend underneath you, Mr. Miles.”
He laughs out loud. “That a girl. I’ll call you tomorrow with the flight times.”
“Okay.”
“Oh . . . and, Claire,” he says, as if it’s an afterthought.
“Yes.”
“Do your Kegel exercises tonight. I want that pussy nice and tight.”
I burst out laughing. “You are an idiot.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Goodbye, Tristan.” I smile.
The phone goes dead.
I throw my