Sparks - Wendy Higgins Page 0,89
a private plane and we ate cheesesteak.”
Willa let out a giant laugh. “You are hilarious.” She eyed me. They all eyed me.
“Wait, are you serious?” Holly asked.
“I’m so serious. It was super sexy and intense and—”
“Did you or did you not have sex again?” Cheryl blurted, making everyone’s mouths pop open.
“No,” I admitted. “Not even a kiss. But the cheesesteak was amazing.”
Everyone fell over groaning and pretending to cry and have tantrums. I tried to explain everything, and it sounded lame, even to my ears.
“You’re trying to protect yourself,” Rhea said. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s smart. A lot of stuff is happening at once.”
“So, what will you do now?” Holly asked.
“Be single, I guess. Let Shawn get married. Let Silas get divorced. And then we’ll see.” I peered around at their sympathetic faces. “In the meantime, I’m going to Paris.”
“What?” The whole room erupted, and everyone sat up, their eyes bugging out.
“With who?” Holly asked.
I shrugged. “By myself.”
“A solo trip,” Cheryl said. “That will be really good for you. Though, I feel like I’m missing some news here.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, sighing. “We need to catch you up.” My head flopped back in exhaustion at the thought of reliving all of that again.
“I’ll tell you everything in a little bit,” Holly promised her.
“I’ve been to Paris several times,” Rhea said. “My mom is fluent. I can explain the metro system—I’ll pull up the map—and show you some restaurants that are affordable and off the beaten path. You’ll need to be really careful of pick-pockets, though.”
I sat up, my nerves kicking in. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea to go alone.”
“I couldn’t do it,” Syd admitted.
“No, no.” Rhea turned on the couch and faced me, full on. “You can do this. It’s a pretty safe city for tourists…other than the stealing thing. This is a good opportunity for you to focus on yourself and reset.”
Cheryl was nodding.
“And,” Willa said, waggling her eyebrows. “French men.”
“Ooh-la-la!” Syd said, making everyone laugh.
I smiled but shook my head. “No men.”
“That’s right,” Holly said. “No men. Focus on the food.”
“Oh, my God.” Rhea’s eyes rolled back. “The food!”
“You right, you right,” Willa conceded. “But if you see a fine cocoa Frenchman…” She raised her brows.
“I’ll snap a picture for you.” I smiled around the room. “Do any of you want to come with me?”
“When are you leaving?” Holly asked.
“Day after tomorrow. I need to call and set it all up.”
She made a face and shook her head. “You know you won’t get any pay while you’re gone. No leave time yet.”
“I know,” I said. “My parents are giving me a stack of savings bonds to cash in. That’s the only way I could afford to do this. And flying with our discount, of course.”
“Can’t beat a twenty-dollar trip to Paris,” Holly agreed. Then she patted my hand. “You’ll do fine. But you need to check in every day. Post your pictures so we can see that you’re okay.”
I agreed. “I’m nervous to call work. What if they try to fire me for asking for time off already?”
Holly shook her head. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Call and see. I’ll be here with you.”
I dialed work and the grumpy dispatcher answered. “Um, hi Dena. It’s Harlow Robinson.”
“Yeah?” she said.
For a second I nearly lost my nerve, but Holly nodded for me to go on. “I’m wondering what crew I’m flying with tomorrow?”
“Russo didn’t request you, if that’s what you’re asking. He took the next three days off. Still want me to look?”
My stomach plummeted, and I felt myself frown. Three days off. Just as I’d known would happen.
“No.” My voice sounded grainy. “Actually, my main reason for calling is that I need to take a week off for personal reasons, starting the day after tomorrow.”
“Ooh.” Her voice sounded doubtful. “Let me look.”
She clicked around. “I can give you six days. Will that do?”
“Yes!” I smiled and nodded at Holly, who pretended to silently cheer. And then I blurted, “I’m going to Paris!” and immediately wished I hadn’t said it.
“Paris?” the dispatcher asked. “You ever been there in early spring?”
“No. This will be my first time. I’m going alone.”
“Hm. Well. It’s chilly. Wear layers. And scarves. They’re all about the scarves.”
“Have you been?” I asked her, surprised for some reason. I imagined her living in her dispatcher box.
“I have.” Her voice sounded wistful and I tried to picture her smiling. “Favorite place on Earth.”
“Want to come with me?” I joked.
That made her laugh,