Dree
“I’m not crying,” Dree said, holding her dead phone in her hand and surreptitiously smearing her wet face on her shoulder.
“You’re crying,” Augustine said, his voice lowered to a growl. He was so hot when he scowled like that, which seemed odd to Dree. Usually, she freaked out when men got mad at her. He asked, “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing,you didn’t do anything. You were great. No, you weremagnificent.”An amazing fragrance had filled the air while she was talking, something like baking pastries smothered with the best kind of Irish butter that she’d only bought once because it was too expensive.“What is that smell?”
“Croissants,” Augustine said, holding out the pink box. “You said it was your first time in Paris. You should eat croissants in Paris.”
Her lack of breakfast in the hotel room embarrassed her, and she felt like she shouldn’t let him go out of his way to give her something. “I—I appreciate that, but you didn’t have to.”
He shrugged. “My favorite café was near—where I was, so I picked some up. I also promised to buy you a new coat today.”
“You only said that to stop me from going back inside the Buddha Bar.”
His slow smile was sexy as hell. “Yes, but a promise is a promise.”
The weird shakiness in her chest subsided. “I was going to go back down there and see if they found it. I really liked that coat. And if they didn’t find it, like you said, it’s not that cold. It’s just a little ‘fresh.’ I don’t really need a coat.”
“You were freezing last night. I say, do you mind if I come inside? Standing out in the corridor like this is odd.”
“You weren’t supposed to come back,” she told him.
He shook the box again. “But I brought you croissants.”
“Fair enough. Come on in. I mean, it was really nice of you to offer to share your croissants with me, but you don’t have to.” She stood aside so he could come in. “I have coffee.”
“I brought you some of that, too. Do you have a table?”
She locked the door behind him. “I have a countertop.”
He set the boxes and cups on the table and held the flowers out to her. Ivory roses and white Narcissus blooms filled the brown paper cone. “To celebrate your first trip to Paris.”
She stared at the flowers for a moment, gathering herself. Francis had never brought her such extravagant flowers, and he was the one who was supposed to be here in Paris with her, buying her flowers and seeing it together.
After nearly a year with Francis, marrying him had seemed inevitable.
Instead, this beautiful, impossible man had brought her flowers and breakfast in Paris.
He tilted his head. “You’re crying again.”
“I am not,” she said, wiping her face on her tee shirt again. She gulped some air and said, “The flowers are just so beautiful that they caught me off guard. And it was so nice of you to bring me croissants.” She took the flowers, the paper crackling in her fingers. “I’ll put these in some water. I really do appreciate them, Augustine.”
His smile was wary. “Are we still doing the ‘Augustine’ thing?”
“Yes.” She found a plastic water pitcher among the assorted useless things in the kitchen cabinets and filled it with water for the flowers. “Yes, and I don’t want to talk about why. Don’t tell me who or what you really are. Just be a mystery, okay?”
“All right,” he said, though he was still frowning, and his eyebrows still pinched together.
“It’s not about you,” she said. “It’s about me. I just don’t want to be me anymore. I want to be somebody,anybodyelse. I want to be a superhero or a princess in disguise.”
His dark eyebrows twitched.
She continued, “But I’m pathetic and stupid, and I want to be anybody else, so you can be someone else, too. Otherwise, I’d feel bad about lying to you.”
Augustine closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t think I’m following your logic.”
“That’s because there isn’t any. Just accept it, okay? Let’s just do it.”
