My pulse spikes. “Oh my God, we could. What if…”
“What?” he prompts when I trail off, certain I’m being too crazy.
But hell, Nix and I run on crazy. We have from the start.
“What if we go to Paris?” I whisper, giddy excitement growing as he nods.
“Fuck yes,” he whispers back. “That’swhat I’m talking about. We should totally go to fucking Paris!”
“I don’t have anything going on at work those days that my staff can’t handle,” I say. “And we probablyneedto go to Paris. Our clothes are too fancy for New York or even London, really.”
He nods harder. “Agreed. Paris is the only thing that makes sense.”
I roll my eyes, giggling. “I mean, it doesn’t really. It will take an entire day to get there and an entire day back. We’ll only have three full days in the city.”
“But think of all the cheese we can eat in three days,” he says. “All the wine we can drink and the museums we can wander.” His eyes widen as he adds, “And if the opera has something on, we could do that, too. I can book a box and feel you up in the dark while someone sings really loudly in French.”
I grin harder. “Your fantasies crack me up sometimes.”
He hugs me closer, his voice husky as he says, “It won’t be funny in the moment, I promise.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” I murmur, that familiar zing coiling low in my body.
This man has me in a pretty much constant state of “zing” these days, and I have zero complaints. I honestly can’t get enough of him, and now we might be going to Paris.
“Even if we don’t do anything except go for a nice dinner here, I’d rather it just be us that weekend,” I say, twining my arms around his neck. “No exes. No drama. Just me, you, andbon temps.”
“That’s always a good time,” he agrees, making my heart plump in my chest.
Itisalways a good time.
And knowing we aren’t saying goodbye when our old “deal” is done is better than any revenge.
Way fucking better.
Later that night, after we get dinner at a bistro near Nix’s apartment, we grab Bea, her guitar, and her suitcase and head back to my place.
She’s going to stay with me while he’s on his trip with the Voodoo.
Just in case.
Even though miraculously, the plan she cooked up with Laurel, her publicist, seems to be going off without a hitch.
Laurel reached out to Kai and the rest of the band late last night. By early this morning, they’d all agreed to cancel the last two shows and enter a brief “mini retirement,” while presenting a united front.
Just after noon, Kai, Beatrice, Cab, the drummer, and Stavros, bass guitar, all released the same post on social media. It stated simply that they hated to let their fans down, but due to the needs of a chronically ill band member, they would be going on immediate sabbatical. All ticket sales for the Mobile and New Orleans shows would be fully refunded, and they hoped their fans could understand the need for privacy and healing at this delicate time.
It was simple, elegant, and shockingly easy.
Almost too easy, if you ask me, but I’ve kept my reservations to myself.
There’s no need to borrow trouble, and Beatrice won’t be alone if something goes wrong. I’ll be right there, with backup on hand from Makena and Elly, both of whom insisted on taking Beatrice out to brunch on Sunday to celebrate.
Everything’s going to be fine.
I hope.
“I’ll have my phone on twenty-four seven,” Nix says as he turns into my neighborhood. I swear, it’s like he can read my mind sometimes. “And I’ll check for messages as soon as I get off the ice between periods,” he continues. “If anything happens, I’ll get home to help as soon as I can.”
