She pulled her hand back, reaching for her prosecco.
“We’d have agreements. Boundaries.” I leaned forward. “We’d both date other people outside of each other, but only for six months. Only while we’re in Paris. And it would be strictly physical. I can’t even imagine being in love with anyone else. This is just about... variety. Experience.”
“Variety,” she repeated flatly.
“Yes. Andthen we come back, and we appreciate each other even more. We’ll have gotten it out of our systems.” I tried to smile. “I’m suggesting this for us, babe. What do you think?”
Amelia took a long sip of her drink. “Did you suggest this because you want to sleep with someone you know?”
Simone’s face flashed in my mind. Her red lips, her knowing smile, the way she’d leaned forward during that video call. The promise in her voice when she saidanytime, day or night.
I wanted her. God, I wanted to know what she felt like, tasted like, sounded like. I wanted to unbutton that pink blouse and—
“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “It’s not about just one person. It’s about expanding our horizons. Experiencing life fully.”
I lied to Amelia. Why did I do that? But it was a white lie. It really was notonlyabout sleeping with Simone. It really was about being more mature about our relationship.
Amelia stirred her coffee slowly, the spoon clinking against the ceramic. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the space between us.
“Amelia, so, what do you think?”
She took a deep breath, lowered her eyes, and said quietly, “Okay.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
My heart leaped, but something in her voice—the flatness of it—made me hesitate. “Are you sure, honey? I don’t want you to feel pressured—”
She looked up at me then, and her eyes were clear. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“You can think about it more if you need to. Take your time—”
“I said yes, Mark.” A small smile crossed her lips, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Six months. In Paris. An open marriage. I understand the terms.”
I felt a rush of relief. Triumph, even. I’d gotten what I wanted.We were going to do this.
“I love you,” I said, reaching for her hand again. “This is going to be good for us. You’ll see.”
“I love you too,” Amelia said softly.
She picked up her fork and took a bite of her salad. We ate in silence, the happy chatter of other diners swirling around us, and I told myself this was the right decision.
We were going to Paris. We were going to explore. We were going to come back stronger.
CHAPTER 5
Amelia
The Paris skyline emerged through the airplane window like a postcard come to life—the Eiffel Tower rising elegant and unmistakable against the afternoon sky, the Seine snaking through the city in silver curves.
Mark squeezed my hand, smiling at me with that boyish excitement that had made me fall in love with him all those years ago.
“There it is,” he whispered. “The City of Love.”
I should have been thrilled. We were finally here, in the world’s most romantic city. Just the two of us, for six months of adventure and discovery.
Instead, my stomach churned with anxiety.
