Chapter Twenty-Four

Charlotte

Graham texted me his room number while I was in the shower, and I sighed when I saw it. He expected me there soon, so we could go together to the event, but I was running late now. It threw a wrench into my hastily laid plan.

I had hoped to talk to him before the event itself. To sit him down and explain what had happened, how I’d gotten here, and why I needed to break it off with him. If I could delay it a day, I would have, but with him making it seem like there was a possibility he might make some grand gesture tonight, I had to do it quickly or risk embarrassing him.

Graham didn’t deserve that. He was a nice man and had treated me well. I had no complaints about him. It was just that he wasn’t Jesse.

I couldn’t not tell him tonight. I had to figure it out. Maybe if I got dressed fast enough, I might catch him in the room still.

I put on the dress he’ left me but left the jewelry in their box. I’d pay him for the dress if he wanted, but he could return the earrings and necklace. Stuffing them into my purse, I got ready as quickly as I could, blow-drying my hair and digging through my bag to find the one emergency pair of pantyhose I kept tucked in there. Not going home and packing before this trip meant I was at the mercy of the clothes I’d brought to Foley, and I thought I might have an issue showing up in jeans.

I took a look at myself in the mirror and almost broke down again. This was a woman staring back at me who was about to risk everything. I was going to throw away a relationship that most women would kill for, all so I could find a way back to Texas and chase down a man who didn’t believe he was enough. A man with more problems than an algebra book. A man with a crooked smile, deep blue eyes, and a voice like velvet.

Keeping myself together as well as I could, I finished my makeup and slipped out of the room, heading to the one Graham had told me he was in. But when I got there and knocked, no one answered. I waited for a long moment, but he never came to the door, and my phone dinged again.

It was Graham. There was a limo waiting downstairs for me. He would meet me there.

Groaning, I reluctantly took the elevator down to the main floor. This hotel was even more opulent than the ones I’d worked in and fit the glamorous feel of Paris itself. Passing by women in fur and Chanelle, men in expertly tailored suits and tie clips that were worth more than my car, I made my way to the door leading outside.

A limo waited there for me, the driver holding a sign with my name. I acknowledged him and he opened a door for me to get inside. I spoke little French, but I knew how to say thank you. I hoped that would be enough.

The limo took me across town, and I had to keep from crying as I passed all the monuments, the museums and nightlife that I’d longed to see. It was as beautiful as I’d always envisioned it would be, and here I was riding through it but knowing I wouldn’t experience any of it. That I would leave tonight and perhaps never return.

But if it meant I was with Jesse, it would be worth it. That thought kept me from spilling tears. If I was wrapped in Jesse’s arms, not even Paris could pull me away from him.

I was surprised when the car parked at the side of a restaurant and the driver got out. He opened the door and said something in French I didn’t understand. I got out, and he shut the door behind me, going back to the driver’s side and driving away as I stood there, looking at the building in front of me.

There was no gala. No ball. No event.

He’d brought me to Paris to go to this restaurant. To propose.

A doorman was staring at me, waiting for me to walk up, but I was frozen on the streetcorner. How could this be my life? This gorgeous building, with the smell of fresh bread and browned butter filling the air, a restaurant that I was sure would be an experience I would never forget, was waiting for me. For me to walk inside and live the fairy tale that so many budget books at the bottom rack of bookstores everywhere spoke of. The handsome, wealthy man who swept the girl off her feet. Who brought her to romantic Paris and proposed over cheese and wine.

I’d read that book. It certainly didn’t end with the girl leaving the handsome businessman for a cowboy.

“Mademoiselle?”

I looked up to see the doorman, who had taken a few steps toward me cautiously.

“Sorry,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Speak English?” he asked in a thick accent, his eyebrows raising high in hopes I would say yes.

I nodded.

“I do,” I said.

“Ah, pardon. English is not strong. Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Are you for here?”

I nodded again.

“Please,” he said, opening the door, smiling, and bowing a little.

I took my first step toward the building, and my eyes brushed across the tall, dark windows. In one of them, I saw a familiar shape. Graham, sitting at a table, an empty seat across from him, a bottle of wine between the two seats and his glass partially full. He swirled the wine like he always did, then took a sip.

He was preparing for a monumental moment in his life. And I was going to ruin it for him.

Miserably, I took the remaining steps to the door and walked through, the doorman shutting it behind me.

I had to steel myself. I had to do what was right, no matter what. No matter how scary or sad it was. I had to do the right thing.

Because at the end of the day, I was in love. But not with Graham.

With Jesse James Galloway.

And I needed to go home.