Chapter 9

“You want us to go where? ” Jillian asked, looking slightly pale.

I couldn’t blame her. I’d expected to hit Notre Dame today and maybe the Arc de Triomphe. But we stood on a small street in front of what looked like a row of regular houses.

“Underground,” Hunter said. “Today I’m showing you the catacombs, my very favorite part of the city.”

I stared at him in disbelief. With all the culture surrounding us, the guy with the history degree wanted to see thousands of skeleton parts?

He laughed at my expression. “I know, but seriously. You’ll be glad you went.”

Moments later we checked in, bypassing the tour headsets, and found ourselves facing a long stairwell leading downward. Paris seemed determined to march me down every flight of stairs it could. Except this one didn’t extend hundreds of feet into the air. Instead, it went several stories underground—and it had a dark creepiness to go along with it.

Jillian looked down the stairwell and shivered. “Not sure this is my thing, Hunter.”

“Just wait till you see it. ”

After a few minutes, I thanked my lucky stars for the electricity powering the lights at each landing because I couldn’t imagine descending beneath the streets of Paris in the pitch dark.

As the air around us grew colder and wetter and I focused on taking one step after another down the stairs, Hunter gave us some background.

“Like with many other European cities, these tunnels started with the Gauls, conquered by the Romans almost two thousand years ago,” he said. “The early settlers pulled limestone from the ground to build the city above, and the Romans built sewers down here as the city grew. There are still remnants of a Roman section of the city beneath Notre Dame if you find the time to see them. Over time, as the city grew and the buildings got heavier, the underground began to cave in. So a city architect was assigned to reinforce it using crude cement made from the well water they pulled down here.”

I couldn’t help it. I simply stared at Hunter as he spoke, his presence commanding and in full tour-guide mode. His love for the city seeped into every word. No wonder he’d done so well at this job. It was impossible not to listen.

“Fascinating,” Alexis said, covering a yawn.

I hid a smile. Okay, maybe not so impossible for some. But my inner history geek was thrilled to be here, though I would die before I let Hunter know it. “How big is this, exactly?”

“We’ll see about a mile, but the tunnels cover roughly 195 miles. Most of those are sealed off.”

“Good,” Jillian muttered.

“This section is the most decorated, but there’s a lot more down here you won’t get to see,” Hunter said. “Old Nazi bunkers from World War II, a resistance bunker not far from that, and even the remnants of Gaulia Brewery, an underground structure few know about. A friend took me down to see it. It’s really something, all covered in modern graffiti art.”

That piqued my interest. “Why can’t we see it?”

“Only cataphiles know how to get to it, and it requires hours of sloshing through groundwater and squeezing through a tunnel small enough to make you claustrophobic for life.”

“Already there,” Jillian said, and I gave her a side hug.

“Cataphiles,” Alexis said, perking up. “Are those, like, underground experts?”

“Unofficially, yes. There are police, too, and they work to keep the most dangerous sections sealed off. Even gangs. It’s a whole world down here. After you.” He stepped back to let us walk through a doorway with a sign over it.

“What does it say?” I asked, trying to tap into what little French I still remembered.

“‘Stop. This is the empire of death,’” Hunter said. “If anyone wants to obey, speak now and I’ll take you back up.”

Jillian looked positively sick, but when I gave her a questioning look, she shook her head. “No way. We came this far. Let’s do this.”

“Very well.” Hunter led us beyond the door, and I soon forgot about the musty smell as I stepped into a whole new albeit strangely creepy world. I hadn’t added this place to the list for a reason. Jillian’s claustrophobia, for one thing, but also because it seemed the opposite of romantic.

“Whoa,” I breathed a second later. An entire wall of human bones greeted us with skulls creating an eye-catching border. It held back a massive pile of other bones, more sporadic in their placement. There had to be hundreds, maybe thousands of skeletons in this one room alone.

Hunter’s eyes met mine before I could hide my interest. I saw a victorious glint I instantly resented. “Early in the city’s history, they dumped corpses into mass graves, but they soon ran out of space in the cemetery. They had nowhere to bury their dead. There was even a storm that flooded the city, sending bodies floating along the streets. That was the last straw, so they decided to use what remained of the old limestone quarries as a new burial site. They relocated them here under cover of night, and some, shall we say, more creative individuals decided to arrange them like this.”

“How many bodies are we talking?” I asked.

“Paris has over two million residents. Experts estimate there are three times that down here.”

“Six million skeletons?” Jillian repeated in horror.

“Yes, although they aren’t exactly intact.”

For once, Alexis looked completely engaged. “Imagine how many ghosts are hanging out down here. It’s a haunted playground.”

I nodded. “Empire of death, indeed.” Not romantic, per se, but charming in a morbid sort of way.

We followed Hunter through narrow corridors and wide, dully lit hallways as we examined the artistic creations of people who lived centuries ago. As we walked deeper into the underground corridors, I couldn’t help but gaze upward at the rock overhead. It looked all too precarious. Good thing I wasn’t claustrophobic. Jillian, on the other hand, looked as pale as a corpse. After twenty minutes, I hung back to walk with her and let the others go on ahead.

“You doing okay?” I asked. “That’s a silly question, isn’t it? ”

“Yes, and no, I’m not okay. But I’m seeing this through. Don’t worry about me.” Her pale skin couldn’t hide her determined expression. I was proud of her.

Hunter materialized next to me. “Jillian, Alexis told me about your claustrophobia. I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you like that.” He offered an arm. “I’ll stay by your side the rest of the tour.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got her,” I said.

He pursed his lips. “Even so, I’ll stay nearby in case she needs me.”

“There’s nothing you can do for her that I can’t as her sister ,” I pointed out. “Besides, I’m a little tired of hearing promises from you that you don’t intend to keep.”

Hunter looked me deeper in the eye than he had in a long time. “I swore to show you the best parts of Paris, Kennedy. I’m keeping that promise.”

I’ll make sure you see all of it, Neddie. I swear it. A promise from another lifetime.

It spilled out before I could stop it. “You also swore to be there for me, and we both know how that turned out.”

“Guys,” Jillian moaned. “Do you seriously have to do this now?”

“Yes,” I said at the same time that Hunter said, “No.”

I sighed, letting some of the steam fizzle away. Maybe this discussion should take place later, away from Jillian’s ears. In case he talked about other things that happened between us. I changed tactics. “I’m sure you mean well, Hunter. It’s just that we have limited time here, and I want to make sure we get all the most important parts in.”

“That’s right. I forgot how you were for a second.”

Oh, it was on. “How I am? What do you mean by that?”

“I only meant,” Hunter said, “that you have to control everything. It’s your way or the highway, and anyone who diverges from your plan is morally lacking. I bet your sisters wanted me to show them around so they’d actually have a say.”

“He isn’t wrong,” Jillian said.

I stopped and whirled on him. “I don’t have to control anything. As a former travel agent, I have access to more information than most. That’s all.”

His expression was infuriatingly calm. “Have you even asked your sisters what they wanted to see?”

“Nope,” Jillian replied. When I turned on her, she shrugged. “I’m going on ahead. You two work this out and meet me when you’re done.”

Hunter lifted his hand as she left, as if to say, “Point made.”

I tried to shove my anger down again. It didn’t quite work. In four days, we’d pack our bags for the Italy cruise and I’d likely never see Hunter again. “Look, this trip is supposed to bring us together as sisters, and it isn’t exactly going well. Please don’t make it worse.”

His chest rose and fell as he took it in. “You’re right,” he finally said. “You only want them to have a memorable trip, just like I want for you. We should have discussed the plan first.”

The old Hunter rarely gave in so easily. His admission disarmed me, and I felt the tension in my shoulders release. “I wasn’t very eager to talk to you about anything, I’ll admit.”

“I thought you’d stab me with your dinner knife last night.”

Chuckling to myself, I imagined it and thoughtfully pursed my lips. “It isn’t too late. We’ll have to eat again at some point. ”

“Remind me to put a couple sisters between us at the table.”

We laughed, and the rest of the tension between us drained away. It felt like some small version of what we once had, only in a strangely dark and twisted setting instead of the glaring, expansive Arizona desert.

“Clearly we need to talk about the texts,” he began. “Kennedy, I’m really sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You made your position clear.” As in, I’d broken down the night my mom passed and finally texted Hunter, begging him to come home—only for him to respond with, I’m sorry for your loss, but I can’t come home right now.

A few days later, I received a photography book about Paris in the mail. That was it.

Then I’d listened to town gossip, found out about his fiancée, and felt more foolish than ever. I’d essentially yanked my bleeding heart from my chest and placed on the table in front of him—and he’d chosen to walk away.

A girl didn’t simply recover from that.

As we reached a series of arches with dramatic lighting, he headed me off. “Look, Kennedy. Things may have changed between us, and I know you’re angry about what happened, but I still want this trip to be everything you’ve dreamed of. I really do.” He paused. “If this trip can’t be all those things with me in the picture, though, then so be it. I’ll step aside.”

I stood there in a damp corridor lit by weak electric lights and smelling of dead people and tourist sweat, and examined the person who once understood me best in the whole world. His eyes still felt like home, even now, after everything. I knew that if he touched me, I would feel the same electric sensation I’d felt eight years ago and then again four years ago.

He took in my expression and the frustration in his face fled. “Kennedy, why are you really here? What’s going on?”

I couldn’t answer that. Not only because of the inheritance, but because it required baring my heart to him, and I knew better than to take that risk again.

No, the distance between us came down to one simple fact, the result of his betrayal.

I’m afraid.

I didn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t the darkness surrounding us, or the millions of skeletons-turned-ghosts, or even the responsibility on my shoulders to keep my sisters safe that gripped my heart now. The low ceilings could rip free and threaten to squash me flat, but I’d still be more scared of my last memory with him.

The day I felt completely helpless in his arms, weak against his strong embrace. The day I found out what a real kiss felt like. The day decades of friendship turned into something more, something deeper, something inevitable and powerful and life-changing. The day I knew I would never love anyone else like I loved Hunter Morrison, not in a thousand lifetimes.

The day I found out none of that mattered because it was too late.

Clearing my throat, I banished the memory and the emotions it brought. “My mom and I made a list before she went. Alexis and Jillian don’t know about it.” I pulled the list from my pocket and began to unfold it. Written in mechanical pencil on notebook paper, it looked a little smudged, the edges worn.

“A list of places to see?” Hunter watched me open the page and scan its contents. To his credit, he looked curious but didn’t crane his head to read the words. “Kennedy, I intend to fulfill every single of them. Just say the word.”

I couldn’t help but skim the text. The handwritten title read, “Romantic Moments I Want to Experience in Paris.” Mom had crossed out the word want and replaced it with deserve in her firm hand.

Romantic Moments I Want Deserve to Experience:

· A selfie at the Eiffel Tower

· A walk along a cobblestone street in the rain

· Critiquing a Monet painting together

· Admiring the stained-glass windows at Notre Dame

· Being admired while descending an elegant staircase

· A dinner cruise and kiss on the Seine

· Holding hands at the Paris Opera House

· A romantic French dinner

· Being serenaded at the airport

I instantly felt foolish. A bucket list of places to see would have made sense. But a list of romantic experiences I wanted to have, pulled from my favorite movies? It felt so childish.

He’s probably done every one of these things with Collette.

I let myself picture it for a sliver of a second, then stuffed the paper back into my pocket. “Never mind.” I eased around him to follow my sisters down what remained of the tunnel.

After a long moment, he jogged after me and fell into stride at my side. I could almost hear the questions in his mind. To his credit, he asked none of them.

Time to change the subject to safer ground. “Hunter, there’s someone else I may be spending some time with on this trip. This whole tour guide thing? It can only work as long as you’re okay with that.”

“Someone else. Oh. That’s good.” A heavy clearing of his throat. “So you met someone, then.”

Sort of? Technically. “It’s fairly new.”

“Ah. Is he from back home?”

I kept my voice light. “No, he’s from here. Speaks English, thankfully. My French is atrocious.”

“I get plenty of practice, and I still struggle with it sometimes.” He walked too easily, sounded too relaxed. “I’m glad you’re happy, Kennedy. I really am.”

Happy. Yes. I was totally happy. Who wouldn’t be, with the news of an inheritance on the horizon and the possibility of moving to Paris? Any woman spending time touring Europe with her sisters, all expenses paid, would be ecstatic. I even had a handsome French man waiting to show me around town. There was plenty to be happy about.

Maybe if I reminded myself enough times, I’d start to believe it.

“Thank you,” I said, hopefully managing to hide my thoughts behind a blank expression. There would be no point in asking about his dating life. He didn’t wear a wedding ring yet because he and his fiancée, Collette, weren’t married yet. Hunter’s parents hadn’t flown to Paris, nor had Collette flown to Arizona. The entire town would have known. Jillian would have live-streamed it, if she had her way.

But it would surely happen soon, which meant this week was my last chance to spend time with my best friend.

“Are you happy?” I asked quietly.

“Of course. I’m in Paris.” His pitch seemed too high to be natural, but it could have been my imagination. Then Hunter checked his watch before picking up the pace, forcing me to hurry to keep up.

I didn’t blame him. I wanted out of this conversation too.

Soon the light ahead revealed a wider area with a group of people standing around. Jillian and Alexis stood among them, whispering to each other. Jillian looked better, at least. The door to a stairwell lay beyond.

“That’s the tour,” Hunter said, his voice too cheerful. “I’m glad none of you got snatched by the dead. They usually get one or two tourists per day.”

Just then, a skeleton jumped out from behind a column of skulls and shrieked like a banshee.

Jillian yelped and threw herself behind Alexis, who released a delighted squeal. The group of tourists broke into heavy laughter, some whipping out their cameras.

A second later, the skeleton ripped off his plastic skull head. A bearded man stood there in a black bodysuit with a white skeleton printed on it, grinning at the group.

“My coworker,” Hunter explained, approaching the man. “Well timed, Alphonse.” They bumped fists and chuckled at the expressions on my sisters’ faces.

“Glad they were the right ones,” Alphonse said. “The wife would’ve been angry if I got myself fired for doing you a favor.”

Jillian folded her arms. “That was not funny, Hunter.”

Hunter watched me. “Then why is Kennedy smiling?”

I tried to hide the giant grin on my face, but I couldn’t. The memory of the sheer terror on Jillian’s face would fuel me for a very long time. “Sorry, Jillie.”

“Sure you are. I’m going to the gift shop upstairs.” She stomped toward the exit.

I turned to Alexis. “You okay?”

She glowed. “All the respect. The prank king is back.” She gave Hunter and Alfonse high-fives before following Jillian out.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I whipped it out to find a simple, concise message from Claude. I had called him last night and left a voicemail with details of my budget and what I wanted but hadn’t heard anything until now.

Send me the address of your hotel, and I will pick you up at 14:00 tomorrow. I have three homes to show you. If we have time afterward, I would be pleased if you could join me for drinks. I would very much like to know you better.

If stomachs could tingle, mine did. A handsome French guy wanted to know me better over drinks? That certainly sounded promising.

I grinned and typed a quick reply, agreeing to the plan before putting the phone away and heading for the exit. Hunter followed the movement, staring at the pocket housing my phone with blatant curiosity.

I felt his eyes on my back the entire way out.