1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hazel

"Great news! You're going to Paris," Jeff announces while flashing his million-dollar smile.

Okay. I might be exaggerating. As the editor-in-chief of an online food magazine, Jeff hardly makes millions. Though I know for a fact that he spent a small fortune on that new smile of his.

Wait, did he just say Paris?

He stares at me expectantly.

"Paris? Me? I thought Janet was going." She's the more senior writer between the two of us.

"Yeah," he says, scratching his forehead. "Well, Janet got engaged last night, so that kind of threw a wrench in our plans."

I frown. "I didn't even know she was dating."

"The whole thing happened pretty fast, apparently."

"Why can't she still go? Isn't it just a week-long trip?" I haven't paid much attention to the discussions around the Paris excursion since I knew I wasn't being considered, but I've heard Janet brag about spending a week in Paris with a list of ten restaurants to sample and critique.

"Well, yes and no. It's one week for starters, but more than that, I'm looking to deploy someone there permanently. Our French section garners half of the website's traffic, and I'm looking to develop it. Since you're the only team member without, um, roots here, I figured you'd be the perfect candidate."

Translation: the only one without a boyfriend or husband. Thanks for the reminder, Jeff.

He raises his eyebrows. "So, what do you think?"

"Wait. Do I have to give you an answer now?" How could I make such a big decision when I haven't even processed his offer yet? Moving to Paris, permanently ? I need more time. He can't ambush me like this.

"The restaurant reservations are all for next week. Of course, I can always send someone else—even Janet—but I'd rather it be someone who might be interested in relocating to Paris after the New Year. Someone in need of a fresh start. This first week would be a chance to dip your toes into the Seine, so to speak. See if you could envision yourself working there. Naturally, the transfer would come with a great relocation package and a promotion."

I nod. Okay, that I can do. I never make good decisions on the spot. I need time to digest the idea before committing. "I'll think about it."

"Take the rest of the day off," Jeff says, clasping his hands together. "And call me if you have any questions."

Someone in need of a fresh start. The only team member without roots. His words echo in my brain as I pick up my stuff and stride out of the building. He's not entirely wrong. My breakup with Neal hit me hard. Coming back from that dark place wasn't easy, but I did it.

I think.

The truth is, I've learned to appreciate being single. Maybe it's just not my time. I admit, I did try to force it at first. I've been on blind dates, suffered through double dates, set up an account on dating apps—the works. And I'm telling you, being stood up after squeezing into an uncomfortable shapewear and shaving your legs is not fun. Now that I've chosen to let it go, I'm much happier. This is the time to focus on myself and my career. My season of love will come . . . Probably.

I step outside, stifled by the warm Floridian air as I hop in my car to drive home. Soon, I pull in front of the apartment I share with my sister. Hey, that's a root!

Ivy is a nurse at a nearby hospital, and this week, she's working the night shift. When I push the front door open, she's eating breakfast at the kitchen table.

"Watchadoinhere?" she asks through a mouthful of food.

Dropping my keys in the entry bowl, I kick my shoes off and amble up to her.

"Jeff wants me to go to Paris."

Swallowing her oatmeal, she plasters a big smile on her face, which reminds me just how beautiful she is. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she gapes at me.

I've always been jealous of her hair. Hers is dark brown and wavy with copper highlights when mine is just a single shade of dull brown. You know those pictures on Pinterest that pop up when you search for hairstyles? Well, my sister could be one of those models. Her waves are sleek and shiny, and the rest of her is just as gorgeous. Of course her boyfriend doesn't feel the need to move to the other side of the world. Plus, she's a true Floridian who sports a bikini body all year long.

"Really?" she squeals.

I sigh, sitting down across from her. "Yeah. To try out restaurants for a week and write reviews, but also in the hopes I might move there."

"What?" she exclaims. Her face and tone don't carry the shock I expected. They're more excited. "That's amazing."

"Ready to ship me off, are you?" I sneer with a sarcastic edge.

She cocks her head to the side. "This is Paris we're talking about! Who wouldn't want to live there? I mean, sure, I'll miss you like crazy, blah blah blah. But Paris ! The City of Lights, the romance capital of the world. And the Frenchmen." She licks her lips. "Haze, you deserve a good, hot Frenchman after what happened with Neal. "

"You mean, after my boyfriend of two years dumped me to open a surf shop in Australia?"

She winces.

Yeah, ‘cause that happened. As if he couldn't have opened one right here in the Sunshine State. But that's not even the worst part. When he told me about his plan, I naively thought he was asking me to move to Sydney with him. While it wasn't ideal, we'd been dating for a while and were pretty serious. But when I asked about it, he said, "Hazel, you hate everything about sports. What would you do in a surf shop? Eat the boards?" Then, he patted me on the back and laughed. Laughed .

He's not wrong about the sport thing, and I admit, I am a curvy girl. But what can I say? My job requires me to eat.

"I don't know, Ivy," I mutter as I examine my nails, which are clearly in need of a manicure. "It's just so sudden."

She puts her spoon down and fixes her dark-green eyes on me. "You know the saying. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Well, when your job gives you the chance to go to Paris, score yourself a French guy with a beret and say merci . "

I burst into laughter. "As if that would ever happen. Are you crazy? Everyone is so skinny over there. If I can't get a man here, how on earth am I going to compete in Paris?"

"Exactly," she says, scooping up the last of her oatmeal. "You'll be exotic. French people love food. No, they worship it. I'm sure they don't mind a few curves."

I force a smile, but it falters. "Yeah . . . I guess."

Her shoulders drop. "Oh, come on. Think about all the fun you'd have there. Not only for a week, but imagine living there. All the amazing food, real bread that's crunchy on the outside but fluffy and warm on the inside, crêpes—you love crêpes—strolling on the Champs-Elysées, watching the Eiffel Tower sparkle at night, the incredible shopping you'd do there, the architecture. And did I mention the hot Frenchmen?"

She's got a point. I can almost picture myself wearing a striped sweater and a beret as I window-shop at the Galeries Lafayette, an accordion playing in the background. Quite a step up from Sawgrass Mills. It would be a fresh start, and except for Ivy, I really don't have anyone here. My only friends are Ivy's. Or Neal's. And guess who they sided with during the breakup? I don't care about finding a French beau, but I'll give Paris a try. For the food, the shopping, and the centuries-old architecture. And to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle at night. And anyway, I don't have to agree to the permanent job posting afterwards if I don't like it. I have nothing to lose.

"But what about you?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowed. "There's the apartment. You can't pay the rent by yourself."

She grimaces. "Well, Dan already lives here half the time, and he's been talking about us moving in together, so . . ."

I smirk. "So, it's the perfect opportunity to get rid of me?"

Her emerald eyes widen. "No! Of course not. I was just—"

I breathe a chuckle. "Relax, Ivy. I know what you mean. These past months haven't exactly been great for me. You're right. Maybe a change of scenery would do me some good."

She flashes me a bright smile. "You know what Audrey Hepburn says in Sabrina . Paris is always a good idea."