“Holy shit. J-fresh is so romantic! You did good, sis. Now send me a picture of the ring or I’ll kill you.”
She laughed.
“Well actually, before I hang up, there’s one more thing. Jason and I were thinking of having an engagement party in a month or so. I was going to ask you to help host it, since you’re obviously my maid of honor, but you’re halfway across the world, so I guess that’s not possible.”
I flinched at the hurt in her voice. I’d completely left behind all of my responsibilities in LA. My big sister—AKA the only family I had left—was getting married, and I knew I should be there with her, helping her plan her wedding, not halfway across the world.
I bit back my regret and spoke up.
“No. No. I can help plan it while I’m here. I’ll search for some invitations and email you the links so you can pick your favorite.”
“And do you think you’ll fly back for it?” she asked.
I thought of my bank account and how little it had grown since taking the teaching job. The program paid me enough to live and eat, but I hadn’t saved a dime since arriving in Paris. If I went home for the engagement party, chances were that I wouldn’t have enough money to fly back to Paris.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know soon,” I answered, not wanting to get her hopes up.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Traveling to Paris was supposed to solve my problems. I had dreams of establishing a home base, working my way up in a firm, and coming into my own in the City of Light. Instead, I felt like I’d carried all of my problems with me overseas. I didn’t feel any more self-sufficient than before. I was still mad as hell that Grayson had gone behind my back, meddling in my life time and time again. I’d lied on the phone with Brooklyn: I missed him like crazy and the real reason I wasn’t enjoying Paris was because I didn’t think I was meant to be there without him. I wanted to be sampling crepes with Grayson. I wanted to be exploring the architecture with him by my side. I wanted him to take my hand as we strolled across the gardens and direct me into a hidden cafe so we could share an afternoon cappuccino while we rested our feet.
I thought of him every day, but most of all, I thought of him when I visited the Eiffel Tower. I sat on the grass, marveling at the monument’s immense structure, and the only thing it reminded me of was the way Grayson had looked during our interview. The way his blue eyes had held me captive from across the desk, stealing my heart as if it was the simplest thing he’d ever done.
Two months without seeing him was enough time for me to go back and forth about my feelings time and time again. One day I’d wake up and miss him so much that I’d lay in bed pulling up old text messages and rereading every word he’d ever sent to me. Other times, I’d remember an email about a scholarship or an interview he’d negotiated, and I’d feel so angry with him that I had to stop myself from dialing his number and berating him. Most days, I fluctuated between loving and hating him at least thirty times (and that was all before I’d had my coffee).
It was perplexing to work through such polar opposite feelings for one person… especially when at the end of the day, Grayson was the one human on the entire planet that I knew I couldn’t live without. He was intimidating and passionate, creative and intense. He taught me to love architecture and he inspired me to pursue my dreams, so why couldn’t I forgive him for overstepping his bounds?
Why couldn't I realize that being with Grayson wouldn’t mean that I was completely giving up my independence?
I missed him so much that a week before I was scheduled to fly back to LA for Brooklyn’s engagement party, I’d even managed to convince myself that his actions were somewhat noble. It wasn’t as if he’d been secretly sabotaging me. He’d been a guardian angel of sorts, ensuring that there weren’t any obstacles blocking my path. Could I really hate him for that?
Maybe a little, but not enough to stay away any longer.
…
Arriving back home in LA felt similar to when I’d first arrived in France. I had no place to call home, no money to my name, no job, and Grayson and I weren’t speaking. As terrifying as all of that was, the final detail was by far the hardest to stomach.
It felt just about as shitty as you could imagine to return home having failed at your dream. All I had to show for my two-month stint abroad was a smattering of French words and a purse full of Parisian chocolate. Some people would have been ashamed, but I was above that. You see, I had consumed copious amounts of alcohol during the long, long flight home and I couldn’t actually find the will to care about anything, let alone the fact that I was a giant loser with no job and a boyfriend who wasn’t actually a boyfriend, but rather someone I hadn’t spoken to in two months.