"Would you like some more coffee or dessert?"

After briefly looking down at my now empty plate and coffee cup, I glanced up to the manager of La Rose De Baguette. "I'll have some more coffee, please. Thanks."

"Right away, mademoiselle."

Once he was gone, I leaned back in my chair and watched the people that were walking by on the street.

So many people. All of them living different lives with different stories. It was funny, actually. You never realized how much you didn't know about someone until you were going through something similar to what I was going through.

People would smile and wave as they passed me, but they had no idea that I recently lost my mom and ran away because I couldn't accept or deal with it. No idea at all. So I just smiled and waved back. I wondered if some of those people were going through something like what I was. Have they lost a loved one recently and were just putting up a facade? A mask to the world saying that everything was okay?

But when you were alone, the mask was off. And everything was definitely not okay. Alone is when my grief hit me the hardest. Sometimes it crippled me.

Whenever that happened, I would try to force myself to think of something else. I would try to push my conscientiousness to a place where there was no grief. No pain that lacerated my heart.

The only problem was, whatever I managed to get to that place I tended to not get out of the bed for days. Food and water went ignored. The days blurred by and I never knew one from the other. What usually pulled me out of it was Danielle calling me or coming by my place and dragging me out of my bed and feeding me.

I just couldn't keep doing that anymore. I couldn't stay in that apartment anymore. What I needed was to get away, to go somewhere where I could deal with this on my own terms.

Picking Paris as my runaway destination probably wasn't the smartest idea, though. This beautiful city was a place that my mom had always wanted to come to. As soon as I stepped off that plane, it was almost like I felt her walking beside me. I was a second away from going to the customer service desk and asking for a new plane ticket somewhere else. But I ended up not doing that. Good reasons or not, I chose this place.

When something to the right caught my eye, I turned to get a better look. There was a young man walking up to people in the cafe handing out flyers for something. Curious, I took one when he got to my table.

"Thanks," I said to him before looking to see what it was.

The flyer was for an art show three weeks from now. I wasn't too familiar with the area, but it didn't seem like it was too far from here. Probably within walking distance from my hotel.

The flyer made me think of Ollie. For a second, I wondered where he moved when he left the country. He never said and I never asked.

Thinking about him now reminded me of the last time I heard his voice. Completely overwhelmed by everything that was going on that night, I reached out to him like a lifeline. I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted or needed from him, but I was just hoping for something.

Hearing another girl's voice was definitely not what I was hoping to hear that night.

I was so surprised and put off by it-and my reaction-that I didn't give Ollie time to explain. Instead, I shut my phone off and haven't spoken to him since.

A small part of me was curious where he was and what he was doing. Another part of me was still trying to figure out why I reacted the way I did and why he had such an effect on me.

The latter made a very specific memory come to mind...

"You smell like chocolate cake. With vanilla frosting."

Ollie grinned and poked my nose with his finger. "That's two compliments tonight. We should get you drunk more often. Makes you much more enjoyable."

I knew his words would have pissed me off if I wasn't drunk off my ass, but I was. So instead of responding with my usual smartass retort, I went a different route.

"You said you wanted to know something real about me..."

"Jamie, you don't have to. It's fine. I'm sorry I pushed you before."

Great. Now he sounded caring and concerned again. Sober me wouldn't like that. But I wasn't sober right now. At all.

"Jamie is a nickname," I whispered. When he frowned I added, "My real name...is Guinevere."

"Guinevere." His eyes slid shut when he said my name, as if he were tasting the syllables on his lips. "It suits you."

"I hate it, actually. Except when you say it."

"Maybe I should say it again then."

"Maybe you should." God, what was I saying?

He ran his hands up my arms, my shoulders, my neck. Then he stopped when he cupped my face in his hands. "What do you want, Guinevere?"

I tried to get the words out. Tried to tell him what I really wanted. But I just couldn't bring myself to say it. A part of me felt like saying it would open a door for the two of us. A door that was going to lead somewhere that I wasn't sure I was ready to go again. With anyone.

Ollie's voice was throaty and low. Sexy. "Your eyes...Christ. I can see exactly what you want in your eyes. They're practically begging me for it. But I still need you to tell me, Guinevere. What do you want? I need to hear the words."

My heart was racing as I swallowed the lump in my throat. And even though my voice came out a little breathless, it was surprisingly steady.

"Kiss me, Ollie. I want you to kiss me."

When the prepaid phone I bought chimed on the table, I groaned and shook the memory out of my head. I did not need to be thinking about Ollie right now. Especially not about his kisses or anything else.

"Saved by the chime," I muttered to myself before opening the email notification.

It was the receipt for my first week at the hotel I was staying at. Seeing the total made my stomach drop and my mouth parted.

Holy shit. I couldn't keep staying there. Sure, I had a decent amount of money in savings, but at this rate I was going to blow through it before the month was out.

And I didn't know how long I was going to be here, or if a month was going to be enough time before I was ready to return to the states. Now I was going to have to think of something else.

So I went on the internet on my phone and started looking for possible low cost apartments or rooms for rent. Although, the idea of renting a room and having to stay in a home with a stranger didn't sit well with me. I wanted my own space.

The first hour I looked got me zero results. And the more I looked, the more I started to get nervous since I wasn't working right now and I wouldn't have any proof of income or anything like that. Not that I knew how the housing worked in France, but I assumed some things would be similar. If that was the case, hopefully they would just accept a few months paid in advance.

Still sitting at the café two hours later, I ordered more coffee and finally stumbled on a few listings that could potentially be my new home for awhile. Most of them were in this area and were reasonably priced.

Pulling out a pad and pen from my purse, I wrote down the addresses of the locations I found. Since I had nothing else to do today but fill myself up with caffeine and pastries, I figured it was as as good a day as any to start looking at these places. Especially if I wanted to avoid paying for another week at my hotel.

So I paid for my food and thanked the manager for his service before I finally rose from my table. Just as I was about to turn and walk out of the café, I saw the flyer for the art show still on the table.

Chances where I probably wasn't going to end up going, for some reason I couldn't stop myself from reaching down and picking it up. I also couldn't stop myself from folding it and sticking it in my purse.

I mean, it wasn't like I kept it because it reminded me of Ollie. Of course not. That wasn't the reason at all.

***

Hey guys. The past couple weeks have been super hectic with work but I'm so happy to get this chapter out today. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

🖤