Kissed in Paris (31 page)

I took a deep breath as I tried to gather courage from the peaceful countryside outside Julien’s window. I could do this. Once I explained everything to Paul, he would understand. And since the wedding was in a couple of days, he had to understand.

“On Sunday morning, when I was supposed to fly home, I woke up in the Plaza Athénée, and all of my things were stolen. My suitcase, my passport, everything. All that was left in the room was that red dress you saw me wearing in the photos, and obviously that dress does not belong to me.”

“Someone broke into your room?”

I closed my eyes and willed my pulse to stop racing. I had to keep going. I had to tell him the truth.

“On my last night in Paris, I was having a drink at the hotel bar—a sparkling water—and I met a man named Claude Dubois. I can barely remember anything about the night, but I know that I agreed to have a glass of wine, and that he put something in my drink . . . because I let him come back up to the room. I don’t remember it though, and—”

“You brought him up to your room?”

“Yes, but like I said, I don’t remember anything. I’m certain he put something in my drink. You know me, Paul. I barely even drink in the first place, and I would never cheat. You do know that, don’t you?”

Silence traveled through the line, making my heart sink through my chest. “Paul?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Chloe. The police said you’re under investigation for fraud. Claude was one of the brother’s names they mentioned. They said they think you’re working with him, and with his brother too. And now I’m all wrapped up in it because it involves our joint checking account.”

“Paul, you
know
me. I don’t break rules. I’ve never done anything bad in my life. I’ve never lied to anyone, ever!”

“Well what have you been doing to me for the past three days?”

“I know. I didn’t want to freak you out. I thought I could get my passport back and get home without you ever knowing any of this mess had ever happened, and I just didn’t want to ruin our wedding. Let me finish explaining everything, okay? It will make more sense once you’ve heard the whole story. I know you’ll understand.”

Paul let a sarcastic snort slide through the line, but I ignored him and charged ahead. I had to get it all out. Now that I knew for certain I was going to make it home in time for my wedding, I had to make sure the wedding actually happened.

So, for the next half hour, I told him everything. Well, almost everything. I left out a few select details, like how Julien kissed me in the hallway of the Plaza Athénée, and how I had to pretend he was my husband on the Newlywed Romance Tour Bus, and how he’d seen me in that skimpy lingerie, and how we’d slept in the same bed for the past two nights, and would probably sleep in the same bed again tonight.

Those details were completely irrelevant. And none of that would matter once I was home with Paul and walking down the aisle to marry him on Saturday. I would forget all about Julien and this whole insane trip.

I was sure I would.

After I’d finished telling Paul everything he needed to know to fully understand what had happened over the past few days, and why I hadn’t told him anything until now, I waited for a response. I waited for him to tell me he loved me and that he believed me, and that this was all just nonsense and that he couldn’t wait for me to get home so he could marry me.

But life is never that simple, is it.

“Just tell me this. What were you planning on doing with Claude when you
voluntarily
brought him up to your hotel room?”

“I told you, Paul, I don’t remember anything about that night. I know he got me to drink a glass of wine at the hotel bar, and I barely remember anything past that point. Julien told me that Claude put something in my drink, which would explain me allowing him to come to my room and not remembering any of it.”

“How convenient.”

“Paul, I’m telling you the truth.”

“Like I said before, Chloe, I don’t know what to believe anymore, and now it looks as though I’m all wrapped up in some kind of legal mess. This could be a disaster for my career. How could you do this?”

“Paul, I told you. My name has been cleared from the investigation, which means you’re in the clear too. They’re done checking us out. They know I was just another innocent victim of one of Claude’s cons, and they’re after him now. Like they should’ve been all along.”

“How do we really know they’re letting you, and
me
, off the hook? How can you trust this Julien guy so much? You’ve only known him for a couple of days, and he’s an ex-con himself! How was he able to just make a few phone calls and get you off the hook? It doesn’t add up.”

“I’m coming home tomorrow and I’m all set to go. You are not in any kind of legal trouble. This isn’t going to ruin your career. Everything will be fine.”

 “If you really want to marry me on Saturday, Chloe, why didn’t you just tell me everything from the beginning? If you knew you’d been drugged, or whatever, by this Claude guy, why wouldn’t you just tell me the truth right from the start? I mean, I’m a good lawyer, and I’m your fiancé. I obviously could’ve helped.”

“I . . . well, I just didn’t think you’d understand. And I thought I could work it all out on my own, without ever having to worry you or the rest of my family.”

“It’s too late for that. Your sisters are out of control. Calling the house, screeching into the phone at me. Sophie was ready to get on the next plane to France and come find you last night after the detectives came by. She was convinced you’d been kidnapped. I told her she was nuts.”

“Well, in a way . . .”

“Chloe, you weren’t kidnapped. You
voluntarily
took that man up to your room. You
voluntarily
followed his brother all over the damn country. You weren’t fucking kidnapped.”

I flinched. Paul never cursed at me.

It hit me then, that in this entire conversation, Paul had never once asked if I was okay. He’d never expressed anger at Claude for doing this to me, or at Julien for whisking me away on this wild chase through France. He didn’t seem jealous or worried or any mixture of the feelings that I would hope my fiancé would feel after hearing what had happened.

Sophie knew me the best out of my three sisters. She knew what a straight-edged, rule-follower I was. It made sense that she would think I was kidnapped. That would be the only logical explanation for anyone who truly knew who I was.

But Paul was concerned about his career. About his reputation.

“I have to get ready for work.” Paul’s voice came hard and cool over the line.

“Are we okay?” I asked.

“Define
okay
.”

“Are we still getting married this Saturday?” I held my breath, not sure I wanted to hear his response. Whether he said yes
or
no, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.

“Just come home tomorrow and we’ll talk some more. I need to go to work now and make sure no one at the firm has gotten wind of this disaster.”

“Right. Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I’ll email with my flight details.”

“Sophie will come pick you up because she’ll already be in the car picking up the rest of your crazy family.”

I flinched again, Paul’s stinging tone like nails down a chalkboard. “Okay, I’ll see you when I get home then.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, Paul.”

I hung up the phone and stared at it for what felt like hours, my eyes glazed over with tears, my heart not sure what it was feeling anymore.

Nineteen

I wasn’t sure where I was going, or when I would stop walking. All I knew was that I needed to clear my head. I needed to find a way to believe that things were going to turn out okay. But the fact that Paul had refused to confirm whether or not we were still getting married on Saturday made it a bit difficult to believe.

Rows of lush green vines encircled me as I treaded along a grassy path, the early afternoon sun beating down on my face. I reached out and brushed my hands against the soft leaves as they rustled in the warm summer breeze, and when I closed my eyes, there it was again. That same soothing scent—the scent of my mother.

I lifted my gaze to the sky, wondering where she was. If she was here, with me, or if she was up there somewhere, watching my mess of a life, wondering herself how it would all play out.

What would she tell me to do? What would she say to comfort me if she were here?

It had been so long since I’d seen her, since I’d held her soft hand, that I wasn’t even sure anymore.

But as I continued to walk in between the endless rows of vines, the birds singing around me, the leaves cool on my fingertips, I found myself wishing I could just stay here forever. Because when I thought of the disaster that would be waiting for me when I arrived back in DC the next day, dread washed over me like a shot of ice water to the face.

Paul wasn’t sure he wanted to marry me anymore. He didn’t believe me that I had no intention of cheating on him. That I wasn’t, in any way, involved in Claude’s scam.

If he really knew me, and if he loved me unconditionally—the way I wanted my future husband to love me—wouldn’t he trust me? After eight years with me, shouldn’t he know that I would never purposefully enter into such a crazy situation?

When I thought of the way he’d kept using the word
voluntarily
, I shuddered.

And even worse, when I remembered the way he talked about his career, as if it were a person, as if losing
that
would be the worst thing to ever happen to him, I felt nauseated.

Shouldn’t losing
me
be the worst thing that could happen?

At the same time though, if I put myself in his shoes and thought about how I would react if things were the other way around, I couldn’t say that I’d be quick to believe him either. From the standpoint of our stable, uneventful, working lives back in DC, this was complete insanity. And even though I hadn’t
chosen
to be a part of Claude’s scam, by choosing to follow Julien and choosing to evade the police, I had certainly participated. And, even worse, I’d lied to Paul about all of it.

I needed to cut Paul some major slack. He was freaked out and angry. That was normal, considering the circumstances. He would come around. I would go home tomorrow, we’d talk things out again, and by Saturday, we’d be saying our vows as if this had never happened.

But as I continued down the sun-kissed path, I tried to envision walking down the aisle to Paul, and yet again, I couldn’t imagine his face.

Instead, the face that invaded my wedding daydream wasn’t anything like Paul’s. It was unshaven and rugged. It had messy hair and big brown eyes and a dimple in its right cheek.

I shook my head and walked faster. What was
he
doing in my head? No matter how hard I tried though, I couldn’t erase that face from my mind. As my mother’s scent swam past me in one more gush of summer wind, I broke into a sprint. I ran blindly, sucking the air into my lungs, blinking back the tears that threatened to pour out and make me feel things I hadn’t felt in years.

But I denied them and kept running. I ran so fast and so hard, my eyes boring into the grassy trail ahead of me, that I almost tripped when the path dead-ended into a small white cottage on a hill overlooking the entire vineyard.

Stopping at the front porch, I rested my hands on my knees to catch my breath. As the dizziness and exhaustion set in, I realized I hadn’t eaten or drank anything all day.

In true con-lady fashion, I didn’t bother knocking as I twisted the knob to the bright red door and let myself into someone else’s quaint little home.