Page 83 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
Well, maybe one.
That Chanel bag was adorable.
“You’re making a mistake.” Tucker set down his coffee cup and looked me dead in the eye.
“That may be,” I said, exhaling, “but it’s my mistake to make.”
He stared at his hand on the cup handle. “Tell me what you want to hear. I’ll say it.”
“That you respect my decision and you’ll leave me alone. That you’ll find someone else and treat her better from the start.” I put my hand on his wrist. “That you’ll love someone more than you loved me. And you’ll show her that.”
Tucker looked up at me, and I took my hand away. “I still love you. And I’m sorry.”
“I accept your apology. And I’m not angry.”
Nodding slowly, he looked so miserable I almost felt bad. Almost.
“A word of advice, Tucker. Don’t post shit about your bad behavior on social media. It’s tacky.”
His fair complexion flushed. “God. My friends are such assholes.”
“I’d say they share the blame. Goodbye, Tucker.”
He said nothing, just kept staring at his coffee, likely in shock that he’d been rejected. Poor guy had probably never had that happen before.
First time for everything.
#
I contemplated leaving my luggage in storage at the Plaza, but in the end decided to drag it with me to The Beaver. If things went badly with Lucas, I could go straight to the airport, and if they went well…stomach clench…maybe I could go straight to his apartment.
It was raining again, so instead of traipsing through the rain to the Metro with all my stuff, I took a cab to The Beaver. It was only five o’clock, and I had no idea what time his shift started, but if he wasn’t there, I’d build a fucking campfire and wait. I’d wait all night long for him.
Despite my confidence in the decision, my anxiety returned as soon as I saw the familiar awning and sign out front. I remembered standing in front of it the first night I was here and how much I dreaded walking in to find a whole lot of couples in love inside. And now here I was about to go in and declare my love and throw myself in Lucas’s arms. Maybe years from now we’ll be telling this story to our children.
Gah! Stop it! No children!
I paid the driver and he helped unload my bags onto the curb, then left me standing there in the rain with dripping hair and live wire nerves. Was Lucas inside? I couldn’t see through the glass.
Come on, Mia. Be brave.
But I needed a minute. Filling my lungs with damp air, I inhaled and exhaled, composing myself. And for the first time, I saw there was another bar right next to The Beaver called Bar Petite. It looked more upscale, prettier, more French than Lucas’s bar. In fact, if I were choosing between the two of them based on looks alone, I would have chosen the other. But I hadn’t even noticed it Monday night. I hadn’t even looked around, really. I’d stopped in front of The Beaver, read the sign, and barged in.
Maybe Coco is right about fate. I reached for the door.
Now, in a movie, this is a great scene. The heroine pulls open the door, rushes in looking windswept and breathless and hopelessly beautiful, and the hero strides forward and takes her in his arms. Kissing ensues.
My entrance into The Beaver? Not so much.
For one thing, the fucking door to The Beaver is heavy and I was trying to prop it open and drag two suitcases through, but my one leg wasn’t strong enough to hold it. I struggled awkwardly for several minutes, feeling like every eye in the place was on me. Shit, why had I thought bringing my luggage was a good idea? My hair was dripping in my eyes and I had no free hand to wipe my face, so by the time I managed to squeeze myself and my stupid baggage through the door, I looked like a soggy mess, I couldn’t even see, and one of my heavy-ass suitcases tipped over, blocking the entrance.
I reached for it, stumbling over the other bag, but managed to pull it upright and drag myself and my luggage further into the bar. Oh my God, please don’t let him be watching this.
But he was. Of course he was, everyone was.
Once I’d wiped the rain off my face, I looked across the bar, and my heart blew up in my chest at the sight of him. His eyes were wide with surprise but I also saw a hint of amusement.
“Hi,” I said.
