Page 80 of Frenched (Frenched 1)
I wanted Lucas.
“Tucker, the answer is still no. You were right to call off the wedding. We wo
n’t make each other happy.”
“You’re not even giving me a chance,” he whined. “I came all the way here for you.”
“I’m sorry about that, but the answer is still no.” Now that I’d found my voice, it was firm. “You can stay here if you want, but I’ll find another room to stay in.”
“How will you afford that?” he snapped, popping to his feet.
“I’ll stay somewhere else, then.” Suddenly I was scared he’d stick me with the bill for this suite so far. How the hell would I pay for it?
“Fine.” Tucker finally began buttoning his shirt. “But I think you’ll change your mind. You’ll realize that no one can treat you better than I can, Mia. You’ll miss everything that my money can buy. You could have a great life, an easy life.”
God, had I really given him that crass an impression of me? That I cared so much about wealth?
“I don’t want an easy life. I want a happy life. And it’s not with you.” Rising, I glanced around the suite. “I need some time to pack.”
He dropped his arms from the buttons. “Don’t go,” he said, his approach changing again. “Take some time. Think it over.”
“I’ll be doing plenty of thinking, Tucker. You can bet on that.”
He looked pleased, probably because he figured no woman would actually turn a life with him down once she pondered it some more. “Good.”
“Can I ask you to leave me alone while I pack?”
“Oh, uh…I guess so. I’ll go down to the restaurant. How will I know if—I mean when—you’ve changed you mind?” He flashed his Millionaire Heartbreaker smile at me.
Give it a rest, Tucker. I’m not that girl anymore.
“If I don’t come back here tonight, then I’ll get in touch back in Detroit.”
He paled for a moment. “You’re going home?”
“I don’t know yet, Tucker. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Damn, that was the truth. Once I packed my bags, I had no clue where to go. Try to find Lucas? Just fly home? Find a new (cheaper) hotel?
While I took my big suitcase from the closet, Tucker used the bathroom and finished dressing. Before he left, he kissed my hand and said, “Everyone deserves a second chance, Mia. Even me.”
Was that true? As I folded clothes and repacked shoes and toiletries, I wondered if I was being too hard on Tucker. After all, he seemed earnest. He’d called me last week, then he flew all the way here, he was saying all the right things—well, most of the right things. He was young and handsome and successful, and he said he loved me. He was sorry for what he had done. He even wanted the same things that I did. Was I crazy to turn down a second chance?
As quickly as I had the thought, it dissipated. Because even if it was true that he deserved one—and the jury was still out there—I didn’t want a life with Tucker anymore. I didn’t love him.
I loved Lucas.
Flopping back onto the bed, I stared at the ceiling and felt that ache in my chest, the one that threatened to undo me every time I thought about never seeing Lucas again. But what should I do? I needed to talk to someone. Rolling onto my side, I picked up the phone and dialed Coco’s cell.
“Hello?”
“Hi.” I barely got the word out before the sobs began.
“Hi! Oh my God, what’s wrong?”
“Everything. Everything’s so fucked up, Coco. I don’t know what to do.” I lay back and felt hot tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
“Tell me everything, sweetie.”
I took a breath and launched into the entire story from Paris to Vaucluse and back again, ending with finding a repentant Tucker in my suite.
