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I type out the message and send it before I can tell myself I shouldn’t ask because it’s not my business and I shouldn’t care.
Chris: Yes. I moved out. My lawyer is pushing for an official separation. We start counseling this week. We’ll see how that goes.
Me: Good luck with everything. I hope it works out the way you want it to.
Chris: That would mean I get the girl in the end.
Me: Which girl?
Chris: You know which girl.
Me: I have to go.
Chris: It’s almost eleven-thirty there and you have to be up early tomorrow. Where are you going? Or are you out?
Me: Those are a lot of questions that a normal boss wouldn’t be entitled to know.
Chris: Maybe, but your very jealous and possessive ex-boyfriend would like to know.
Me: Emphasis on the ex
Chris: Don’t make me come out there.
Me: Please don’t. I took this job to put distance between us. We need to get over each other.
Chris: I didn’t agree to that. I’d prefer you didn’t get over me.
Me: That’s not fair.
Chris: Why isn’t it? I’m not going to get over you. Am I an asshole because I want you to be miserable with me?
Me: I’ll submit that question to Reddit for confirmation, but I would say yes you are the asshole for that.
Chris: Ha. I know you went there for space which is why I told Beck I didn’t want toc ome out there this week. You’ll have to deal with him though so try not to get yelled at. If I keep defending you, he’ll start to suspect we’re sleeping together.
Me: We aren’t sleeping together.
Chris: Don’t remind me.
The next morning, I’m getting ready for my first day when there’s a knock on my apartment door. It’s barely seven in the morning, so I can only imagine it’s someone from the team asking if I want to walk to the office together. I open the door to someone holding a massive and gorgeous bouquet of white and pink tulips in a glass vase. The person lowers their face and I see Emma giving me a knowing grin as she walks through my apartment with them in her hand. Emma is from Beckham Securities as well, but she works in legal which is on a different floor, so we hadn’t met until the flight here. She’s a few years older than me and recently broke up with her fiancé. Well, I suppose he recently broke up with her. So apparently, she’s using this trip in a similar way that I am and while I didn’t give her any details, we bonded on the flight over here about our failed relationships.
“We’ve been in Paris less than a week and you already have someone sending you flowers?” She blinks her hazel eyes at me several times. “Where have you been going and why are you not taking me?!” She sets the vase on my counter and puts her hands on her hips. She’s wearing sunglasses perched on her nose and she’s looking at me from over the tops of them. She fits in so well in Paris, it’s almost like she’s from here. She pulls the sunglasses off her face and places them delicately on her head before she fusses with her bangs. An impulse decision in response to the breakup. Zero out of ten recommend, she says.
Emma is gorgeous and turned at least twenty guys’ heads just in the airport alone. With legs up to her ears, and always wearing no shorter than four-inch heels, she has the kind of skin that is sun kissed year round with raven-colored hair making it a conundrum where she’s from or what’s in her DNA.
For the record, I’ve seen pictures of her ex-fiancé. I don’t get it. But love or whatever.
I don’t see a card with the flowers, thankfully, so I go for the easy lie because I have an inkling as to who they’re from. “I think they’re from my parents. They know it’s my first day. Trust me, I haven’t met anyone here.” Well, that part is true.
“That is so freaking cute.” She runs her finger over one of the petals. “It’s been forever since someone has sent me flowers,” she muses sadly before turning to me. “Okay, I want to stop for coffee, so hurry up!”
While I’m in my room grabbing my coat because November in Paris is anything but warm, I text who I believe to be behind the flower delivery.
Me: Safe to assume the flowers are from you?
Again, he responds instantly. When does this man sleep? I guess it’s only one in the morning at home, but still.
Chris: Should I be worried about anyone else sending you flowers?
