Page 13 of The Substitute Fiancée

Fuck.

I check my messages. Thirty-two notifications. Fifteen from Kristel since last night. Two from Oliver, my brother. One from David, my best friend and business partner. The rest are missed calls.

I don’t even read Kristel’s messages. I see them scroll by—walls of text, exclamation points, broken-heart emojis. Pathetic.

I open David’s message first.

David: Hey Alexander, are you okay? Kristel just called me, completely hysterical. She wanted to know if you were with me but wouldn’t explain why. If you need anything, I’m here.

David. The one who believed in MatchMapping when it was just an idea scribbled on a napkin.

I type a quick reply.

Alexander: I’m fine. Don’t worry. Don’t give Kristel any information. We’ve broken up. See you Monday for the meeting. I’ll explain everything.

Then I read Oliver’s messages.

Oliver: Kristel tried to reach you. I don’t know why she thought you might be with us… I’m guessing if you’re not answering her, you have good reasons. If you want to talk, my couch is yours.

Another message, three minutes later.

Oliver: Jokes aside, if you need a place to sleep, the guest room is ready.

I keep it simple.

Alexander: I’m fine. We broke up. I’ll come by for lunch. Thanks.

When I finish typing, Sam comes out of her bedroom. Still in pajamas. Hair tousled, eyes slightly puffy with sleep.

She smiles softly before stepping forward and wrapping me in her arms, offering her comfort.

That simple gesture—those arms around me without hesitation, without questions—does more for me than all the words in the world.

She gives without expecting anything in return, and right now, I need her tenderness to keep from falling apart. She smells like citrus, probably her shampoo. The knot in my chest loosens a little, and I can finally breathe.

“Good morning,” she murmurs against my shoulder.

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.”

And it’s true. Despite the disaster my life has become. As if my body knew it was safe.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says, pulling back slightly to meet my eyes. “I know it doesn’t seem possible right now, but it will be okay.”

Her dark eyes are so sincere, so full of compassion, that something breaks inside me. Last night, after I’d cried myself empty, I told her everything. She didn’t comment, just listened.

Mara and Emelyne join us soon after, and with a simple nod, the eldest Lacroix suggests,

“What if you two went to get croissants while we make breakfast?”

A strategic outing. An excuse to get me outside, to change my thoughts. I know it. Sam knows it too. But we play along.

The streets of the Marais are slowly waking up. A woman waters the plants on her balcony. A man walks his dog.

There’s a line at the bakery, but it doesn’t matter. Sam devours the pastries with her eyes, and I can’t help smiling. I know few people who love sweets as much as she does.