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I came to Paris to learn about pastries and to figure out a plan that allows me to follow my own dreams while not disappointing my parents.
I’ve partially accomplished one of those things. The verdict is still out on the second. But I'll be leaving here tomorrow with one thing I wasn't counting on: a broken heart.
CHAPTEREIGHT
BRYCE
Ithread my fingers through Charlotte's hair, tugging her head back and exposing her neck to me.
"I'm never letting you go." I nibble down one side of her neck before making my way back up the other side. "You can't leave me."
Tears spring to my eyes as I bury my nose in her neck, clinging to her body like it’s an anchor holding both of us together.
"I have to go," she croaks, trying to wiggle out of my grasp, but I tighten my hold.
Bitterness courses through my veins that fate could be so cruel. That it’d allow this angel to light up my entire world before ripping her away from me and plunging me back into darkness.
"No, you don't." I lean back, cupping her cheeks in my palms. "I'll follow you to the end of the Earth, Charlotte." I kiss the tip of her nose. "No one is going to keep us apart, not even your parents."
"But you have your life here. People come from all around the world to taste something you created." She nuzzles her cheek against my palm, clenching her eyes shut. "I won't ask you to give all of that up to come work for my parents."
"You didn't ask. I'm offering." I lean back, pulling out the black box Giselle had delivered to me this morning. "I had everything planned out perfectly."
Her eyes widen as I flip the lid open, showing her the two-carat pear-shaped diamond I had specifically crafted just for her.
"I was going to take you to dinner below the Eiffel Tower and drop to one knee just as it lit up for the night."
I raise to one knee.
"You're everything to me, Charlotte. None of this…" I motion around the room. "…means anything if you aren't here to share it with me. Marry me."
Charlotte covers her mouth with both hands, focusing all her attention on the box in my hand. Her head swings back and forth as she tries to process everything I’ve just dropped into her lap.
Everything else fades into the background as she backs away from me, sliding across the floor on her bottom before her back slams against the bed. My eyes lock on her as I search her face for any answer. Any sign that she loves me even a fraction of how much I love her.
But the only thing I see is fear.
“Okay.” I place the box on the floor beside me and push to my feet. “I’m leaving."
"No," she sobs, her entire body trembling. "Please don't leave me."
I back away toward the door. I want to push her harder, to make her understand what she means to me, but I can't sit here and watch her crumble within herself, knowing it’s my fault. She needs space to process everything that I've said to her and decide if being with me is enough. I need Charlotte to understand that I'd do anything for her, give her everything that I am, and all she has to do is give me her heart in return.
I chuckle humorlessly. "I have to, baby." I continue backing toward the door, grabbing a shirt from the end of the bed and pulling it over my head. "I love you more than life, but you need to decide if that's enough."
She reaches toward me, tears streaming down her face. I want nothing more than to run to her, scoop her into my arms, and promise never to make her feel this type of pain again, but I can't. I need to know that she’s in this with me, that this all-consuming love I feel for her is bigger than family, than our jobs, than anything.
"If you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with me. Come to Jules Verne tonight at seven p.m. There is a reservation for Thomas." I stride toward her, unable to resist the pull I feel in case this is the last time I set eyes on her. "I'll love you always."
I plant a kiss on the top of her head before turning on my heels and striding out of the room. I don't stop as I fling the front door to my place open and stride through it.
I don't know where I can go to escape the pain that radiates through my body. I should've stayed, explained to her what I need, and helped her decide. It would've been the easier choice, but if I did that, in the back of my mind, I’d always wonder if she really chose me or if I’d talked her into it.
I know from the few conversations we've had about her parents that family means the world to her and the thought of disappointing them weighs heavily on the choices she’s made in life. She chose a culinary program at a college instead of going to a culinary school like she wanted to lessen the financial load on her parents. She never once told them what she wanted to do and chose to plaster on a fake smile, not once thinking about what would makeherhappy.
I want her to choose me, to marry me, because she wants to, not because she believes it will make me happy. Charlotte agreeing to be my wifewouldmake me happy beyond my wildest dreams, but she has to want that happiness with me as well.
I wander around the city for a while with no destination. I take the time to think about what life would be like without Charlotte if she doesn't accept my proposal, but that isn't an option. I've been telling her repeatedly that I'd do anything to be with her, and I mean it. If that means selling all my businesses here in Paris and moving into the small two-bedroom apartment above her parents' restaurant, I'll do it for no other reason than to call her mine.
