Page 45 of Meet Me in Paris

“Lexi, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Why didn’t you come home? We missed you so much. Mommissed you too.”

The misery in her eyes made me regret this line of questioning, but not enough to change the subject. I had to know the truth.

Her gaze rose to meet mine. “I called Mom once to feel her out, see if she’d welcome me home. I didn’t get around to asking. Her voice was so clipped, and she seemed impatient to get off the phone. I could tell she had something else to get to that was more important than talking to me. That was my answer.” She swallowed hard. “It wasn’t till the funeral that I realized she was probably in pain and didn’t want me to know it. Mom always was too proud to show weakness.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said with a pointed grin.

She rolled her eyes. “A family trait, sis.”

I had so many questions. It took everything I had not to overwhelm her. “So you’ve been on your own ever since. That sounds hard.”

“Not really. Dad always wanted boys, so now he has them. Meanwhile, I’ve seen the world and done things he only dreamed of.”

“Like what?” I truly wanted to know.

She leaned forward with a shy grin. “Hiking in Iceland, the narrow Thrill Walk in Switzerland, river rafting in Norway, and the zip line in Wales. I’ve even been to Everest Base Camp in Nepal.”

I felt my eyes widen. “That’s incredible.” Yet she’d been following us around Paris, enduring museum after museum. No wonder she seemed so bored all the time.

“Yep. Backpacking across Europe isn’t as scary as some people think.”

Suddenly, I saw my brave younger sister in a new light. Maybe brooding, resentful Alexis felt as rejected by Dad as Idid. Maybe she felt just as lonely too. Except more so because I at least had Jillian. And now Hunter.

I looked around the room, where she’d spent the past week with two sisters she probably felt she had little in common with. “I want to hear about your adventures and the boyfriend in Maine. All of it. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Her expression was guarded but less so than a moment before. “We have three weeks left here. There will be plenty of time. But enough about me. You’re in love with Hunter, aren’t you? It’s super obvious.”

A day ago, I would have balked at the question. Now I had to stop and really think about it. “Honestly, yeah. I think so.”

She nodded. “Is he why you want to move here after the tour? Nice of you to give us a heads-up, by the way. Jillian was pretty hurt.”

That one stung. If she’d been hurt, she hid it well. I resolved to talk to her soon. “No, I thought about moving here before we came. Hunter being our tour guide was Jillie’s doing.”Bless you, Jillian. “I intended to avoid him altogether.”

“Falling for the boy next door. So charming.” I heard an unmistakable bitterness in her voice. “Just be careful. The whole fiancée thing just feels off to me. Guys can be exceptional liars sometimes.”

I could sense a world of hurt beneath her too-casual demeanor. I filed away her words for another day. “Thanks for the warning, but we’ll be fine. Everything is as it should be when it comes toHunter.”

Finally.

The next morning at brunch, I sat with my sisters and watched the door. Hunter insisted on being here at 9:00 a.m. to pick us up and take us to his apartment, where we could store our luggage until the time arrived to leave for the train that would take us to the cruise ship port in Marseille. But when 9:30 came and went, I started to worry.

At 9:45, my sisters went upstairs to finish packing for checkout at ten. I just sat at our table and, with an ornate fork, picked at the pastries and rolled meat on my plate.

The scared child in me wanted to believe Hunter was having second thoughts. Rather than saying goodbye, he would ditch us and say nothing at all. But the adult remembered we were twenty-six years old, not three, and there had to be a reason for his tardiness.

I’d sent four texts with no response. He wouldn’t ghost me now, after yesterday. Would he?

Concerned, I stacked our plates to make the hotel staff’s job a little easier before heading for the stairs. Just then, my phone buzzed.

I whipped it out and frowned. A message from Claude, not Hunter.

A townhome owner in my neighborhood is about to list his property for rent. I’ve convinced him to allow you to see it first. A furnished townhome in your budget is an extremely rare find and will be gone in minutes. Take a taxi and meet me at the following address in thirty minutes.

The next text listed the address.

Hello to you, too, Claude,I thought wryly.

Then his words sank in, and a swell of excitement filled my chest. Regardless of what I thought of the man, he’d done exactly what I’d hired him to do—find me the perfect home for when I returned. And I would be returning without question now that Hunter and I had an understanding.

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