Page 48 of Meet Me in Paris

“Kennedy . . .” He swallowed.

Definitely unhappy about my announcement. I could only think of one reason he would be unhappy about my moving here, and it made my anger flare to a whole new level.

I lifted my chin, gathering every ounce of strength I had even while my heart felt newly torn to shreds. “Collette showed up last night, didn’t she?”

His eyes widened. “Of course not. Why do you—oh. The woman you heard on the phone. You didn’t recognize Jen’s voice?”

His married older sister.Duh. “She was here?”

“Passing through on her way home, she and her husband. They went to Italy for their anniversary, but then they heard the news. Kennedy, my dad’s had a stroke. He’s in the hospital.”

I gaped at him, feeling all the anger and suspicion of the past few hours crash down into guilt. If anyone knew how he felt right now, I did. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I got the call in the middle of the night. I’ve been making arrangements all morning. Forgive me for not being excited about your rental. I am, but the timing isn’t great. I need to go home for a while.”

Just when I was ready to stay, fate yanked him home again. This felt like a cruel game.

He must have seen my expression because he said, “There’s nothing I want more than to be with you. It’s just that my father needs me right now. And I know you’re on a trip with your sisters, so I’ll understand if you can’t join me.”

A statement that felt like a question. All at once, our situations were reversed—Hunter wishing I would stay at his side when he needed me most when grief and worry threatened everything else. I could see the pleading in his eyes.

I could do it. I could send my sisters on without me and go home with him. We would be together no matter what happened. I could find happiness anywhere as long as we had each other.

But the terms of my grandfather’s inheritance were clear. If I left, my sisters and I wouldn’t get a penny. Which I’d be fine with, but I couldn’t do that to Alexis and Jillian. They were holding up their end of the bargain. I couldn’t disappoint them now.

Worse, I couldn’t explain why, and that killed me more than anything.

“I can’t come with you,” I told him a second time, my heart breaking with each word. “I can’t abandon my sisters.”

Hurt flared in his eyes. “They’re in their twenties, Kennedy. Alexis has traveled the world by herself, for goodness’ sake. They’ll be fine. But if you don’t want to come,just say so.”

“I do. More than anything. You told me once you would always be there for me when Mom got sick?—”

“And I wasn’t.”

I tried again. “I want to be there for you, too, helping you get through this stuff with your dad.”

“But you won’t.” The hurt turned to anger.

Emotion constricted my throat until I could barely speak. “Hunter, I can’t. Not right now.”

“I’m getting really sick of that line.” He stalked toward the exit. “There’s a taxi out front, waiting to take you to the train station. I’ve already tipped the driver for your bags.”

Was he really going to leave? Just like that? “Hunter, don’t do this. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“You know what? Maybe it’s better if you don’t.”

He strode out the door.

Marseille,France. A beautiful seaside town I should have loved.

The ride here had felt like a century as I stared out the window, alone with my thoughts as my sisters played a card game. Upon our arrival in Marseille, a taxi delivered us to our hotel last night, where we shared another single room but, thankfully, spread ourselves across two beds instead of one.

Now I sat in the terminal, waiting for our check-in time. My sisters went to find a snack, promising to bring me something. They were surprisingly gentle with me today, probably because Jillian overheard the last part of my conversation with Hunter yesterday before he stormed off. They didn’t ask questions, which I appreciated.

Thunder echoed outside, and I peered out the window to find the docks bathed in a depressing grayness beneath dark storm clouds. They fit my mood perfectly.

I pulled the list from my pocket and opened it. The edges were worn now, threatening to tear any day, so I held it with care. My handwriting, so perky and straight then, brought me right back to that night with my mom. I could still remember her leaning over my shoulder, pointing to an item here and there or suggesting another.

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