Page 105 of The Rebound Plan

I’m taken back a decade to when I met Francois for the first time. I was twenty-one. He was in his late forties, and sounded like a prince. He wasn’t in New York very often the first year we knew each other, but the year after that, his time in the city increased and he bought an apartment.

I’ve never seen the inside of it, though. We always met here. A decade ago, I didn’t wonder why that was. He’s not married, or if he is, it’s not public knowledge. I don’t think he has any children.

But it may have simply been to prevent attachments—either on his part or mine.

Francois is a deeply emotional lover. It would be easy to think he loves you.

At five in the morning, though, I know he’s a workaholic who can go eight years without talking to a girl, and then slot her in with ease.

Something more private.

My stomach turns.

I hit reply and fire off a quick acceptance of dinner the following night. I need the probably false hope that what I’ve come here to do can be accomplished outside of this hotel suite. At the very least, I need a day to prepare myself. And I need a new outfit.

I need an Olivia Nash dress.

“Shannon!”

“Livy!”

She’s waiting for me at a cafe just down the block from her East Village boutique.

“I can’t believe you’re awake,” I say, squishing my designer friend in a tight hug.

She laughs and returns the embrace. “Do they hug harder in Canada? This is a good one.”

I exhale happily and let her go. “Yeah. They do hug harder. Well, the friends I’ve made there do, anyway. But it’s so good to see you.”

“At seven in the morning, too.” She waves her hand at me. “What’s up with this? Why areweup?”

“It’s a long story for another time,” I say. “Have you ordered coffee?”

“Yep. I took a guess and if you don’t like what I’ve asked for, I’ll drink both of them.”

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

It’s a hazelnut oat milk latte, and itisperfect. I savour the first couple of sips, then put it down. “How about you? You didn’t say why you were up when I texted you.”

Her cheeks turn pink. “It’s kind of dorky.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“My dad has been tapped to be the next Ambassador to France.”

“Wow.” I blink hard. “Wow!”

“I know. It’s sort of extra. And there’s a friendship dinner tomorrow with the UN Ambassador and some business leaders that I’m going to with my parents. So I’ve been watching French TV in all my spare time to get caught up on the latest world events from their perspective.”

Of all the dinners in Manhattan tomorrow, what are the fucking chances?

“At the New Museum?” I ask faintly.

She laughs, surprised. “How did you know?”

“I, um, have also been invited. As a plus one of an old friend. That’s why I need a new dress. I didn’t bring anything appropriate.”

Livy claps her hands. “I can totally help with that.”

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