Page 9 of Rematch
Now, though…there was something in BFG’s tone that resonated and rang true. God, maybe she’d finally turned a corner—because suddenly she knew all the way to the depths of her soul that she was better off without Rick in her life.
“That fucker didn’t deserve you, and he’s in for a rude awakening when he realizes just how big a mistake he made letting you go.”
“You barely know me,” she felt compelled to point out.
He paused, considering that, then he gave her a bemused grin. “I guess I don’t,” he admitted. “But…” He leaned toward her, bumping his shoulder against hers. “Well, strange as it may sound, I feel like I do.”
His comment took her aback, warming every cold, lonely corner inside her. Because…he felt it too. This connection.
He reached down, taking her hand in his, shifting toward her. Their faces were inches from each other, and she was so tempted to lean forward. He glanced at her lips again, but he didn’t move, didn’t take what she was beginning to sense they both wanted.
“Are you ever going to tell me your name?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Not yet. I like being your Joy.”
Chelsea wondered if he might insist, but instead he gave her that affable grin. “I like being your BFG. Wouldn’t mind that nickname sticking for a while.”
“Well, then that’s your name. All night.”
“And maybe longer,” he murmured.
“No. No longer.” Chelsea shook her head, even as she shifted closer. She wasn’t sure what her end game was here, because she was going back to Baltimore in the morning, and then on to Paris in a week. As much as she was enjoying this time with him, nothing could come from this night.
Well…not nothing, she reconsidered, shocked by the direction her thoughts had traveled.
She’d never had a one-night stand in her life. However, she would definitely consider it with him.
BFG kept the distance between them, his grin fading at her negative response. “Why don’t we see where tonight leads us. There’s no reason to put a time limit on this. I feel like…I’d really like to see you again, take you out to dinner or to a movie or a hockey game.”
God, every word he said was perfect, amazing…heartbreaking.
“The truth is, I can’t give you more than tonight. Right after the holidays, I’m moving out of the country. I’m going to live in Paris.”
He cursed under his breath. “What’s in Paris?”
“A fresh start.”
He didn’t like her answer. “You don’t need to move for a fresh start. You realize some people just opt for a new wardrobe or a haircut or something less life-altering after a relationship ends.”
She grimaced, because he made a good point, but she hadn’t been in a great headspace for a long time, and after that run-in with Rick on the street, she’d decided the only way to dig herself out of her depression was to reboot her life. Like, majorly reboot it.
Chelsea had earned an associate’s degree in culinary arts, while working full-time in a donut shop in Baltimore. Her dream had been to open her own bakery someday with Ethan, who’d majored in marketing with a minor in business administration. That future had now been traded for one that would happen across the Atlantic.
She’d become close to one of her culinary professors, so it had felt like fate opening a door when Dr. Nally emailed her about a job opening in a Parisian patisserie the very same day she’d seen Rick with Vanessa.
She had applied for the position that night, and because the owner of the patisserie was a good friend of Dr. Nally, her glowing reference had basically assured the job was Chelsea’s.
When she accepted it, her first and primary thought had been that she wouldn’t have to worry about running into Rick if she was in another country. That really shouldn’t have been the driving force, but she’d been so desperate to escape—the hurt and embarrassment and anger—that she’d jumped at the chance. Because seeing him with that beautiful woman had reopened the wound she stupidly thought had healed.
Of course, she hadn’t admitted that avoiding Rick was her main impetus for leaving to her best friends, who were distraught that she was breaking up the Three Musketeers. She, Ethan, and Allyson had been inseparable since elementary school.
Somehow, she managed to convince them that moving to Paris was an amazing opportunity, because Chelsea knew they would try to talk her out of going if they suspected she wasn’t running toward something, so much as she was just flat-out running away.
Paris had become her escape hatch, her way of fleeing all the shit that had been swimming around in her head since Rick kicked her in the teeth.
“You leave after the holidays?” BFG asked.
“Like right after Boxing Day.”
