Page 44 of Cowgirls Love French Kisses
“Mathieu? What’s that look for?”
I open my mouth to speak, to pour out the torrent of my fears and hopes, but the words jam up in my throat.
“One month left,” is all that escapes, a whisper that carries the weight of my world. Because for every tick of joy, there's a tock of our looming goodbye.
Her hand tightens around mine, her thumb stroking my skin. “I know, babe. I know.”
The train carries on through the French countryside as night falls.
We sit there, side by side, letting the silence speak for us. Neither of us needs to say anything, this day has shown me so much of who she is. And that’s what makes ‘one month’ even harder.
She squeezes my hand, and for now, that’s enough. The rest will have to wait.
CHAPTER18
Annie
Curled up on a worn-out sofa,I'm half-dressed in my comfiest pajamas, the ones with the little cowboys lassoing hearts, an afternoon mug of chamomile tea warming my hands. Outside might be the height of summer, but the hostel’s common room in the middle of this old stone building has a steady chill all year ‘round. At the moment, it’s alive with energy you only find in a place where everyone's from somewhere else, but all I can hear over the din is the ticking of my personal countdown clock.
Two weeks left.
Charlotte plops down beside me, her legs folding underneath her like a pretzel. “Annie,chérie, just find a random French guy off the street to marry. This way it doesn’t affect your real relationship and you can stay in the country.” She winks dramatically. “Should be a piece of cake for a catch like you.”
I snort into my tea, nearly spilling it. “I’ve seen that movie. Either she ends up falling in love with the random dude—which willnothappen in my case—or she’s pushing daisies by the end of it.”
Charlotte shudders. “Yikes, no need to be dramatic now.”
Emilia chimes in from across the room, her voice carrying over the chatter. “Or you could start a revolution. Get the visa laws changed!” Her hands raise in mock protest. “The French love a good protest!”
“Yeah, and while I'm at it, why not just claim the Eiffel Tower as my personal residence?” I retort, the absurdity of it all drawing a genuine laugh from my lips.
“You laugh, but think of the Airbnb income!” quips Charlotte, and we all lose it, laughter bubbling up and filling the spaces between us.
It's a ridiculous conversation, the kind you can only have with people who've become more like family than strangers from different corners of the globe.
“Paris needs more Texas spirit,” I agree, the smile lingering on my lips bittersweet. “But I reckon even Texas can't wrangle me out of this visa situation.”
Each playful proposal to dodge my visa's end date is like a tiny band-aid over the ache in my chest. I force a grin, playing along, but inside, I'm counting down the sunsets I've got left in this city that's stolen my heart.
The city… and the man.
The laughter is a soothing salve, but it can't quite touch the undercurrent of melancholy swirling in my tea.
“Then there aren’t many options left.” Charlotte sighs and falls onto the sofa beside me, causing a mild chamomile catastrophe.
“Charlotte!”
“Emilia!” Charlotte commands. “Theserviettes,s’il te plaît! As I was saying,” Charlotte continues as she blots my pjs and my face with a tea towel, “you and the tall drink of water are just going to have to make it Facebook official.”
“Facebook official?”
“It’s how you handle long-distance relationships these days. We all know our parents are on Facebook, so they’ll see it, and that makes it official.”
“My mama isnoton Facebook.”
Charlotte sighs. “Then what are you going to do?”
I take a sip of my tea, buying time. The truth is, I've got a mental list longer than a Texas summer day on why me and Mathieu are just a temporary thing. Distance, timing, visa woes—you name it, it's on there.
