Page 44 of One Time in Paris
She shot a smile at him, then closed the door in his face.
“Rude,” he called.
“I didn’t realize we were at the point in our relationship where I used the loo while you watched,” she called back.
“Well, you did vomit in my closet last time and leave me to clean it.”
“Don’t remind me.” She flushed the toilet and pulled herself back together.
Hurrying to the door, she opened it.
“You didn’t wash your hands,” he remarked with a wry grin.
“Ugh, I was going to, but I figured I’d open the door first since you missed looking at me so much.” She turned the water back on, smirking at him through the mirror.
“Much better,” he deadpanned. “Now I canseethe loathing.”
She loved this.
These moments with him felt easy and carefree. Like they were an old married couple, in some ways, because they’d known each other for almost thirty years. Teasing came so effortlessly with Aiden Camden.
But there was something new in it, too. A page they’d turned, where she couldn’t help wondering—hoping, really—that maybe there was something more to his teasing.
She washed her hands, then flicked the excess water onto his face as she walked past. “Glad we’re finally being honest with each other.” She grabbed a folded wardrobe bag from her closet, slipped on some sliders, then picked up her phone. “I really have to go, though.”
He gave her a look of disbelief. “You’re going in your pajamas?”
She shrugged. “I’ll get dressed once I’m there.”
He nodded, a distant look crossing his eyes. Then he straightened. “Let me just get my things, and I’ll follow you out, then head back to my room.”
“You can just let yourself out if you want.” Isla bit her lip.
What does Aiden want?
Clearly, something is bothering him.
“You sure you don’t want to come down to the lobby? We can talk along the way.”
“I’m sure.” He slipped his laptop into the case. “You never know, maybe I’ll turn up at the next set, and we can talk then.”
Her heart stumbled—both with excitement and uncertainty.
What isn’t Aiden saying?
The phone rang in her hand, and Isla looked down.Davy.She squeaked. “Oh God, that driver is going to leave. I have to go.” She dashed past him toward the door, then paused, hand on the doorknob. “See you in Paris?”
He smiled, but it was tight. Hollow. Her least favorite Aiden smile.Because I love his normal smile. “In Paris.”
18
ISLA
PARIS, ARKANSAS
“Holy crap,”Isla breathed to Kyle, edging closer as they approached the Springtime in Paris festival. “I thought Paris, Texas, was small.”
Kyle peered over the top of his sunglasses. “Wow.”
