Page 87 of One Time in Paris
But the fact that she knew left him unsettled. Deeply.
Somehow, the ripple effect of this kept widening, stretching into places and moments he hadn’t expected. Like with Quinn.
The ground beneath him felt shakier than ever.
End it. Own your mistakes with Callum.
Get ahold of this before it destroys everything.
Clicking through his mobile, he tapped on a text thread between Isla and him. He was about to type up another message about how he wouldn’t make it today when he paused, glancing up at a selfie she’d sent the night before of her in front of an old Austin Healy, like the one his father owned and taken them for drives in on warm summer nights when they were children.
The fact that she’d remembered had made him smile.
She wasn’t just another woman.
She was.. .her. The woman.The only thing his heart wanted.
Closing the text, he clicked over to a ride-share app and opened it instead, then requested a drive to the airport.
Lola was wrong.
He’d never hurt Isla. He wouldn’t just protect her, he’d choose her. Every damn time.
Because that was what Isla deserved. Even if he didn’t know how to approach talking to Callum. Even if their marriage was hanging over his head like a cloud—something they still needed to figure out how to deal with now that they’d decided to be together—he’d stick by his choice.
Isla Scott was his.
28
ISLA
If Isla dreaded one thing,it was being stuck in the air, suspended by a swing and spun in a circle.
She squeezed her eyes shut as the carnival swings slowed, starting their descent to the ground. This had been Boyd’s idea—he’d thought it would make a fantastic martini shot—but now all she wanted to do was hurl.
Roller coasters she could handle. Spinning—nope.
Grinding her teeth, she gripped the chains of the swing and waited for the ride to still. She blinked, the neon lights somehow less charming than when she’d been strolling through the carnival with Tomas and Kyle earlier. The sweet aroma of cotton candy mixed with buttery popcorn and oil for funnel cakes and deep-fried Oreos—all of which they’d sampled while shooting various scenes.
By now, her stomach felt like a sickly mess, and she needed water. Not sweet tea. Not soda. Not beer. Just plain old water.
As soon as she was able, she unlatched herself from the swing and jumped out, grateful for the firm ground under her feet.
Kyle came up to her and took her by the elbow. “You okay? I looked back while we were on those swings, and it looked like you were going to be sick.”
“I feel like I’m going to be sick, but it’ll pass. I don’t love things that spin,” she said with a grimace.
They made their way out with Tomas, then found the crew standing nearby. “That was a fantastic shot,” Boyd said with a smile. “Perfect way to end this segment. Give your equipment over to Tim, then you’re free to go. We’ll be sticking around to get some more B-roll for another hour or so.”
Davy sidled up to Isla. “If you hang around, maybe we can hang out for a bit? It could be fun.”
Isla gave her a reluctant smile. She didn’t want to be a killjoy, but she also knew Davy was just trying to make her feel better. Aiden hadn’t shown up last night, saying he’d catch a flight out of New York this morning.
And now? The entire day had passed, and he still hadn’t arrived.
So much for him being where she was.
Tomorrow was already the start of a new workweek.
