Page 98 of This Life and All the Rest
She sighs, and I brace myself.
“It’s just...be careful, okay? You might be trying to forget everything, and I respect that. ButIremember.Iwas there. I saw what his carelessness did to you. Something like that...it shouldn’t just be forgiven. God, someone who makes you feel like that? That deserves bloodshed.”
I bite my lip and squeeze my eyes shut.
She’s right.
I know she is. I can’t just push everything that’s happened to the back of my mind and pretend it didn’t.
But Sam’s always been a fire first, hold grudges after kind of person. It takes a vengeful act as harsh as the one that hurt her to move her forward. I don’t fault her for it. The shit she’s been through would harden anyone’s heart.
But...
I’m not sure I can do that with Macon.
Maybe I’m not as strong as I thought I was. I’ve always been pulled to him. I probably always will be. Especially right now, when my body is seeking comfort.
I need to go back to Paris.
“I’m not telling you what to do,” she continues when I don’t speak.
Her voice is softer this time, and it reminds me of England Sam. London Sam. The Sam who spent an entire summer with me just so she could hold me at three in the morning when I thought my world was ending.
I trust her. I trust her more than anyone else in the entire world.
“I respect any decision you make,” she says clearly, “and if you decide you can forgive and forget, I’ll support you.Iwon’t forgive and forget, but I’ll play nice. But please just think it through, okay? Don’t let your pussy play with your head.”
I snort a laugh, and I hear her sigh. I can picture her smiling on the other end, but she’s not stupid. She knows it’s my heart that’s causing the trouble. It always has when it comes to Macon.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “I promise I’ll think it all through.”
“Good.” She hesitates just long enough to send my defenses up again, then she drops a bomb. “Have you told him?”
My stomach twists with her question, and I have to take two deep breaths before I can answer.
“No.”
“Are you going to?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see me. I run my options over in my mind, and I feel sick.
I swallow hard, and my head is spinning when I finally say, “I don’t know.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Sam showsup at my motel room early the next morning with to-go coffees and croissants.
“They’re not French, but they don’t suck,” she says as she hands me one.
I take a bite and chew.
“Parisians definitely know how to do pastries,” I say after I swallow, and she hums her agreement.
“I’m going to eat my weight inpain au chocolatnext time I visit you,” she says. I don’t respond, and I don’t even know why. I can feel her side-eyeing me on the walk to her car.
“Though, I suppose I could try my hand at making them. Then I could have them whenever I want.”
My lips twitch with the need to smile. Sam always knows what to say.
