Page 67 of One Night in Paris

Rolling her eyes at me, she said, “Are those the only two options I have? My choices are that you should run for president or be a waitress?”

Shrugging, I took a gulp of wine, rolled it around in my mouth, and swallowed it. “I have no idea. I just know that I don’t work at the firm anymore, and no one else is going to give someone with absolutely no experience that kind of opportunity.”

“But you don’t havenoexperience now,” she reminded me.

“True. Everyone wants to see that an employee quit a job within a couple of months of them being hired there. That will look lovely on my resume.”

“Okay, so that part might not be so great, but you can list all the things you learned there, and then you can apply for other office jobs that are similar. When you interview, you can just say that you had to quit for personal reasons. Most of the people who are interviewing you will probably already know who you are by then anyway.”

“Because my face is all over the tabloids? Yes, I’m sure they’d want to hire the slut who slept with her boss.” Again, I found myself sinking into the couch, wishing it was the ocean and I didn’t have a life preserver.

“You seem to be focusing on the negative,” Kylee pointed out.

A deranged giggle bleated from my mouth. “Can you remind me of what the positives are, please?”

“Sure. You met a great guy, hot as hell, rich as fuck, and had an amazing time with him for a while. Granted, it didn’t work out, but that doesn’t erase the good times you did have. Then there’s the fact that you learned new skills and found out you’re amazing at that kind of work. Maybe you can’t use those skills right now, but you can down the line. You also saved a lot of money, so you and your mom will be okay for a little while even if you do have to work at that shitty ass diner. I think that’s all positive.” Kylee held her arms out and shrugged, as if stating the obvious.

She did make some good points. Still, the pain that I’d gone through might not have been worth any of it. If I had the chance to do it all again, I didn’t know if I would’ve made the same decision. Perhaps I would’ve been better off not knowing what I was missing. Knowing that I could be a good assistant given the chance—but that would never happen—and knowing how amazing it was to be with Logan Winters—and not being able to do that either—was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

“Listen, you should at least apply for waitressing jobs at some higher-end places that will pay better and where you can get better tips. You definitely have experience with that, and you shouldn’t have to put up with that beast of a boss of yours,” Kylee argued.

“I don’t know,” I groaned. She wasn’t wrong. My head hurt from thinking about it.

“Make an exit plan. Hell, go back to college.”

“And pay for it with what exactly? I saved a couple thousand dollars, not enough for college,” I told her.

“Get a loan. Fuck, I don’t know, but I do know that you deserve so much better than what you’ve got right now, girl. You are an amazing person, and you don’t deserve to have to workyour ass off for that bitch of a boss of yours in that rundown shithole of a diner.” Kylee cut through all of the crap and told it how it was. I actually felt tears in my eyes just listening to her go.

“Thanks, Kylee.” Reaching over, I put a hand on her leg. “I’ll think about it.”

“Awesome. Now, let’s have more wine!” She shot up off the couch to go get the bottle, and I laughed watching her go.

My phone dinged in my pocket. Praying it wasn’t Dotty telling me to come back in for another shift, I pulled it out.

It was an email—from Logan’s business email account. The one account I must’ve forgotten to block. All it said was, “Can we talk?”

Ignoring it, I put my phone away and held my glass out for Kylee to refill.

37

LOGAN

Nervous energy fizzled up inside of me as I approached the familiar neon pink and blue lights of the diner. Half of me kept screaming that I was making a huge mistake while the other half reminded me that this was the only way I was ever going to know for sure if Harper and I had a chance. If I walked away now, without even trying, I’d regret it for the rest of my life. At the end of the day, I’d either have her back in my arms again, or at the very least, I’d have closure.

Pushing through the doors, I took a deep breath, coating my lungs with the grease of a thousand burgers. My hopes that at least that mean old bitch who’d been Harper’s boss before wouldn’t be here were dashed when I saw the old shrew standing behind the counter.

“Take a seat wherever you’d like,” she said, gesturing at a section with a bunch of empty tables.

“Actually,” I began, approaching her, “can you tell me if Harper Reynolds is working here tonight?” I wasn’t even sure she was working here again at all, but I had a hunch she might be. Waiting for the woman to reply, I repositioned the magazineunderneath my arm, wondering if she’d seen it. If she had, would she have even recognized Harper?

“Who? I don’t know anyone by that name.” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and picked up a disgusting rag, running it along the counter.

Puzzled, I stared at her for a few moments, knowing that Harper had once worked here—for her. How could she not know who she was?

Then, I remembered what she’d said the last time I came in. “I mean, uh, Princess Juliet.”

“Oh! Now, her I know. You one of her many admirers? Well, I gotta tell you, don’t waste your time proposing to her unless you want your food on the table late and cold every night. Yeah, she’s in the back. Take a seat in the second booth. That’s her section.” With that, she went back to her counter cleaning, if that was even what one could call it.