From Fling to Ring: A Hockey Romance (The San Francisco Aftershocks)

Chapter 46

LUCY

My first coupledays nannying for Frenchie and her kids go fine. She’s given me a map of which parks I’m allowed to take her children to, although she’s expressed a strong preference for Parc Monceau, which is pretty fancy.

Of course.

It has a children’s playground and I don’t hear anyone speaking a word of English. I can finally practice my French.

That night, while I’m packing up my stuff to move from my Airbnb to my new room at Frenchie’s, my WhatsApp trills.

It’s Tyler. Again. It’s early in San Francisco. Like five a.m. early. Although who knows where he is. I know the hockey season is winding down, but I guess they still have a few games per week.

I haven’t spoken to him since I left, but I’m thinking that since I have a plan and a gig, it’s finally okay to say hi without breaking down in tears.

“Tyler,” I say after I accept the video call notification.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him since he stormed out of my apartment. I’ll admit I’ve spent a lot of time looking at the photos I have of him in my phone, but here he is onscreen in the flesh, if not thousands of miles away.

“Hey stranger.”

There’s silence between us. Neither of us knows what to say. I know I don’t.

“How’s Paris?” he finally asks.

“It’s good. Really pretty.”

More silence.

“Petal says you’re a nanny for a woman you guys grew up with?”

I nod. I’m not really in the mood to talk about Frenchie. In fact, I try not to think of her too much, squandering her opportunity to dig in and experience a different country.

She has no idea how fortunate she is.

Tyler’s hair is a mess, like he just woke up. He has dark circles under his eyes and just seems sad.

Guess I’m sad too.

“Why don’t you come back, Lu? We can go to Paris anytime you want.”

“For one, Tyler, I sublet my apartment. So I have nowhere to stay.”

“Stay with me. At my place.”

Yeah, right. We go from barely speaking to living together? I think not.

“The woman I work for is helping me get some sort of visa that will let me stay longer.”

He sighs. “Fine. I wanted to say it in person, but I’ll say it here. I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.”

I nod. “I’m sorry too, Tyler. But I’m not coming back.”

I get a message that my ride is downstairs, waiting to take me back to Frenchie’s.

“I gotta go, Tyler. You take care.”

I swipe the call closed and drag my stuff down five flights of stairs. It feels like my belongings have doubled in the week I’ve been here. I had to buy two large duffel bags I picked up at the Paris Ikea to gather all my additional crap into.

I fight tears as my Uber takes me across town, the driver babbling about something I have no idea of. I’m flattered he even thinks I speak French, and I keep nodding like I can really fake him out.

But the only thing I’m faking, at least right now, is that I don’t miss Tyler, or at least what we had for a moment in time, so damn much that my heart is breaking.