Chapter Eighteen
The Parisian café was small, the kind of place where light pooled on marble tables and the smell of butter and yeasty bread hung in the air. Rhys had been sipping his coffee, waiting for Jillian to return from the ladies’ room when the front door swung open and a rush of cold air spilled in.
He looked up absently and froze.
Cat.
Cat?
He blinked, looked again. It was her. Catriona Blake stood in the doorway, her favorite blue scarf askew, a familiar blue knit cap on her head, her pale cheeks flushed pink.
For a second, Rhys honestly thought he was dreaming. His brain felt slow. Then she smiled, shy, nervous, impossibly beautiful.
His chair scraped against the tiled floor as he stood. “Cat?”
“Surprise, Daddy!” Jillian cried, jumping at his side.
He looked from Jillian to Cat and back. “I don’t understand.”
Jillian’s eyes shone with a mixture of mischief and triumph. “She’s come for my birthday too. I thought it would be more fun this way.”
Rhys couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and Jillian kept chattering. “I went to Michigan to see Cat, and I convinced her to come so we could all celebrate my birthday together.”
Rhys blinked, trying to catch up. “You went to America? When?”
“A couple weeks ago.”
“Impossible.”
“You thought Mummy and I were in Bath, but we were actually in Kalamazoo.”
“I need to speak with your mother,” he growled.
“Well, you can, later. She’s here too.” Jillian pointed.
Rhys followed her gesture and through the café window saw Lyndsey across the narrow street, bundled in a wool coat. She gave him a cheeky wave and held up her phone.
“I cannot believe this,” he said to Jillian. “Sit down. Stay here. I need to talk to Cat.”
“You better before she runs away. She looks like she’s about to bolt.”
Rhys looked at Cat, still standing inside the door, her dark hair glinting in the soft café light. She was bundled up and looking incredibly embarrassed but also more beautiful than he remembered.
She met him midway across the café floor.
Two spots of rosy color stained her cheeks. “Hello, Rhys.”
His breath left him in a rush. “You’re really here.”
Her smile trembled, just at the edges. “This is madness, I know.”
“A good kind of madness,” he said huskily, drawing her closer, step by step. “How…” And then he swore under his breath and pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
He would have kissed her far longer, but Jillian’s voice broke through.
“See, Cat? I told you it would work.”
And Rhys, still reeling, still half-convinced the universe had tilted on its axis, could only laugh, something he hadn’t done since Cat had left.
*
They lingered in the café longer than they meant to. Lyndsey joined them for a light bite, sharing that she’d managed to get some good photos of the reunion. The four of them crowded around a small table near the window, and while Jillian did most of the talking, they were all smiling. Laughing.
Cat couldn’t stop watching Jillian. She’d grown taller since Christmas, her confidence shining through every movement. But beneath the birthday excitement, Cat could feel the careful glances Jillian kept sending toward her father—small, hopeful flickers that seemed to say please be happy.
Rhys, on the other hand, was trying very hard to make sense of it all. He’d brought Jillian to Paris to celebrate her birthday, even as Jillian was planning something for him.
When Jillian finished her last madeleine, Lyndsey set down her cup. “Come on, birthday girl,” she said. “You and I have plans. Your father is officially off duty for the rest of the day.”
Jillian blinked. “But—”
“No arguments,” Lyndsey said firmly, though her eyes were warm. “It’s your night, and I intend to spoil you rotten. Besides”—her gaze shifted to Cat—“these two have a little catching up to do.”
Understanding dawned on Jillian’s face, followed by her irrepressible grin. She slid out of her chair, looped her arm through her mother’s, and kissed Cat’s cheek. “Don’t let him be grumpy,” she whispered conspiratorially.
Cat smiled. “I’ll try my best.”
Rhys stood as they left, brushing a kiss across the top of his daughter’s head. “Happy birthday, love.”
“Best one ever,” Jillian said, already halfway out the door.
When the door closed behind them, silence bloomed, not awkward, but weighted, and warm. The café felt smaller somehow, cocooned in the hum of other people’s conversations and the faint patter of rain against the tall windows.
Rhys sat again, his expression soft, almost dazed. “They planned this together,” he said quietly.
“You must feel how I felt in Kalamazoo. I was gobsmacked. One moment I was working at my desk after class, and the next Jillian Harmon was in my room.” Cat grinned. “You do know she’s going to be a handful when she grows up.”
“Oh, she’s a handful already.” Rhys took Cat’s hand, fingers lacing with hers. “You didn’t come because she forced you to?”
“I’m here because I missed you terribly.” The laugher was gone from her voice and her expression grew somber. “I’m here because I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have left—”
He silenced her words by leaning across the table and kissing her. It wasn’t a brief kiss, either. When he finally lifted his head, she couldn’t speak; she could only look at him with so much love.
“I missed you,” he said, sliding one hand along her jaw to cup her face. “I don’t like this Michigan-England thing we’re doing.”
“I don’t, either.”
“We belong together.”
She nodded, turning her face ever so slightly to kiss the palm of his hand. “We do.”
“So, what do we do?”
“Go back to my hotel room?”
*
Paris woke slowly under a pale February sky.
The city was washed clean from the night’s rain, and the cobblestones outside the H?tel du Lac gleamed.
From the open window of their room, Jillian could hear distant church bells and the low rumble of morning traffic.
She yawned, stretching beneath the hotel duvet, and turned toward her mother, who was sipping coffee in bed and scrolling through the photos she’d taken the day before.
There were dozens of photos too. Jillian at the café with a mug of hot chocolate almost bigger than her hands.
Jillian blowing out the single candle Lyndsey had found at a patisserie.
Jillian mid-laugh, her hair wild, her joy unguarded.
And then there were the others—the ones Jillian had begged her to take discreetly of her father and Cat greeting each other at the café yesterday, and then later, standing close together on the bridge.
Lyndsey stopped at one of those shots, zoomed in slightly, and smiled. “You’re quite the strategist,” she said.
Jillian returned to the bed and scrambled close to her mother. “I really like her and she makes Dad happy.”
“I think they make each other happy,” her mother agreed, handing Jillian the phone.
In the photo, Cat and Rhys were standing close, his arms wrapped around her, while the city around them seemed to shimmer. Jillian’s chest filled with something too big to name, equal parts pride and love.
“I was scared this wouldn’t work, and they’d just end up more upset,” she said.
“It was a risk,” Lyndsey agreed, reaching over to tuck a stray curl behind her daughter’s ear. “But you’re brave, and you have a beautiful heart. Most people your age just ask for phones or concert tickets for their birthday.”
“I just wanted everyone to stop being sad.”
A knock sounded at the door but before Lyndsey could rise, Jillian bounded up, raced to the door, and looked through the peep hole. “Dad,” she said, throwing the door open.
Rhys stood in the hall, holding a paper bag and a tray of drinks. “Room service.”
Cat appeared behind him, wrapped in her scarf and cap, eyes shining, looking lighter, softer. Happier.
Jillian let out a squeal and threw herself at her father, who caught her easily. “Bonjour, Papa. Bonjour, Catriona.”
They all sat down at the small table by the window; the room filled with the scent of warm pastries and coffee.
Lyndsey passed on more coffee but watched them all with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.
Jillian took a bite of a chocolate-filled croissant, flakes of pastry scattering across her plate, and looked from her father to Cat.
“You’re staying, right, Cat?” Jillian asked, trying to sound casual but failing utterly.
Cat smiled, her hand in Rhys’s beneath the table. “For a few days,” she said. “There’s a lot to discuss, and even more to celebrate.” And then she drew her hand out and showed everyone her ring.
Jillian nearly fell off her chair. “What? Dad, you proposed?”
He nodded, looking a little shy.
Jillian jumped up, danced around the table to give Cat and her father hugs. “Congratulations … this is epic!”
Cat’s eyes filled with tears, and she gave Jillian the biggest hug. “Thank you, brave girl,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”
Jillian hugged her back. “I know. You loved me so much you kept your promise to me, even though it broke Daddy’s heart.”
“Stop!” Cat laughed and cried and drew back to wipe her eyes. “You are merciless.”
Jillian grinned. “I am. But that’s because I discovered that sometimes practical, sensible people need to be reminded that happy endings don’t write themselves.”
“I will drink to that,” Rhys said, lifting his coffee cup.
All four raised their glasses. “Sante!” Lyndsey said, smiling.
“Cheers,” Cat answered, smiling through her tears.