Chapter 26 #2
“You can make anything look like Paris,” she said quietly. “That is not a gift. That is a trick.”
I stared at it until my eyes stung. She closed the folder.
“Next week,” she said. “You bring me images that are not tricks. You bring me you.”
Then she opened the door and let me back into the hallway like I was someone she hadn’t given up on yet.
By the time I left campus, my phone had three missed calls from Noor, two messages from Frankie, and one text from Dominic.
Dominic:
Five minutes still available today, Flash. I can call while I’m walking to court. No pressure. Just checking in.
My throat tightened.
Court.
Of course he was going to court.
Of course his life continued with stakes and structure and choices.
Of course he had five minutes for me.
I stared at the message for too long.
Then I typed.
Me:
I can do five minutes. Now.
My finger hovered.
And then my phone rang.
Not Dominic.
An unknown number.
My stomach flipped.
I shouldn’t answer.
I did anyway.
“Hi,” a voice said.
Soft. Bright.
That accent that made everything sound like sunlight.
“Hi,” I managed, too quickly, too breathless.
“I know you’re always running,” she said, almost amused, like she could hear it in my silence. “But I’m standing outside the café near your métro stop.”
My stop? How did she know it was my stop? My pulse went sharp. “Why?”
A pause. A small laugh.
“Because,” she said, “I’m trying something new. Asking for what I want.”
The street around me blurred slightly, like my brain couldn’t decide what to focus on.
“What do you want?” I asked, voice too tight.
“I want you to sit for ten minutes,” she said. “That’s all. Ten. No drink. No rain check. Just… you. Me. Sitting. Existing.”
My chest tightened painfully.
Ten minutes.
Dominic wanted five.
She wanted ten.
René wanted ten images.
Mischa wanted me as the project.
My calendar wanted obedience.
I stood on the sidewalk with the cold air biting my cheeks as my whole week tilted toward something.
My phone buzzed again.
Dominic calling.
Two incoming at once.
Two directions.
Two versions of me.
I stared at the screen until it felt like a test I’d failed before I chose anything.
And then, because my body apparently had its own priorities—
I hit decline.
Not on her.
On Dominic.
My pulse roared in my ears.
I returned the phone to my ear before I could undo it.
“Okay,” I said to the nameless girl, voice shaking at the edges. “Ten minutes.”
Her smile was audible. “Good,” she said softly. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
My phone buzzed again.
Dominic calling—again. Five minutes.
I stared at the screen like it was asking me a question I couldn’t afford to answer honestly.
Across the street, I could already see the café sign — warm light spilling through the windows, the kind of place that pretended to be quiet even when it wasn’t. I knew she’d be standing just inside, pretending not to look for me while absolutely looking for me.
Ten minutes.
Just… me existing.
My thumb hovered.
Then I hit accept.
“Hey,” Dominic said, and just hearing his voice loosened something in my chest. Familiar. Grounded. The sound of a life I’d built slowly, carefully, with intention.
“Hey,” I exhaled the single syllable in relief and greeting as I stepped off the curb and into the crosswalk.
“You caught me mid-walk,” he said. “I’ve got five minutes before court. How are you really?”
The question teased me softly, a beckoning, not a command. I was fully off-campus now.
“I’m… okay,” I said automatically.
Dominic was quiet for a second. “Flash, that wasn’t your best work, I’m not convinced,” he said it so gently, I even caught the worry beneath it.
I smiled despite myself. “You’re not supposed to cross-examine me.”
“Occupational hazard.”
A snort of laughter escaped me. I walked past a bakery, the smell of bread warm and real in the cold air. My reflection flickered in the windows of closed shops — camera bag on my shoulder, hair pulled back, eyes too awake.
“I’m just tired,” I said into the phone. “It’s been… a lot.”
Dominic exhaled. “Yeah. I hear that.”
The warmth in his voice made my throat tighten.
I reached the café door and paused with my hand on the handle. Inside, I saw her.
Seated at a small table by the window. Coat draped over the back of her chair. Coffee untouched in front of her. Pretending very badly not to look up every time the door moved.
My pulse spiked. I pushed the door open.
A bell chimed softly.
Her head lifted instantly.
Our eyes met.
Her smile was small. Real. Unguarded.
“I miss you,” Dominic said quietly.
The longing hit me from both sides at once — his voice in my ear, her presence in front of me, the smell of coffee and citrus and something fragile between all of us.
“I miss you too,” I said, and I meant it. I really did miss him. “Tell me about your day?”
I walked toward her table while Dominic talked about court, about his week, about nothing important and everything meaningful. I sat down across from her, mouthed sorry, mouthed hi, mouthed give me one second.
She nodded, smiling like this was already enough.
Dominic asked, softly, “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?”
I watched her wrap her hands around her cup. Watched the steam fog her glasses. Watched the way she looked at me like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. I really didn’t have a better answer—especially not after today.
Dominic was quiet again. Not hurt. Not angry.
Just listening.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me.
“Tell me about your day, Flash. Do anything fun?”
We talked for four minutes and thirty-two seconds. About logistics. About school. About nothing. About everything except the truth.
When Dominic said, “I should go,” my chest felt tight in a way that wasn’t dramatic — just steady pressure. “Call me later?” he asked.
“I will,” I promised and this time, I really did mean it.
The call ended and the café felt louder without him.
Across from me, my nameless girl tilted her head. “That was him?”
I nodded, not even asking her to clarify who. Maybe she’d seen me with Dominic when he’d been here. Maybe I’d mentioned him when she’d been around. Either way, it had been him.
She didn’t look jealous or disappointed. That was another relief. No, she just looked… curious.
“You kept your promise,” she said lightly.
I laughed, a little breathless. “Barely.”
She pushed her coffee toward me. “Sit. Drink something warm. You look like you’re vibrating.”
Did I? I’d perched on the chair but I was still gripping my phone and my camera bag was still over my shoulder. I took a beat to set both down and shrug out of my jacket.
Then I wrapped my hands around the cup. The warmth went straight into my palms. Into my chest.
Into the part of me that kept trying to believe I could hold everything without dropping anything.
I hadn’t chosen.
I’d just added another window.
And for now — that felt like enough.