Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“But maybe I don’t need anyone to give that kind of life to me.
I think I have to figure out for myself the kind of life I want.
” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Brandon.
I’m sorry I didn’t realize—before you came all this way—that I’ve spent my whole life chasing after the wrong things, thinking they’d make me happy.
I’m sorry I spent our whole marriage trying to mold myself into what I thought you wanted instead of just being me. It’s my fault, too.”
Vanessa piped in quickly, saying to Brandon, “But mostly, it’s yours,” which made his eyes narrow even further.
“Vanessa, this is between me and Shelby,” he said tightly.
“No, Brandon,” Shelby said. “It stopped being just about us when you walked out the door. I’m lucky I have a friend like Vanessa, who has spent the last six months telling me—even if I didn’t listen—that your decision to leave was your failing, not mine.”
“Now you’re letting your friends make your choices for you?” he asked, incredulous. “That’s not the Shelby I know.”
She looked across the table at Vanessa and Corinne.
Their advice wasn’t always perfect, and maybe a divorce party in Paris was the dumbest idea in the world, but she knew they had her back in a way he never would.
“Then maybe you never bothered to know me at all, Brandon,” she said at last, standing up again. “But for now, I have somewhere to be.”
“But… where am I supposed to stay?” he demanded. “I flew all the way to Paris for you!”
“You know what, Brandon?” Shelby said, a great sense of peace settling over her. “That’s not really my problem anymore.” She walked out without another word, ignoring his sputtering protests behind her.
Melanie had come to Café Le Petit Pont alone this morning to get a cup of coffee and to get her thoughts in order before seeing Gilles at the concert.
She couldn’t think clearly in the apartment she shared with him, surrounded by reminders of how deeply enmeshed they were in each other’s lives.
Plus, even though most of the flowers were gone now, thanks to Grandpa Henry, the place still had the cloying smell of decaying roses.
She had thought that being at the café, popular with tourists, would be a perfect break from her real world, but now, she felt like she couldn’t breathe as she watched the pretty blond American at the next table over storm out of the restaurant, her head held high, as a glossy-looking man in preppy clothes stared after her, his face red with anger.
There were two other young women at the table with him, and after the blonde had gone, the brunette stood and glared down at the man. “Go back to Alabama, Brandon,” she said. “And leave Shelby alone.”
The redheaded girl stood up, too. “Also, don’t you think it’s maybe time to stop dressing like a frat boy? You look like a jackass.”
He gaped at them as they dropped a few bills on the table and hurried off, and then, perhaps feeling Melanie staring at him, he turned and narrowed his eyes at her.
“What are you looking at?” he snapped, and she was taken aback by the intensity of the fury that was now directed at her.
She almost mumbled an apology and averted her gaze.
But seeing the way the blonde had stood up to him had done something to her.
Your decision to leave was your failing, not mine, the woman had said, and Melanie realized with a jolt of certainty that the same could be said for Gilles’s affair.
It was his failing, not hers. And so as the absurdly preppy man glared at her, she resisted the urge to look away.
Instead, she replied, “I think maybe I’m looking at what my future could be, too, if I have the courage to choose happiness. ”
“What the hell are you talking about, lady?”
But Melanie was already standing, a confusing jumble of emotions coursing through her. She didn’t know the blonde’s story, nor did she know what this angry man had done. She knew only that seeing the girl choose herself had made Melanie wonder if that’s the one thing she’d been forgetting to do.
“The redhead was right, by the way,” Melanie said to the glaring man as she put a few euros on the table and turned to leave. “You really do look ridiculous.”
She ignored his sputtering protests behind her as she walked from the café into the sunshine and the promise of a different kind of life, if only she had the courage to choose it for herself.
Before she could chicken out, she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed her husband’s number.
Piper and her mother planned to take it easy on their final full day in Paris, because her mom would need to conserve her energy for the concert that evening.
So when her mom suggested a walk over to Café Le Petit Pont for a late breakfast, Piper protested at first, though she really did want to see Nicolas, who was working that day. “I don’t want to wear you out before the concert, Mom,” she said.
“Didn’t you say Nicolas had a surprise for you?” her mom prompted. “I don’t know about you, but I want to know what it is.”
Piper smiled. Actually, Nicolas had told her the night before that the surprise was for her mom, too, and that he hoped they’d both be able to come by. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. And we should wander around after that, too. Maybe the Louvre today?”
Piper hesitated. “Won’t all that walking make you tired?”
Her mom reached for her hand and squeezed. “Honey, I don’t want to miss another moment with you. I’ll take a nap before the show tonight. But for now, let’s make the most of the time we have.”
Piper nodded and pasted on a smile so that her mother wouldn’t notice her misty eyes.