Chapter 2
two
. . .
Gracie
I was a total cliché.
It was my worst nightmare.
I felt like a complete failure.
Like everything I’d been warned about had happened.
And now I had to clean up the mess I’d made.
My parents had been suspicious that something was off, but Cutler was impossible to fool.
He was that guy.
He’d called me out several times, because he knew something was up, and I’d finally told him everything.
So of course, I started at the only place that felt right.
Cutler Heart was not only my best friend—he’d always been my safe place as well.
I pushed the door open, relieved to be home after a long shift at Le Café, the restaurant right below my apartment where I currently worked.
I glanced around the small space, reaching for the pink heart sitting on my nightstand.
CH + GR
Cutler Heart plus Gracie Reynolds. My best friend had made it for me when we were just kids, and I’d always kept it with me. It was like having a piece of home with me. I held it against my chest as I took in a couple of boxes that I’d packed up to ship back home.
Home.
Where even was that now?
I’d had an amazing apartment in Los Angeles, and a fabulous job at J&J Interiors.
And Gabriel Laurent had been a client of the firm’s. I hadn’t worked with him directly, but he’d been at several events we’d thrown, and he always found his way over to me.
The man oozed charm and sex appeal. At least initially he did.
He was older than me, and his perfectly coiffed salt-and-pepper hair definitely worked for him. He was always impeccably dressed in designer suits, and he carried himself with an abundance of confidence.
I was flattered that he’d been so relentless about taking me to dinner after we’d met. We dated for several months—he had a home in Los Angeles and a home in Paris.
It was a whirlwind romance, one that had me ignoring everyone’s advice and throwing caution to the wind.
I’d never been impulsive, but it felt like the right time to follow my heart.
I made decisions that were so out of character for me.
And at the moment, I regretted every single one of them.
Which was why I was struggling so much with my current situation.
I’d always had a plan.
I’d always been independent and driven.
But Gabriel was so convincing. He’d encouraged me to start my own business. He’d told me about all the contacts he had back in Paris, and that it was a perfect place to start a design business of my own.
To work for myself, which was what I’d always wanted.
We were both going to support one another.
He was a talented artist, very well known in Paris, and he had a collection that would be coming out early next year. He wanted to be here, and he wanted me with him.
He’d said we could both chase our dreams in la Ville Lumière, as the locals called the City of Lights.
And hello, who wouldn’t want to be an interior designer in a city with so much history and beauty?
This city epitomized my love for design with its endless character.
It’d taken some convincing, but once I’d agreed to go, I’d defended my choice to everyone I loved.
Everyone who thought I was making a mistake.
And it had been a disaster from the moment we’d arrived here six months ago.
My business plan had gone absolutely nowhere, and my relationship had completely changed shortly after we arrived in Paris.
Luckily, I didn’t feel actual heartache or sadness at the realization that it wasn’t going to work with Gabriel, but I was embarrassed that I’d put all my eggs in one basket—one crappy basket that everyone had warned me about.
So I was going to try to learn from this and move forward.
My phone rang, and I smiled when I saw my dad’s name flash across the screen. It was late afternoon in Paris, so I knew they were just waking up. I dropped to sit on the bed in my tiny studio apartment and answered the FaceTime call.
“Hey, guys,” I said as he and my mom appeared. She was wearing her bathrobe and sipping her morning coffee.
I loved my parents so much, and all I wanted to do was make them proud of me.
But I’d come to Paris and fallen flat on my face.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom said with a big smile on her face as my father waved. “Are you getting packed up?”
“Yes. I mean, the place is the size of a postage stamp, so it’s fairly easy.”
“Well, I’m still grateful that Cutler is coming there to help you. You fly back to the States in three days, right?” Dad asked.
“Yes. I’ll have a little time to show Cutler around Paris before we leave.”
“We spoke to him yesterday, and he’s so happy you agreed to go back to Blue Sky Bay for a few months,” Mom said. “The home the Chadwicks are building sounds amazing. That’ll be a good project for you to dive into.” She reached for her glass of water where they were sitting at the kitchen table.
In the home where I’d grown up.
I loved that house.
I missed that house.
“Yeah, I think it’s a good idea for now,” I said.
My parents had wanted me to come home to Cottonwood Cove until I got back on my feet, but I was not going to run home to Mom and Dad and ask them to rescue me, though I knew they happily would.
It was mortifying that I was twenty-eight years old and barely had enough money in my bank account to buy a plane ticket back to the States.
I’d been surviving on ramen noodles for the last few weeks, as I was barely bringing in enough money to make ends meet while I was working at the café.
I’d gone through most of my savings, and I didn’t want my parents to know how bad things were.
How far I’d fallen.
“I think it’s great you’re going there for a while before you head to New York. Sounds like a very exciting opportunity, but are you sure you want to live that far away?” my father asked.
Johnny was one of the owners of J&J Interiors, where I worked before throwing caution to the wind and moving to Paris.
Thankfully he’d offered me a position back at the firm, but it would be in New York City.
The opening wouldn’t be available until the end of September, as Beth, another designer, would be leaving on maternity leave, with no plan to return.
So, instead of staying in Paris and barely surviving, I would move to Blue Sky Bay for the next three months, and Cutler had a few design jobs for me while I was there.
“I want to go back to doing what I love. I miss it. And Johnny is the best boss a girl could ask for. I’m just grateful they found a position for me.”
A wide smile spread across my mom’s gorgeous face. “Of course they want you back. And you’ll still come home for Christmas this year, right?”
I’d moved to Paris the week before Christmas last year, my first holiday away from my family. I was miserable and I knew they were sad I wasn’t there.
“Yes. Of course. I will never willingly miss a Reynolds holiday again.”
My family was close. My brother, Burke, was a junior in college back in California, but he’d recently moved to Italy.
He was doing a semester abroad in the fall, and he wanted to explore for a few months before he started the program.
He and my parents had come to visit me in Paris not that long ago.
“We can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. FaceTime us when you’re with Cutler tomorrow so we can say hello,” Dad said.
“You’ve got it. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”
“Love you more, Gracie girl,” they said at the same time, just as we ended the call.
I spent the next hour organizing and cleaning before there was a knock on my door.
I groaned when I saw Gabriel through the peephole. We hadn’t spoken since we’d broken up, aside from a few messages he’d left for me, which I hadn’t returned. I pulled the door open.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” I said, my voice ice cold. This man didn’t deserve my time or my energy. He had some nerve showing up here.
“I came to say goodbye to you, my love.”
I tried not to physically show my repulsion as my hands fisted at my side, anger coursing through my veins.
My love?
He didn’t even know what the word meant.
He’d lied to me. Betrayed me. And I’d hoped I’d never have to see his face again.
I looked at him as I blocked the doorway. “I’m guessing you stopped in the café and heard I was leaving?”
“Yes. I gave you some time to cool down and thought maybe you’d be ready to talk about it, and then I found out that you’re leaving. Your age is showing, Gracie.”
He loved to pull the age card on me. He was a decade older than me, and anytime we disagreed about anything, he’d say it was due to my age, not the fact that he was an arrogant prick.
“And your ignorance is showing, Gabriel.” My lips formed a flat line.
“You broke up with me before you found out about the affair. So obviously we weren’t happy. We both weren’t happy. But we should have talked about it, not broken up.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his crisp white dress shirt buttoned down low enough to show a little chest hair.
Gabriel was physically attractive, there was no arguing it—but now that I knew who he was, I didn’t look at him the same way.
He’d changed so much from the moment we’d arrived in Paris, only to follow it up with broken promises and deceit.
We had nothing to discuss.
“Why do you care? You were sleeping with another woman.” I sighed. “And as shitty as I think that is, you are correct—we weren’t happy. This move was a huge mistake, and I’m ready to make it right.”
“Perhaps if you’d moved in with me like I’d suggested, and not chosen to live in this…” He flung his arms around as his temper started to show again. Anytime he didn’t get his way, he would find something to whine about. “This shit shack.”
“How eloquent of you.” I glared at him. “The only decision I’m proud of since moving here is that I trusted my gut about getting my own place. Otherwise, I would have felt trapped.”
“Trapped?” he scoffed. “I live in a goddamn penthouse in a neighborhood most people dream of living in. ‘Trapped’ is a bit dramatic, Gracie.”