Page 91 of One Midnight Kiss

“I told you,” I muttered, my voice hoarse. “I told her I love her.”

Wilder nodded slowly. “Yeah, you did.”

I let out a bitter laugh, sinking deeper into the couch. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? She took off like I just peed on her shoes.”

“Why do you think that is?” Wilder asked, like he was genuinely curious. It was so like him—calm, methodical, always trying to solve the puzzle. I was the spontaneous one, with an inventor’s personality that tended to be a little more eccentric. And more likely to lose my shit.

I shrugged. “I pushed her too far. Too soon. I don’t know why she doesn’t trust me yet.”

Christa made a small noise, drawing my attention. I glanced over at her, frowning. She was biting her lip, looking like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should.

“What?” I asked, meeting her eyes. “You obviously have something to say. My head hurts too much for reading between the lines. Please just tell me.”

“Hey,” Wilder said, his tone gruff. “Do you remember calling her a meddlesome nightmare?”

I grimaced. I didn’t remember saying it, but it made sense that I did. Part of me did blame her for pushing me toward Natalia. I fell and now I was hurt. I was angry and wanted someone to blame. But I could agree, this was on me. Christa didn’t force me to fall in love with a woman that didn’t want me.

“Christa, I’m sorry. You’re not a meddlesome nightmare.”

She waved it off, but her smile was strained. “I get it. I thought I was helping. I just wanted you two to find happiness, you know? I thought Natalia was stuck on some fantasy—this mystery man from Paris. It was eating her alive, and I thought if she saw what was right in front of her…”

“What did you just say?” I interrupted, my heart pounding in my chest.

Christa frowned. “I was saying I’m sorry too.”

“No, not that. The mystery man in Paris. Who is he?” My voice was sharp, demanding.

Christa blinked at me, clearly taken aback. “That’s the part you’re focused on?”

I nodded. “Humor me, please.”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “Natalia met a man at a party in Paris last year. On New Year’s to be exact. It was some exclusive party she was invited to. She’s been talking about him ever since, like he’s some kind of—I don’t know—fantasy prince. I thought she was clinging to false hope, holding on to this idea of him instead of moving on. I really thought you two would be good for each other. Something told me you guys were a perfect match.”

My mind reeled, the room tilting on its axis. “Natalia was at that party?”

Christa nodded slowly. “Yeah, why?”

I let out a laugh, but it sounded hollow, almost delirious. If I were them, I would think I was crazy. “Oh my God. She was there. The woman I met on that balcony. It was her.”

Wilder looked between us, confused. “What are you talking about?”

I stood up so fast that the room spun, forcing me to grab the back of the couch for balance. “I met a woman at that party, Wilder. I didn’t know her name. It was electric. We connected instantly, but then she ran off before I could even ask who she was. I thought I’d never see her again. I told you I met someone, but I didn’t get into specifics. It’s her! It’s fucking her!”

Christa’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. “Wait, you’re saying⁠—”

“It was Natalia,” I cut in, my voice rough with disbelief. “She was the woman on the balcony.”

Christa’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God. I had no idea. She told me all about the man on the balcony. She’s been waiting all year to see him again. You told her you would meet her there, same time next year, right?”

I laughed again, a little unhinged. “Yes! Of course you didn’t know. How could you? She didn’t know it was me, either. This whole time, we’ve been—” I broke off, running a hand through my hair. “This is insane. She’s been right here in front of me this whole time. I felt like I was cheating on the woman from Paris with Natalia. And I felt like I was betraying Natalia for thinking about the woman in Paris!”

Wilder nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place in his analytical mind. “So, what you’re telling us is that you’ve essentially been in love with the same woman twice over, without realizing they were the same person? That’s pretty wild.”

“Yes.” I nodded, pacing now, the energy of the revelation making it impossible to sit still. My hangover was gone. My blood was pumping as I replayed all those little moments that I dismissed, telling myself it was impossible. “Remarkable, ironic, crazy—call it whatever you want.”

Christa smiled in triumph. “Well, well, well. Looks like trying to get you together was the right move, after all. Who’s the meddlesome nightmare now, huh? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I fucking nailed it.”

“You absolutely did,” I said, grinning back at her. “More like a meddlesome dream.”