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It was a text from Kennedy. I read it quickly.
“Anthony, I need you to stop on the way to the airport,” I announced. The blood pounded between my ears.
“We’re running tight on time.”
I balled my fists in my lap. “I don’t care. We’re going to make a stop. I’ll send the address to the car’s GPS right now.”
“Okay, sir. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I linked the address to the car, and I saw it pop up on his screen. I reached into my carry-on. I had made one stop between the bank and my father’s office this morning. The jeweler had called and said my order was ready for pickup. I tucked the velvet box in my pocket.
I didn’t know what Kennedy had to say to me, but it better be worth missing the flight to Paris.
The car stopped and I climbed out. My legs stretched long. I heard the piano before I walked inside. Marguerite smiled. Her red shawl was pinned with a red rose tonight.
“Your lady friend is already waiting for you.” She grinned knowingly. “I remembered her.”
“You remember everyone, Marguerite.” I stooped to kiss her on each cheek.
“I don’t have that many customers,” she replied.
“That’s the charm of the place.” I moved past her into the candlelit bar. My eyes landed on Kennedy, sitting at the same table we had shared nearly a month ago.
Her hair cascaded around her shoulders. It was more blond and sun-kissed now than when we had met. She was wearing a black jumpsuit. She somehow made jersey material look sexy as hell. She was breathtaking in every way and I had fucked up any chance we had.
“Hi.” I stood at the edge of the table.
“Hi.” She looked up. Her eyes shimmered. The flame on the candle sputtered as the wax dripped. “I didn’t know if you would show up.”
I pulled the chair away from the table. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” I replied.
I looked around. “Where’s Kimble?”
“At home. I wanted to see you alone.”
I sat. I wanted her to know how sorry I was we had traveled so far from where we started. I took responsibility for destroying the first glimmer of light in my life. For humiliating her. For pushing her away. For breaking her trust. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to tell her all of it. It didn’t help that Anthony was outside, keeping the car running.
“Thank you. For meeting me. I know it’s strange after what happened today.”
“What? This awkward? How you annihilated me at the bank?” I tried to smile, but there was tension in my chest keeping my lungs from taking a full breath. It was hard to believe these were my last minutes in New Orleans.
“It wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was business. Isn’t that what you told me?” she asked plainly.
I shook my head. “It was stupid of me. Fuck, Kennedy. We became parts of the game. And neither one of us won today. We should have played it our own way. I’m sorry it’s ending this way.”
“What do you mean ending?” Her eyes darted back and forth. It was hard to imagine I wasn’t going to see them again. The green flames I dreamed about.
“I’m taking the red-eye to Paris tonight.”
Her face paled. “Why? For how long? When are you coming back?”
“I’m not.”
“But that can’t be—”
“It doesn’t matter why. I’m leaving tonight and I’m not coming back to New Orleans. I’m taking over all the Corban operations in Paris. We have an extensive vineyard operation in the champagne business. You’d probably love it, actually. Did you order any? I can ask Marguerite to bring you a ’98—”
