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“And I want to put that right. I can’t wait until next month. Just get on the bloody plane tomorrow!” His exasperation surprises me, dragging my stupid heart back in his direction.
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll send you kittens. Think of the kittens—I don’t believe they should be subjected to your living conditions, so do it for them!”
I can’t help laughing at him. “Bryn Hughes, you’re a strange man.”
“And you, Avery Paige, are infuriating, and I need to see you. I fucked up. Don’t make me ask again, otherwise, I’ll give up.”
Bryn ends the call, taking me by surprise at his abruptness. He’s put the ball firmly in my court. I either subject myself to a free holiday weekend in France with a man who flipped my world upside down and I can’t seem to put it right again, or I risk never seeing him again.
I’m pushing my luck when I send the final text:
There’s a fine balance between asserting my desire not to be messed with and missing out on what my heart secretly feels is meant to be. The plane tickets he sent the other day rest on my nightstand and I pick them up.
Damn you, Bryn Hughes, and your sneaky burrowing into my heart and soul.
