Evangeline

Nothing like being in Paris, the city of light and love, the capital of romance and sensuality…with your dad.


We've barely talked about Leonard and Carter. He obviously doesn't want to know anything about it. He's watching me, though, as if worried I'll crack.

And yeah, I've cried a lot, so maybe he's right to be concerned. But he's treating me as if I'm going to weigh myself down with stale baguettes and throw myself into the Seine.

The only thing he's said about Leonard and Carter is, 'I don't blame you, Pumpkin. None of this was your fault."


He does realize I'm twenty-six, doesn't he? It's not like I was groomed into fucking around with them. I went into it knowing that one, it probably wouldn't last, and two…it probably wouldn't last.

'Doing okay?" Dad asks as we leave the Louvre and start walking. We've been doing touristy things for the past week, his attempt to distract me. It's unsuccessful. All I can think about is Leonard and Carter. Was it all wrong? Do they really not care about me like I care about them?


They didn't fight for me, they didn't even say anything. Leonard could have told my dad that it was more, that it was meaningful…and he didn't.

The texts they've sent since, asking to talk—I haven't been able to respond. I'm too cowardly to hear them say how much fun they had, but that it's over.

And if they don't want to end things? That's just as scary. It would mean being honest with my dad and probably losing him, and I can't do that.

'Evangeline?" Dad prompts, bringing me back to the gray stone sidewalk, the ornate lamp posts, and a street seeped in so much history and culture it weighs on me, heavy.

'Yeah, I'm okay," I say.

He gives me a long glance, but I don't meet his eyes.

When my phone buzzes with a text, we both jolt. I hold it up like I need to reassure him. 'It's just another text from Mom about the wedding."

He visibly relaxes. 'Is she still mad?"

'A bit. But she's getting over it." She'd been furious when I called to tell her I was in France. The wedding date got moved up with no explanation. It'll be small and quiet, not the grand affair she wanted, although it'll still be held at the rose garden like she wanted. When I promised to return for the wedding to fulfill my maid of honor duties, she relaxed, but she's still not thrilled.

'Do you mind stopping in at this little café up here?" Dad asks. 'I want a crème de menthe."

'Sure," I say.

'You want one?" He grins.

'Nope." To play along, I pretend to gag like I did when he fixed this drink back in California. I must've been fourteen, and the minty alcoholic beverage reminded me of mouthwash.

As soon as we enter the café, a slight brunette woman stands at one of the tables and hurries over.

'Mark! It's very nice to see you, how are you?" she says in rapid French.

'Very good," Dad says. 'May I present my daughter, Evangeline."

'Enchantée," she says, kissing me on each cheek.

'Enchantée," I repeat. I send a bewildered look to my father.

Grinning, he says, 'Evangeline, this is Nicolette Delacroix. You spoke with her son, Antoine."

Before I can respond, Nicolette exclaims in French, 'There he is!"

Now the look I shoot my dad is pure exasperation. This is a set-up. But when I turn around, the man stepping into the café behind us is objectively beautiful. Deep, dark blue eyes, a strong jaw lightly dusted with stubble, cheekbones that models would kill for.

All three of them are smiling—Dad, Nicolette, and this new guy, Antoine.

Maybe if my heart weren't broken, I could manage to smile and make nice. But with the way things are, that's impossible.

Two men hold my heart, and they're an ocean away.

'I'm sorry," I say to Dad, Nicolette, and now Antoine. 'I'm not feeling well. I'll see you back at the hotel, Dad."

'Evangeline," he says, touching my shoulder and lowering his voice. 'Are you sure? We could have a nice meal after this. Antoine's friend owns a restaurant in this arrondissement, and?—"

'Dad, I'm not ready." I don't mean for my eyes to fill with tears, but it's not like I can control my emotions. Mom would jump all over me for this, and be furious that I'm stealing the spotlight with my emotions. Immediately ashamed, I look away and swipe at my eyes.

'Hey. It's all right." True concern shines from Dad's eyes. 'I shouldn't have sprung this on you. I wanted a fun surprise, but I did the wrong thing. We'll talk later, okay, Pumpkin?"

'Yeah." I'm surprised he's being so chill about his plans getting ruined. I keep forgetting that he's not like Mom.

Our hotel is only a couple of metro stops away from the Louvre, so I get there in no time and collapse on my bed. The sounds of the city are faint beyond the windows. I draw the curtains, blocking out the light.

I know I'm here so Dad can convince me to take this job. It is the opportunity of a lifetime. I shouldn't need much convincing. When Leonard couldn't say he loved me, it really opened my eyes to what was going on.

The whole affair was temporary. Kinky, fun, and temporary.

The problem? My tears are eternal.