Please Come Back, My Love novel Chapter 346

Please Come Back, My Love

Chapter 346

I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

I wiped my face quickly, forcing a smile that felt like broken glass. “Je vals bien,” I said softly. I’m okay.

He frowned, clearly not buying it, then held out the ice cream cone.

“Pour toi,” he said firmly. For you.

I blinked at him, then at the cone, which was now more of a sticky mess than an actual dessert.

“Non, c’est le tien,” I said, shaking my head. No, it’s yours.

But he just pushed it closer, his little face so earnest it made my chest ache.

“Ça va mieux,” he insisted. It will make you feel better.

And God help me, I believed him.

I took the cone with trembling fingers, and he beamed at me like I’d just given him a gift. Then his mother called from somewhere behind me, and he waved once before running off, leaving me sitting there with melted chocolate dripping onto my hand and tears streaming down my face.

I laughed a choked, broken sound-and brought the cone to my lips.

It tasted like sugar and kindness and everything I didn’t deserve.

But I ate it anyway.

By the time I made it to the restaurant Lucas had texted me about, the sun was setting, and I’d pulled myself back together.

I’d washed my face in a public restroom, reapplied the lipstick I’d bought with Lucas’s black card, and practiced my blank expression in the mirror until I could look at myself without flinching.

You can do this, I told myself. One more night. Then you’ll figure out the rest.

The restaurant was tucked into a quiet street in the Marais, all exposed brick and dim lighting and the kind of understated elegance that screamed money. I pushed open the door, and the hostess greeted me with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle. Do you have a reservation?”

Lucas’s eyes met mine, and I saw it-the challenge, the dare, the silent question. What are you going to do now?

Claire tilted her head, her smile widening.

And then it hit me.

If Claire was here, if she was sitting at this table with Lucas like she belonged there, then maybe-maybe-I didn’t have to be his dirty little secret anymore. In the days to come, he could finally let me go.

The thought was so intoxicating I almost laughed.

Claire stood, smoothing down her dress, and extended her hand like we were old friends.

“Good evening, Ms. Cruze,” she said, her voice smooth as silk and twice as sharp.

I stared at her hand, then at Lucas, then back at her.

And I forced myself to smile.

“Good evening.”