Honestly? In this day and age, why did he need to pretend? Well, she’d asked him that question directly.
It’s my father. He’s homophobic, okay? I’ll lose the trust fund.
God! So, all of this was for the money? He’d deceived her for years just so he could maintain his precious lifestyle?
Not that she’d minded the lifestyle. It was what had kept her from making demands, from thinking too hard about the lack of intimacy and passion she’d yearned for. Parker’s generosity seemed proof enough he loved her, and she’d been so wrapped up in their perfect life, she’d failed to see what was happening right in front of her.
With bottle in hand, Jasmine wove toward the window, pushing the drapes aside so she could admire the view.
And what a view. The rounded Parisian rooftops, the Eiffel Tower—so close she could practically lick it. The view was the reason Jasmine had chosen this suite, a dream come true...
Opening the French doors, Jasmine stepped out onto the wrought-iron balcony. Fresh air. That was what she needed. She plunked herself down in the chair and set the bottle on the glass-topped bistro table as she gazed out at the magnificent sight.
And she had no one to share it with. She was completely and utterly alone. She sighed, slumping with the weight of self-pity. Wasn’t she allowed? She’d been ready to give Parker everything, thinking he’d felt the same way. She shut her eyes. Maybe her ex-fiancé cared for her, even loved her, like he’d said. But it wasn’t the kind of love she’d thought it was. The love she’d always craved. And she wasn’t ready to forgive him for tricking her into believing that it was. Her phone chirped, and Jasmine automatically glanced down. Another message from Ashley. Tapping on the message app, she skimmed the messages.
Jazz? Are you okay? Call me.
Please, let me know you’re okay.
Your parents are worried. You should call them.
Jazz? Are you in Paris?
Instead of replying to the text, Jasmine touched the FaceTime button. Her best friend answered immediately. The video was grainy, but Jasmine could still see the dark circles beneath Ashley’s hazel eyes and that her fine blond hair had yet to be combed.
“What time is it there?” Jasmine asked by way of a greeting.
Ashley blinked. “It’s twenty to ten.”
“In the morning?”
Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “I knew it. You went to Paris, didn’t you?”
“See for yourself,” Jasmine said, panning her phone to give Ashley a panoramic view of the Paris skyline.
“Holy shit,” she heard Ashley comment. “Nice.”
Switching the screen back to face her, Jasmine half smiled. “It’s nicer now that I have you to share it with.” She sighed. Damn if her lip didn’t start quivering. “If I had been thinking clearly, I would have changed the other ticket and brought you with me.” Her lip quivered for real and she covered her mouth to quell the shaking.
“If you had been thinking clearly, you would have at least told me—told someone—what you were doing. Jesus, Jazz. We’ve been so worried.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just...” She had to stop talking because the trembling in her lips spread across her face, pricking the backs of her eyes until tears spilled over her lashes. She shook her head since words were impossible at the moment.
“Have you talked to Parker?” Ash asked softly.
“No.” Jazz wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m not going to, either.”
“Understandable. What about your parents?”
“I will.” She passed back through the French doors into the hotel suite and plopped down at the table, plucking a sweating strawberry from the plate and popping it into her mouth.
“So, what are you going to do?” Ash asked. “God, those strawberries look good, by the way.”
Jazz grabbed another berry and bit into it. “They are good. Really sweet.” Her voice cracked on the last word and the chocolate-covered berry suddenly tasted like ashes in her mouth. She swallowed the lump with difficulty.
After a pause, Ashley piped up, “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.”
“What?”
“You are going to have yourself an adventure.”
“An adventure?”
“Yep. You want to forget about Parker? Go have fun. Do all the things that you want to do. Shop on the Champs-Élysées, go on wine tours and see the sights. Hell, take a train to Monte Carlo and rack up Parker’s credit cards.”
Something hot yet icy lanced Jasmine’s gut. “Oh, God. The credit cards.” She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t want to use them.”
“What do you mean?” Ash asked, leaning closer to her phone camera. “After all you’ve been through? You deserve to spend some of Parker’s money.”
“No. I can’t do it. I can’t live off of him anymore. It’s just so...” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Symbolic of my life with him. Dependent and lame.”
Even from across the distance, Jasmine heard Ashley’s deep inhalation, followed by a long exhalation. “But, how are you going to survive if you don’t?”
The reminder that she had no way of supporting herself slammed through Jasmine. When she’d met Parker she’d been working as a stylist in an upscale salon. She’d liked the job—loved it, actually—but as her relationship with Parker progressed, they’d seen little reason for her to keep it. He made more than enough to support them.
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think about money before I left.”
Ashley rubbed her jaw, her gaze sliding up and to the side as she considered this possibility. Her gaze returned to the screen. “Where’s the ring?”
“What ring?”
“Duh...your engagement ring?”
Jasmine’s gaze automatically searched her ring finger only to find it bare. Her purse! She reached inside, found the cold platinum and held it in front of the phone for Ashley to see.
“Get rid of it.”
“Like, chuck it?”
“No! That thing cost Parker a fortune. Go sell it. Use the money to do something wild and crazy. And whatever’s left? That’s what you use to start over.”
Jazz held the ring up, seeing it in a new light. Could she do that?
Hell, yes, she could. The ring was hers. Parker had given it to her when he said he’d love her forever. Now she was heartbroken, fucked over and desperately in need of a break. Parker probably wouldn’t even care.
Jazz bit her lip. “I’ll sell the ring, but I don’t know how to do ‘wild and crazy’.”
“Oh, my God.” Ashley slapped her forehead. “I’ve known you most of my life and if there is anyone who knows how to be wild, it’s you.”
“Ash...”
“Don’t Ash me. You know what you need?”
“A drink?” Jazz held the champagne bottle aloft.
“I think you’ve self-medicated enough,” Ash replied with pursed lips. “No. Here’s what you need. Go find yourself some smoking-hot Frenchman who knows how to treat a woman. And then you need to have a month of raunchy, nasty, awesome sex.” She snapped her fingers. “A sex-venture.”
“A sex-what?” Jasmine rolled her eyes.
“I’m