My life had been one big goddamn ‘if’ since George Stone walked back into it. Everything I planned and everything I thought I knew would happen had been ripped away and torn into a thousand pieces. The certainty I prided myself on had been worn down, stripped back, destroyed. Now everything about me was uncertain.
How I’ll feel tonight, tomorrow, next week. What I’ll do when we get to Paris. What I’ll do when this trip is over. How I’ll feel. What I’ll want. Where I’ll go.
I knew none of it and I couldn’t even begin to contemplate it. I never thought I’d see George again, and when I did, pulling away that certainty, he made me his client. I let go of the freedom and ignored my gut. Then he didn’t want to be my client anymore, and in one traitorous beat of my heart, I agreed.
I agreed
