Page 8 of Boarding Pass (Hearts Without Borders #1)

Chapter eight

It’s been a perfect day.

Leading into a perfect night. Starting with dinner at my favorite hole-in-the wall restaurant, L’élan Secret , an intimate spot close to our hotel with rustic charm and an air of mystery.

I’ve been coming to for years. It doesn’t bother with signs or Instagram.

It’s not romantic per se, the tables are close enough to eavesdrop. The waiters treat you like family.

Perfect for our final night together.

Or is it?

The glow of a candle flickers between us. Miles leans back in his chair, watching me with a curious, half-smiling expression he’s worn since the moment we met.

“So.” He tilts his wine glass just enough to swirl it. “What was your favorite part of today?”

I pause, pretending to think, though the answer is obvious. “Easy. The crêpes.”

“You can’t say the crêpes. You’re cheating.” His grin widens.

“They were perfect,” I counter, smirking. “Fluffy, golden, perfectly drizzled Nutella. Miles, the crêpes carried the day.”

He laughs. A soft, warm guffaw drawing a glance from the next table. “I mean, they were terrific,” he leans forward, “but what about Parc des Buttes-Chaumont ? The bridge? The views? You didn’t stop talking about the light.”

“Well, yeah. The light was stunning,“ I admit. “But it didn’t beat the crêpes.”

“You have your priorities straight,” he teases, though his tone is laced with something heavier.

I take a sip of my wine, letting the silence stretch for a beat.

Our day together replays in my mind like a film montage: wandering through a small art gallery hidden behind an ivy-covered door in the Marais, laughing at the tiny bookshop where he found a graphic novel so old it practically disintegrated in his hands, walking along the quiet canal as the late-afternoon sun rippled over the water.

The whole day could be a rom-com movie of the Paris I love most. The version that is effortlessly enchanting without even trying.

Studying him, I take in the way the candlelight softens his features. His messy hair and the strong lines of his jaw. There’s an ease about him. It wasn’t there earlier, but something else, too. A kind of weight he hasn’t put into words.

“Okay.” I set my glass down. “Your turn. What was your favorite part?”

His gaze fixes on me with amusement. “ Hmmm . It’s tough.“ He quirks a brow. “I mean, the crêpes were obviously life-changing.”

“Obviously.” I nod .

“But…” He hesitates, glancing over my shoulder and back at me. “I think it was walking with you along the canal. The stretch where it was quiet, just us. It was…perfect.”

The way he says it makes my chest tighten, and I have to look away because it gives me all the feels. “It was.”

The waiter passes, offering wine, but I shake my head.

I’ve had enough. Miles waves him off too, resting his elbows on the table.

For a moment, the conversation stalls, but it’s not uncomfortable.

It feels…easy. Like there’s a ton of things unspoken between us and even though neither of us knows where to start, we’ll get there.

I’m not used to this. The ease. The connection. With Mark, I was always on edge. Waiting for him to find another thing to be pissed at me about. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself… feel anything like this. But is it real?

“So, you’re heading to Bordeaux tomorrow,” he says, addressing the elephant in the room. The clock is ticking.

“Yeah.” I rest my chin on my palm.

He looks down at the tablecloth nervously. “How long will you stay?”

“I dunno, I want to spend some quality time with them,” I admit. “They’re great, but it depends. It can be…a lot.”

He raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“They’re worried I’ve fallen apart after my breakup, though it’s been months now.

I guess they still treat me like I’m a teenager half the time,” I explain, laughing lightly.

“Every decision I make is either a concern or a critique. Every visit turns into a long list of suggestions about what I should be doing with my life. They mean well, but…” I trail off, shrugging.

He nods, like he understands completely. “Parents are complicated.”

“What about yours?” I tilt my head, studying him.

He runs his finger along the stem of his glass. “They’re also great,” he says conclusively. “But, yeah. Complicated. My dad was a professional hockey player—he’s a force. Big, loud, larger than life. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I never cared about sports the way he does.”

“Never?” I’m not surprised, but when a parent wants you to do something it’s not always your choice.

“Well, I didn’t hate it.” He shakes his head slightly.

“I preferred staying inside, glued to a screen, designing worlds and playing games. My mom left me alone—she was busy with Shay and her beauty pageants—but my dad…” He pauses, his smile turning faintly self-deprecating.

“Let’s just say we didn’t have a lot in common.

Snowboarding was the closest I got to something he could relate to. ”

“And your sister?” I’m curious about his twin.

“Shay.” His voice softens. “She’s…incredible.

She’s been through the wringer and remains tough as hell.

The thing is, when her epilepsy started getting bad in high school, all the family focus shifted to her.

My parents hovered, worried, made everything about keeping her safe.

I get it, but I kind of slipped through the cracks. ”

I continue to watch the way his fingers trace the edge of his glass. The way his voice tightens as he speaks. “Was it hard to be overlooked?”

“It was.” He leans back. “At the same time, it also gave me room to figure things out on my own. And Austin—my best friend—kind of filled the gaps. We’d been gaming together forever and it led to us designing and dreaming up what eventually became Hungry Llama.

We’ve been each other’s anchor for nearly twenty years. ”

“And now?” I sense a slight hint of melancholy and I hate it.

“Well.” He shrugs. “Now he’s engaged to Shay. Our company’s been sold, and…I don’t know. Everything I built my life around has moved on except for me. I’m not exactly sad. I’m convinced the future holds something amazing. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

Wow. I can’t even formulate a response. I feel a slight pang of doubt. Have I stepped into something bigger than I realized? Something I might not know how to handle?

Before I can dwell on it, the waiter returns with the check. Miles grabs his wallet before I can argue.

Outside, on the way back to the hotel, the air is cool and sweet, carrying the faint scent of flowers from the nearby park.

The street lamps cast long shadows across the cobblestones.

It feels like Miles and I have walked together like this for years and all my trepidation from a few moments ago disappears.

I don’t want this to end.

The words tumble out before I can think them through. “You could come with me.”

“To Bordeaux?” He stops in his tracks.

I nod a hair too vigorously. My cheeks heat up too. “It’s beautiful in the spring,” I blurt out. “And you don’t have any plans, do you? It wouldn’t be…weird, would it?”

“Weird, no. Bold, maybe.” His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile.

I wince. “Bold in a bad way?” I press, second-guessing myself.

“Sophie.” He wraps his arms around me and presses a kiss to my forehead. “It’s bold in the best way. But are you positive? I mean. Bordeaux. Your family. Me. You’ve known me for twenty-four hours. What will they think?”

“You wouldn’t have to meet them.“ I wave my hand like I can erase the implication. “Unless you wanted to. I mean, I wouldn’t… force anything. It’s just…“ I take a breath to steady myself before meeting his gaze. “I don’t want this to end tomorrow. Not yet.”

He studies me for a long moment. I can feel my stomach twisting as I wait for his response.

“Neither do I.” He kisses my on the lips this time and the knot in my chest begins to loosen.

I pretend to pick a piece of lint off his jacket. “So…we’ll figure it out?”

“We’ll figure it out,” he agrees. “I’ll book a hotel. Make some separate plans so you have quality time with them. Whatever makes you comfortable. But I’m in.”

Relief floods through me. “You’re in? Are you some sort of masochist? ”

“Apparently.” He throws his head back and laughs with his whole being.

Holy shit. He’s coming with me to Bordeaux.

As we continue our walk back, hand in hand, I let the worry drift away. For now, it’s enough to just enjoy this moment.

I’m going to let myself believe in the possibility of something big between us.

Even if I know it’s a long shot.