Page 58 of The Best Wild Idea (Off-Limits #3)

Juliet

I’m wiping away a fresh slew of tears by the time I’m finished reading it and have to get up to grab a tissue from the table nearby. On the way, I drag open the curtains near the black marble fireplace on the wall, gasping when I see what’s right outside the glass.

There she is.

The view Grant promised in his letter.

The Eiffel Tower stands practically up alongside me, almost close enough to touch, but far enough out that I can see the whole thing glistening from top to bottom just outside the floor-to-ceiling balcony of our suite.

I stand there for a moment to take it all in, grateful to have made it here to my final destination, the letter still clutched in my hand.

On a small table beside the window, there’s a bottle of champagne on ice, and beside it, a long white box. I lift the lid and stare down at what’s inside.

Grant’s very last words to me fade from view as new tears fill my eyes.

Unsure how to feel, I leave the box and settle into the nearest couch, pulling a heavy blanket over my lap to read the last letter again, before tucking it into the envelope where I know it’ll stay until we arrive back home.

I glance at my phone screen to check the time, wondering how long I have until Silas bursts through that door, suddenly missing him all over again.

But instead of Silas’ name, there are over a dozen missed calls and a few texts from Andy.

My stomach cinches in a tight little knot the moment I get the first text to open, then I quickly scan the rest, now aware of why none of the new messages or missed calls are from Silas himself.

I pull up Andy’s phone number to call him as fast as I can.

“Jules.” Andy sounds panicked when he picks up the phone on the second ring. “Did you get my messages?”

I nod silently at the phone, unable to form any words yet, feeling the weight of what his texts just revealed. The events of the last twenty-four hours now threatening to crush me.

“There’s been an accident, honey. They — they didn’t see him crossing the street outside the airport. I’ve sent a car over to you. It should already be downstairs—”

I don’t hear the rest of what Andy’s saying because I’m already racing toward the elevator to go join him.

* * *

Hours later, Silas and I slowly make our way into the suite at Le Petite Fleur . Andy is behind us, carting Silas’ luggage down the hall toward our room. He insisted on staying with us to help me get Silas into bed, but I assume it’s also to make sure that I don’t bolt on him again.

It’s only a fractured elbow, and a nasty cut above his eye, but it was enough to give me quite the scare.

Even worse for Andy, who was right beside him when the bike came out of nowhere.

He saw the whole thing happen and I can tell that he isn’t too keen on leaving Silas’ side just yet.

Especially since, just a few hours ago, I wasn’t even civil enough to take any of Silas’ calls.

I don’t blame Andy for wanting to keep an eye on him personally, given the events of today.

“Promise me you’ll stay with him this time, honey. No running off to Amsterdam or Machu Picchu or somewhere else the first opportunity you get. It was hard enough to keep up with you this time,” he says, after we’ve tucked Silas into his bed.

The view of the Eiffel Tower outside all the windows in the suite is exactly as Grant described it to me, now lit from top to bottom against the black night sky. It’s stunning, and I wish we were all in a more jovial mood to enjoy it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, somberly. Then add, “I don’t even know if my passport would allow it, to be honest.”

He chuckles.

“Well, no point in checking that out right now,” he says, stifling a smile. “He’s going to need you here the next couple days at least. But if you do need to go anywhere, please call so he’s not stranded here all alone. I’ll come just the second you need me.”

“I’m not leaving him, Andy,” I repeat, touching his arm. “I promise.”

“And I’m not deaf or mute, you two,” Silas pipes up from the bed. “I’m perfectly capable of hearing.”

Andy raises his brows at me, then places Silas’ phone within his reach on the nightstand.

“I’m calling you every other hour to make sure this one is still here,” Andy says to Silas, eyeballing me.

“No need, Andy,” I assure him, smiling. “But you’re welcome to call Silas repeatedly if that’ll make you feel better. However, if we don’t answer, it’s not because I’m not here.”

I smile wider at him, wishing I had handled things more civilly instead of trying to disappear, throwing everyone into a frenzy. I already feel guilty, like this never would have happened to Si if I’d just given him the chance to explain everything the way Grant’s letter did for me.

“Well, in that case, maybe I’ll start the calls tomorrow then,” he says, a nosy smile playing on his lips. “Give you two a chance to get reacquainted tonight without me interrupting, I suppose. Go easy on him though.”

I grin and start pushing him toward the hallway. “I can’t promise that.”

I shut the door behind Andy, thankful he was there with Silas when it happened.

When we’re finally alone, I walk toward the open doorway of his bedroom to get him a glass of water so he can take the pain medicine the doctor sent him away with.

I pause at the entrance, studying him more carefully while he watches the glittering view outside our window.

His arm is in a cast, slung up around his shoulder with a sling.

The cut above his eye has been stitched up, but it’s still swollen, casting a dark bruise over his brow that makes him look more exhausted than he already is.

Thankfully, the bump on the back of his head is hidden by his hair.

I could have lost him today. The doctor who stitched him up said he got very lucky that the biker who hit him only got a side-swipe in, but he was going fast enough to have done some real damage if Silas had been hit straight on.

I shudder to think of what could have happened, and how he could have been hurt badly, or worse, all while thinking I was never going to speak to him again.

The thought of it nearly brings me to my knees, as I recall every word of Grant’s letter, and how this should have all ended so differently.

I’ve already learned how quickly you can lose someone you love.

Silas has only ever looked out for me, even when I couldn’t look out for myself. And yet, I’d left him today at the first sign of a conflict.

It’s me who doesn’t deserve him .

“Hey, stranger,” he says, smiling at me as I stand in the doorway. Even though his face is marred by the gash, he’s still more handsome than any man in Paris. Possibly the world.

“Hey.” I force a smile, to stop any more tears from falling, unsure if I have any left in me after today. “How are you feeling? Do you need more pain meds? I was going to get you a glass of water. More pillows from the desk downstairs maybe?”

“I’m feeling a lot better after whatever they gave me at the hospital.” He grins, looking a bit loopy from the pain meds. “I think whatever they have here must be better than whatever they give people back in the States. I don’t feel one ounce of pain at this point.”

I chuckle, grateful he’s feeling better, then make my way over to sit beside him on the bed. We both look out at the Eiffel Tower for a few moments, the silence oddly comfortable between us, considering everything that’s happened.

Eventually, I turn to him, ready to apologize for running. Between the endless stream of doctors, nurses, and Andy who refused to leave his side, it’s the first time we’ve been truly alone since I got to the hospital.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him, my voice cracking.

“I’m sorry I left like that. I shouldn’t have disappeared.

I should have stayed and talked it through.

I’m sure you figured it out, but I need to tell you that I read your letter.

The one Grant wrote you. I shouldn’t have done that in the first place.

It was a huge invasion of your privacy and I apologize.

” He turns toward me, smiling faintly. I narrow my eyes, trying not to laugh at the look on his face.

“Maybe we should wait to talk about all this when you’re not so hopped up on pain meds? ”

“Nah, pain meds or not, it won’t change how I feel.

I knew you probably thought that letter was the one you’d gotten from the front desk that night.

The crew put it on the bathroom counter for me when they were unpacking my stuff.

You shouldn’t have had the chance to confuse it with yours, and they felt pretty bad about it when I asked how it happened. I don’t blame you for mixing them up.”

“Once I realized it was yours, not mine, I never should have read it.”

“But you did.”

“Yes, I did.” I frown.

“I wish you would have given me a chance to explain everything,” he says, resting his eyes.

“I planned to show you the letter at some point, but reading something like that without knowing the entire story behind it? It would have left me feeling the same way. I can’t imagine what was going through your head, especially right after we—”

He opens his eyes again and raises his eyebrows, recalling what we did last night.

Making love to him feels like it happened weeks ago, considering everything we’ve been through since.

I nod. “You’re right. It was too easy to take everything out of context. But then I got Grant’s letter at the desk this morning.”

He narrows his eyes. “How did you get them to give it to you without me?”

I swallow miserably. “I told them that you had an accident and couldn’t be here to sign for it.”

He erupts in laughter, then winces. “God, Jules, the irony of that.”

A tear spills out the side of my eye and he wipes it away. “I know. I’m so sorry, it’s like I vocalized your fate before it happened. You have no idea how guilty I felt when I found out.”

He laughs even more, and I’m glad he’s not mad.