Page 44 of When Ben Loved Jace (He Loved Him #2)

Something is wrong. This trip should be the pinnacle of our relationship. We’re in Paris. The city of love! And sure, it has been a wonderful vacation so far. But something is most definitely off.

Jace is weirdly distracted. Like when we took a ride down the Seine the other night, he kept looking around.

Which granted, is exactly what most people do when on a boat, but instead of marveling at the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame as we glided by, Jace kept examining our immediate surroundings.

The rows of chairs, the deck, our fellow passengers…

Almost as if he’d been worried about running into someone.

That seems unlikely. Jace never suggested that we visit any of his friends while here.

This is his first trip to Paris too, aside from layovers…

which are just long enough to have a fling.

Jace always has the opportunity to have affairs, but I generally don’t worry about such things, because I trust him.

Over the past three years we’ve been together, that trust has never been broken.

So why suspect him of anything now, so far from home? And I wouldn’t, except…

Just the other day at the hotel, after I got out of the shower, I heard Jace talking on the phone.

He was speaking French, which isn’t too surprising.

He always tries to pick up the basics of the local language, no matter where we go.

Me? I’d rather speak English extra loud and slow for the natives.

Or when ordering at a restaurant, I’ll simply point at the menu.

Not Jace. He’ll rattle off practiced sentences, charming both the server and myself in the process.

For him to attempt a phone call in a foreign language is unprecedented.

When he realized that I was standing there listening, he immediately hung up and spun around, as if caught.

“Just getting some advice,” he explained without being prompted.

I would have simply shrugged that off, had it been the only oddity.

On our first night here, after we checked into our room, Jace ventured out to buy drinks and snacks.

While he was gone, I unpacked our bags, filling the drawers with clothes and the bathroom with toiletries. I was finishing up when he returned.

“What are you doing?” Jace demanded, as if I’d done something wrong.

“Getting organized,” I explained .

He just stood there, his face burning, as if waiting for me to challenge him on something.

But what? I hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary when unpacking.

No surprise gifts. No love letters addressed to Pierre.

Not even embarrassing medications like hemorrhoid cream.

I couldn’t figure it out then, and I’m just as puzzled now, because it’s our final day here and I woke up to find myself alone.

Being the dedicated detective that I am, I rise to use the restroom before retreating immediately to the bed again.

I’ll crack the case from here while resting my weary legs, because we’ve done an ungodly amount of walking.

Jace had the whole trip planned out, ensuring we’d see all the most important sights.

And he certainly didn’t spare any expense when booking this room.

We usually rely on well-known hotel chains, since he racks up enough points in his line of work that we get to stay for free.

This time he booked a charming little studio apartment on a residential street, complete with its own balcony.

Clearly he decided to spoil me in this way to make up for the secret affair he’s been having while I sleep at night.

That must also be why he exhausts me with a new adventure each day.

So devious. So calculating! I don’t believe any of that of course.

If it was any other guy, I’d be checking his phone, reading deleted emails, going through his pockets, and whatever else it took to catch him in the act.

The wonderful thing about Jace is that I feel completely safe with him.

Secure. So while I am concerned that something is going on, at worst, he’s dealing with a personal matter that he’s not ready to reveal.

Like how he needed time to open up about Victor completely.

Such things can’t be forced, so I relax, think about all the fun we’ve had on this trip, and sigh contentedly.

When the door to our apartment finally opens, Jace enters with bags in each hand, an alluring scent reaching my nose.

“How does breakfast in bed sound?” he asks.

“Amazing!” I say, sitting up in excitement. But when he sets the bags on the kitchenette counter and opens the curtain, I change my mind. “Actually, can we eat out on the balcony?”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“Do you need any help?” I ask in tones that relay just how lazy I’m feeling.

“No no, monsieur, ” he says with a generic French accent. “ Please! I would not dream of it. We will take care of everything!”

I’m a lucky boy. All I have to do is lay there and watch as he gets everything ready. Although I do sit upright when I notice him carrying a bottle.

“Is that champagne?”

“Come find out,” he says seductively.

I finally drag my rumpled ass out of bed.

Jace continues the waiter act, escorting me to a wrought iron table and matching chairs so he can seat me before a small buffet.

I honestly couldn’t name what most things are, but there’s a variety of pastries and breads, both sweet and savory.

Most crucially of all, already waiting on the small plate set before me, is a croissant.

I like the cheap kind we get at home, but here they are especially delicious.

Incredibly so! I’ve eaten an embarrassing number of them this trip.

I’m reaching for the croissant when a sudden pop! makes me flinch.

“And of course, you cannot have breakfast, wizzout ze champagne!” Jace says as he begins to pour.

“I think you slipped into a German accent there,” I tease him.

“I better stick to my own then,” he says, finishing his work before settling down on the other side of the table.

“Champagne for breakfast,” I say, shaking my head in wonder. “How decadent!"

He raises his glass. “Not if it’s served with a French toast.”

I laugh before raising my own. “To an amazing vacation?” I suggest.

He shakes his head. “To us.”

We clink glasses, his eyes sparkling for me as we each take a sip. “Just don’t drink it too fast,” he says after setting his down.

“Why? Is it expensive?”

“No. Well, yes, but I don’t want you to get drunk.”

“Are you suggesting that I can’t handle my liquor?” I ask sternly before smiling, because we both know the sad truth.

“Just get some food in your belly first,” he suggests, nodding at the croissant.

“You don’t have to ask twice,” I say, biting a corner.

“I’m hoping once will be enough,” he murmurs.

I don’t get the reference, but that’s okay, because I’ve just remembered a funny story.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I got drunk? Me and Allison decided, at the ripe old age of fourteen, that we were ready for a grownup experience. Her dad had rum he’d received as a gift from someone.

He doesn’t drink at all anymore, but when he did, he preferred whiskey, so the bottle sat there completely ignored.

We must have watched it for months to be sure he wasn’t interested.

Allison moved the rum to a different cabinet instead of taking it outright, which was a brilliant strategy, because if her dad noticed it was gone… Well, you get it, right?”

I tend to gesture when I talk, Jace’s eyes tracing the croissant as it loops through the air. He gently places his hand on mine to lower it.

“You’re getting crumbs everywhere,” he says.

“Sorry. Anyway, once certain the bottle wouldn’t be missed, we took it out to the woods to this tree where we used to pretend to be pirates, because that seemed the most appropriate setting to drink rum.

Very mature of us, don’t you think? We took turns taking swigs and retching, hating every minute of it, but we got enough down to feel tipsy.

Which was fun, at first, but being the geniuses we were, we’d chosen to do this on a school night and had to go home for dinner.

Which made us nervous. Allison had brought a pack of gum with her, but we kept thinking how easy it was to smell when her dad had been drinking, so a single piece wasn’t enough.

We ended up splitting an entire pack, so by the time I made it home, I was chewing such a big wad that I could barely speak.

Like…” I grab the croissant and cram half of it in my mouth to demonstrate.

Jace shoots to his feet. “Ben!”

“Wha?”

“Don’t bite down!”

“Huh?”

“Or at least, chew very very slowly. And carefully.”

He acts like I’ve just shoved a bomb into my mouth. I don’t get it.

Jace takes the remaining half of the croissant from me and examines it. The tension leaves him again. “Never mind. You’re okay.”

“Wha d’yew mean?”

“Just chew and swallow,” he says while laughing.

I fix him with a quizzical expression while doing so .

“I was hoping to surprise you,” he explains. “I’ve been trying to find the right way to do it for the entire trip.”

“Do what?” I ask after forcing myself to swallow.

“This.”

Jace walks around to my side of the table. Then he lowers himself to one knee, bringing him eye-level with me.

“You’ve made me incredibly happy,” he begins.

My heart starts thumping. I quickly brush the crumbs off my face and wish I’d made myself presentable after waking up, because OH MY FREAKING GOD!!!

“And I don’t just mean the especially good times,” Jace continues, “like these trips we take together. I enjoy getting to travel with you, but even when we’re home…

Having someone to share each meal with, or snuggle with when watching TV—those moments are just as magical.

I adore how good you are with Samson, and the way you smile each time he hops onto your lap.

All those little domestic scenes are exactly what I dreamt of as a lonesome teenager.

Getting to spend my life with someone who lets me love them, and who loves me in return, is a dream come true.

I never want it to end, so why not make it last forever?

” He holds up half a croissant. “Oh. Hold on.” Jace digs around inside the pastry and pulls out a ring. “I love you, Ben. Will you marry me?”

I cover my mouth with both hands, laughing before my feet start stomping, because I cannot handle how gleeful this makes me! I’ve gotta put all that joy somewhere, so I drop my hands and press my lips against his, only pulling away again to assure him of the obvious answer. “Yes!”

Jace flashes a smile and tosses the mauled croissant on the table, Then, with much more reverence, he takes my hand and slides on the ring, which is a perfect fit.

“So buttery!” I say while admiring it.

He laughs. “Obviously, this didn’t go exactly as planned.”

“Which was what, exactly?”

Jace sighs in exasperation as he stands again. “I’ve been improvising.” He moves his chair closer to mine before sitting. “I knew I wanted to propose on this trip because, well, it’s Paris.”

“Good call,” I say, nodding in approval.

“I hid the ring in a pair of my jeans. In the little pocket that’s always inside the right pocket, to be specific. What’s that for, anyway? ”

“No idea, but that explains your reaction when I unpacked everything.”

“I was worried you had found the ring, or worse, that it had fallen out and gotten lost because you didn’t know to be careful.

I’ve been carrying it with me ever since.

I thought about proposing during the boat ride, but there were too many other people around.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ashamed. I’m proud of my love for you.

I just wanted the proposal to be romantic, and I figured it would be better to charter a private boat on a different night—”

“Was that the call I interrupted?”

Jace laughs. “Uh… no. We only had one day left at that point, and the boats were all booked, so I came up with a different plan. You had just discovered macrons the day before, and I wondered if the ring could be baked into one somehow—maybe while sticking out of the top—but between my broken French and the ridiculous idea, the chef thought an American was calling to ask if he’d make donuts.

And he wasn’t pleased, so I was glad for the excuse to hang up.

That brings us to today, when I was getting desperate, but I’d watched you eat a croissant each morning and knew that you always started by tearing them in half. ”

“Except I didn’t this time,” I say with a grimace.

“No, you didn’t, which just about gave me a heart attack. I thought for sure that if you didn’t choke on the ring, you’d at least break a tooth. Or that the ring would go flying off the balcony when you were waving the croissant around.”

I shake my head ruefully. “This is why most guys opt for a little black box. You know, the kind that’s designed for keeping a ring safe and secure?”

“I wanted it to be memorable,” Jace says with a smile.

“Like I’ll ever forget this moment!” I bite my lower lip, only releasing it again to ask, “So what’s next?”

“We’ll have breakfast,” Jace says, “while getting a little tipsy like two teenagers who think they are pirates. Then I’m going to carry you to bed and make love to my fiancé for the first time.

Afterwards, we can talk about how the big day should go.

Unless you want to leave the wedding planning to me, in which case, I’d advise you to review everything I just revealed. ”

I chuckle. “Let’s make it a team effort this time.”

Jace takes his glass and hands me my own, his gaze filled with adoration. “I’ll drink to that.”