All of Me (Inside Out #5.5)(11)

I don’t want to feel like I’m in a fish bowl when I get married, and I don’t believe that’s what Chris wants either, but I can see Katie’s excitement spiraling out of control. A conversation about the wedding planning with her and Chris is clearly needed.

“Let’s go back to dresses,” Chantal says, removing her iPad from her purse and setting it on the table. “I want to show you some of the designers you have to choose from right here in Paris.”

The macarons arrive and I end up lost in sweet treats and gorgeous dresses, fretting that the fancy gowns I love would be overdone for the size of the wedding I truly want.

When Chantal hears my concern, she says, “Even if it’s just you and Chris, you wear what you want to wear.”

The hour passes by quickly and by the time we’ve paid our bill, I’m officially excited about visiting a few designers. I’m marrying the love of my life. I want to enjoy every second of it.

As Chantal and I stand and slip into our coats I say, “Chris should be done soon, but I was thinking of strolling the shops nearby until he calls. Want to join me?”

“I’m always up for shopping,” she agrees eagerly. “Let me buy some pastries for my grandmother before we go.”

“Go ahead,” I say. “I’ll just step outside and try to confirm with Chris how much time we have.”

“Perfect.” She hustles away and I pull my phone from my purse as I step outside, almost running into a man on the sidewalk.

I gasp as his hands come down on my arms and I blink up at an all too familiar face. “Tristan.”

“Amazing how small the world is when we all live a few blocks apart. Maybe too small.” He lets go of one of my arms and uses the other to drag me forward.

I stumble and my mind races in circles that get me nowhere. “What are you doing?” I demand.

He stops, and though he releases me, I now have a wall at my back and him at my front. “We need to talk.”

“Yes,” I agree, hugging myself against the cold. He is taller and bigger than I thought. “Yes, we do. Chris—”

“Will drag you down just like he did Amber. Open your eyes, and see beyond the money and the power.”

Indignant, my hands go to my hips. “I don’t care about his money and power. I love him.”

“Right. Whatever makes you feel better in the morning. Get out while you can.”

I open my mouth to defend Chris but stop myself, certain that he’s baiting me and wanting to turn the tables on him. “Amber would want you to have The Script and the apartment.”

“Even if I was willing to take Chris Merit’s blood money, which I’m not, I can’t stand to be anywhere that reminds me of Amber—and that includes The Script. I’m getting the hell out of this place.” His lips thin; his expression tightens. “She was just like you, you know? She didn’t need a whip. She didn’t need pain. He did that to her. He’ll do it to you.”

“Chris didn’t—”

“Don’t,” he spits, running a hand through his long hair, the wind licking at the loose locks. “Don’t tell me what he did or didn’t do. He kept her close to him, like a pet. I tried to get her into rehab I don’t know how many times, and she wouldn’t go. She used him against me, pushing me away, always throwing around Chris’s damned name.”

“Did you tell Chris you were trying to get her into rehab?”

“Chris wasn’t supposed to matter,” he says through his teeth. Pain ripples through the words. “He wasn’t supposed to matter.”

“Tristan—”

“She was obsessed with him, and I see the way you look at him. You’re just like her.”

“It wasn’t Chris she wanted, Tristan. It was about pain. Pain she was running from. She didn’t want to face how deep it ran, and you made her face it.”

“Stop pretending that you knew her.”

“I know what I saw in her eyes. I know what I felt when she reached out to me.”

“You know nothing—and that’s the problem. Get out of his world while you’re still whole. I didn’t, and clearly, neither did Amber.” He turns and starts walking.

“Tristan,” I call out, shocked when Chantal, who has just emerged from Ladurée, calls his name at the same time.

I look to my left as she takes off running after him. “Chantal!” I shout, racking my brain to try to remember if they were ever at the house at the same time, and shocked when she actually grabs his arm.

I hold my breath for his reaction, watching as he faces her, saying something that she reacts sharply to, her hand dropping away. He starts walking again and she shouts at him. He turns yet again and they exchange words, and I’m certain they know each other well. Tristan gives Chantal his back, his pace fast and unstoppable this time, but she relentlessly chases after him.

“Chantal,” I call out, not even certain when I started running after her, but I am, cutting between the people on the sidewalk. “Chantal!”

She stops abruptly, turning toward my voice as if she’s suddenly remembered that I even exist.

“What are you doing?” I ask, catching up to her, my breathing heavy, the cold air biting at my lips and nose.

“I need to go after him. He’s . . . he’s not good right now.”