I lift my phone and snap a picture of myself, my hair blowing in the breeze and the city behind me. I send it off before I can overthink it.

Me: There. Happy?

And because he wouldn’t be Easton if he didn’t make me completely question my actions, he doesn’t reply. I shake my head and tuck my phone back in my purse.

Focus on the moment, Shay. You can text Easton later.

I take one deep breath after another as I look out over this city I’ve dreamed about visiting for so long, trying to breathe it in. I want to remember everything, and not just the view but the feeling. My love for Paris isn’t all that different than the feelings I once had for Easton—an acute longing I could never quite explain, years of expecting it to change, and then this feeling of rightness while I’m here.

I wipe tears from my cheeks and sigh. I’m an emotional mess right now, but I love it. I might not be able to have Easton, but I’m claiming this city. She’s mine, and I’m coming back someday—without Steve and without the college group.

“I’ll come back when I can see all of you,” I whisper. “And we’ll really get to know each other.”

“Are you talking to the tower or the city?”

My heart stops before slowly thudding back to life. Easton? I spin around at the sound of that deep voice I haven’t heard in so long.

Easton gives a wide, goofy smile and steps closer. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your private conversation.”

I shake my head, try to rehinge my jaw. There’s no way this is real. Just no way.

He takes another step closer. He rakes his gaze over me, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to make sure I’m okay—as if the breakup could have left a physical mark on me—or if he’s looking at me. God, I want it to be both, but the nagging, insecure part of me reminds me of the weight I’ve gained and of the flawlessly beautiful pop star he’s been seeing.

“Paris suits you.”

“What are you doing here?”

He cups my face in his big hands and wipes away my tears with his thumbs. “You’ve waited your whole life for this trip, and that ass ruined it. I couldn’t have that.”

I open my mouth to explain that I’m not crying because of Steve. He sucks, and the timing of the breakup was rotten as hell, but we’ve been going through the motions in our relationship for a while. These are happy tears. But I don’t get the chance to explain, because Easton dips his head and sweeps his mouth over mine.

I must be dreaming.