I understood exactly what she meant. “When do you think he’ll ask you to marry him?” I brought the mug to my lips and took a drink.

A smile moved on to her lips. “He already has.”

“What? Why are you asking me about my honeymoon, then?”

She laughed and held up her left hand, a simple band there.

I’d noticed it earlier, but since it didn’t have diamonds, I’d just assumed it was a ring she’d decided to wear on that finger. It wasn’t anything like mine, but it was perfect for her, perfect for them. “Aww, I’m so happy for you. How did he ask?”

We talked about it for a while, and it was a proposal that was ideal for her. Our coffees were depleted, and we picked at the muffins until nothing was left.

“Where do you want to get married?”

She looked out the window for a long time before she ripped off another piece of muffin and placed it in her mouth. “The chateau.”

We had been deep in the snow, a blizzard blowing around us, and she’d claimed to hear that bell. I couldn’t hear it—but maybe I wasn’t meant to. I gave her a smile. “It’s perfect.”

She nodded, emotion moving into her eyes. “I think so too.”

We sat together in silence for a long time, each of us reflecting on the events that led us here. I came to Paris looking for a trip over Christmas break, but in the end, I would never return to America.

Because it wasn’t my home anymore.

Fender was my home.

Magnus was hers.

All we’d had was each other—but now our family had grown.

“Melanie.” Her voice changed abruptly, dropping a few decibels, turning serious the way it did before she reprimanded me.

I’d thought her dislike of Fender was resolved, but perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps she wanted to request that he not be at her wedding. I braced for the impact.

“I’m sorry…for the way I’ve treated you.”

My eyes didn’t blink. My body was still. I stared at her because I had no idea what she meant by that.