The Layover - Cassie Cross

Chapter One

Standing on a terrace overlooking the nighttime skyline in Paris is, all-in-all, not a bad way to spend a Thursday evening. Especially one following a…challenging travel day, to put it nicely.

I’ve been living out of a couple of suitcases for the better part of the past four years, only making it home for the holidays and quick summer getaways. I’ve worked in Amsterdam, Berlin, Barcelona, Rome. What some people would consider a dream life of near-constant travel and frequently changing scenery has made me ache for the monotony of settling down. My contract in Rome was up at the end of last week. I have a new job and a new apartment waiting for me back home in Port City, and I’m excited to get my new life started.

After this last hurrah in Paris, that is.

I left my empty apartment in Rome early this morning, only to have my budget flight delayed about a thousand times thanks to a severe weather system that seemed to exist solely to cut into my baguette and cheese time here in France. Once my flight finally took off, we ended up stuck on the runway at Charles de Gaulle for nearly two hours. It was dark and I was hangry by the time I made it to the area where the car I’d hired to drive me to the city was supposed to be waiting.

I’d been emailing with a woman from the company all afternoon who had promised my car would be waiting. Not so much.

I wound up haggling with a grumpy taxi driver and after he dropped me off at my hotel, I dropped my bags off at the front desk, then stopped off at this lovely corner store filled with gourmet foods. The place was picked through so late in the day, but I managed to get a healthy serving of what turned out to be the world’s best au gratin and a mille-feuille.

“So, how does it feel to finally be free?” my best friend Lindsay asks over FaceTime.

I swallow my mouthful of food and sit down on the tiny wrought-iron chair that faces my magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower.

“Feels good. Looks good, too,” I say, flipping to the exterior camera on my phone so she can appreciate the beauty. “The view is great. As are these potatoes that I’m pretty sure were made by actual angels. I’m sad that I can’t tell if these are actually good or if my hangryness has convinced me they are.”

“Guess you’ll just have to try them again to make sure.”

Lindsay’s always been a good partner-in-crime and chief encourager of my bad decisions; it’s one of the things I love the most about her.

“I like the way you think.”

Her boyfriend Evan walks into the frame and settles in on the couch, then pulls her against his chest as he says hello.

He playfully kisses her neck as he squeezes her, and this white-hot pang of jealousy shoots through me, ruining my potato high. Evan and Lindsay are what most people would consider to be the perfect couple. They love each other to death; they radiate it when they’re together. I’m happy for her, but a little sad for me. I’ll be going to bed tonight with nothing to comfort me but my mille-feuille.

It’s one of the things I can look forward to about moving back to Port City. Having a home for the foreseeable future opens up a world of possibilities where my love life is concerned.

Maybe I’ll find my own Evan sooner rather than later.

“I went over and signed for your bed delivery this afternoon,” Lindsay says, then takes a sip of her wine.

“Thanks for doing that for me.”

“You didn’t tell me you were getting a king.”

I shrug. “I like to starfish.”

“You should find a nice French guy to have a fling with, see if you can fill up the other side of that monstrous bed.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Flings don’t usually come home with you. And the only love affair I’m gonna have while I’m here is with an eclair or two.”

She laughs. “Fine, if you insist on not having fun.”

“I insist on getting out of Europe with no strings attached so I can start fresh in Port City.”

She and Evan give each other this disgustingly cute look. “Yeah, well…I thought I was gonna be doing the same thing and you can see how that turned out.”

“Yeah, but you guys are the exception, not the rule.”

Lindsay met Evan two weeks before she