He Said Wait Again And I Waited For The Plane To Paris Chapter 01

He Said Wait Again And I Waited For The Plane To Paris Chapter 01

Adrian Whitmore’s favorite thing to say was, “Just give it a little more time.”

He said we would make it official once his startup stabilized, so I waited two years.

He said we would have the wedding once his mother came around, so I waited another three.

In the fifth year, at Adrian’s thirtieth birthday dinner, Mrs. Whitmore took off the Whitmore family’s heirloom emerald-and-diamond bracelet in front of everyone.

In the Whitmore family, receiving that bracelet in public was as good as being announced as the future Mrs. Whitmore.

I thought, Surely I won’t have to keep waiting this time.

“Here. Give me your hand.”

But Mrs. Whitmore reached right past me and fastened the bracelet firmly around Vivian Monroe’s wrist.

The whole table fell silent.

Mrs. Whitmore patted the back of Vivian’s hand. “Vivian grew up with Adrian. She’s family. There’s no need to treat her like an outsider.”

My hand was still resting on the table, my fingertips slowly going cold.

Someone muttered under their breath, “Then what about Ms. Lane…”

Adrian leaned closer and lowered his voice. “My mom is just sentimental. Don’t take it personally.”

“I’ll bring you back a custom diamond necklace when I go on my business trip next month. Be good. Just give it a little more time.”

Vivian lifted her wrist and held it right in front of me, her smile openly provocative. “Evie, isn’t it beautiful? Mrs. Whitmore said it’s a family heirloom, set with antique emeralds and diamonds.”

I said it was beautiful.

Just then, my phone buzzed inside my bag.

[Have you decided? When are you coming to Paris?]

***

“Why have you been so quiet?”

On the drive home, Adrian kept one hand on the steering wheel and glanced over at me.

Streetlights flickered across his sharp profile, cutting his face in and out of shadow.

I pulled my gaze away from the window and looked down at my bare wrist.

“There’s nothing to say,” I said softly.

Adrian sighed and stepped on the brake at a red light.

He took one hand off the wheel, reached across the center console, and tried to pinch the back of my neck the way he always did.

I tilted my head slightly and avoided him.

His hand froze in midair for a moment before he pulled it back as if nothing had happened and set it on the steering wheel again.

“You’re still upset about the bracelet?”

His tone carried that helpless patience people used when coaxing a child.

“You know what my mom is like. She’s old-fashioned.”

“Vivian lost her parents when she was little and grew up in our house. My mom has always felt like she owed her something.”

“It was just a bracelet. Mom gave it to her, so what? Did you really have to sulk through the whole dinner?”

Looking upset?

I had not said a word. I had simply finished that meal in silence.

But in his eyes, if I didn’t smile along while Vivian showed off, then I was being immature.

“Adrian,” I said calmly.

“Yeah?”

“You told me five years ago that bracelet would be mine.”

The car went quiet for one second.

A horn blared behind us. The light had turned green.

Adrian stepped on the gas, and the car glided smoothly forward.

“Back then, I had just started the company and couldn’t afford anything nice for you. I only said that to cheer you up. You still remember it?”

He let out a small laugh, his tone careless.

“Do you really think the Whitmore family cares that much about one heirloom bracelet now?”

“When I go to Europe next month, I’ll bring you back a custom diamond necklace. It’ll look much better than that old bracelet.”

“Be good. Don’t make such a big deal out of this.”

He was always like this, using the gentlest voice to brush away every expectation I had ever placed on our future.

Five years ago, Adrian bought me a cheap silver bracelet from a street-fair booth.

His eyes had been red when he put it on my wrist.

“Evie, once I make money, I’ll make sure my mom puts the Whitmore family’s heirloom emerald-and-diamond bracelet on your wrist herself.”

“I’m going to make you Mrs. Whitmore in front of everyone.”

I still wore that silver bracelet on my left wrist, though it had long since oxidized and turned dark.

The car pulled into the underground garage of our apartment complex.

Adrian unbuckled his seat belt and turned to look at me.

“It’s the weekend tomorrow. Where do you want to go? I’ll spend the whole day with you.”

In the past, I would have happily looked up places to go and planned out the entire day.

Now, I only felt tired.

“No need.” I pushed open the car door.“I need to pack up the apartment tomorrow.”

Adrian got out after me, locked the car, and caught up in a few quick steps.

He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“So you really are mad?”

His breath brushed against my ear, carrying the faint scent of red wine.

“Vivian just got the bracelet today. She’s so excited she can’t sleep, and she wants me to go with her tomorrow to pick out a designer evening gown to match it.”

“You know her taste is terrible. She’s depended on me since we were kids.”

“I’ll go with her in the morning and come back to spend the afternoon with you, okay?”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

Adrian smiled in satisfaction and kissed the side of my face.

“I knew my Evie was the most understanding.”

When we got home, Adrian went straight to the bathroom to shower.

I walked to the entryway and hung my bag on the coat rack.

When I unzipped it, a document lay quietly inside.

It was the acceptance letter for an advanced study program at Beaux-Arts de Paris.

At the very bottom was my signature from that afternoon.

I took it out and slipped it into the inner compartment of my half-packed suitcase.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom.

I walked out onto the balcony and sent a message to Claire Bennett, an upperclassman from college who was now in Paris.

[Claire, my flight is at dawn the day after tomorrow.]

She replied almost instantly.

[Finally came to your senses? That’s my girl. Enough with this eight-year waiting game. Come to Paris. I’ll show you every handsome French man worth looking at.]

I looked at the screen and smiled faintly.