Never or Forever (Year of the Chick series) by Moondi Romi

Author:Moondi, Romi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, love, comedy, humor, chicklit, funny, paris, chicklit romance
Publisher: Romi Moondi

Chapter Fifteen

I’d been sitting at my computer staring at his e-mail for half an hour. It was incredible how a few simple words could turn my whole world upside down. But that was the effect of Erik.

The words this time were brief, and they raised all kinds of questions: “Can we talk? It’s important.”

I’d only been back from Italy for a week when his words fluttered into my inbox, words meant to reel me in and pique my curiosity.

As I stared at the words, it was clear to me now that hope was a dangerous thing. Hope was the thing that asked new questions, stirred old feelings, but never quite came through with noticeable improvement.

Hope was a drug.

Not only had I forced myself into “hope rehab” on the night of Laura’s wedding, but I’d also specifically asked him to support me in this quest to forget. All he’d been told to do was never contact me again; the absence of doing anything at all...it couldn’t have been easier! But he had to disobey me anyway.

I didn’t like it when people ignored my requests, it made me angry and impulsive and merciless. Which is exactly how I felt when I deleted his e-mail, blocked his e-mail address, blocked him from Facebook, and as a final measure, blocked him from the e-mail address that was publicly available for readers including him. No e-mail for you!

“Whoa!” I said, breathing heavily now. I paced back and forth in my one-room apartment, my eyes now filling up with tears. “Did I just do that?! Like whoa!” I opened the kitchen drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. In seconds I was furiously opening a bottle of red. Once the cork was out I chugged it straight from the bottle, an act that would horrify any self-respecting Parisian. By the time I put down the bottle my eyes were watering even more, this time from the wine. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

I sat back down in front of the computer, his name no longer at the top of my inbox. My eyes travelled up the wall to my list of Parisian goals, and in that moment of wine-chugging clarity, I realized how stupid they were. A list of goals? And then tracking the goals? What was this, a corporate project? I tore the page off the wall and tossed it in the trash, realizing then that a year in Paris wasn’t about achieving this or that, because I’d already achieved so much just by getting here! I also now realized the goal of “get-over-what’s-his-face” wasn’t something scientific. I had no idea when I’d fully get over him, so maybe it was time to stop judging myself about the timeline.

On a fresh sheet of paper I wrote down a different heading: “Joyful Moments in Paris.” In just a couple of minutes the page was almost full, with everything from “strolling down a quiet street biting into a fresh baguette,” to “reading a book in the Jardin du Luxembourg and working on my tan.

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