8
ROMI
You’ve got to be kidding me.
When my brother replied to my desperate “Help, I’m about to jump onto the nearest plane” message with “Ride arranged” and a smiley emoji, I’d assumed it meant he’d shuffled things around to pick me up himself. Either that or Brooke had offered to come. But when I walked into the arrivals hall and saw a once-familiar face, I almost turned around and flew right back to Paris.
What the hell was Aaron doing here?
He was holding up a handwritten sign, cab-driver-style, and I squinted to read it.
I SWEAR THIS WASN’T MY IDEA
There were more words underneath, and when I got close enough to read them, I almost smiled. Typical Aaron.
Give me one finger if you want to ride with me, two if you want me to find you a cab.
I hated cabs, really hated them. Firs
