My Spy 5: A Southern Girl in Paris

Should've Said No

We never made it back downstairs. I never left his room and made it back to mine. We made our evening last longer than eight seconds and I didn't want to leave his arms as we laid next to each other until dawn.

Once the bright sun spills in through the open French doors I am stirred awake. I blink my tired eyes open and can see the tower already sticking out into a cloudless blue sky. I push the white sheets away from me and by the stillness of the room, I know Ryan is already gone. I push myself to sit up and find a note written on the hotel stationary laying on his pillow. I gingerly pick it up and read:

Sawyer- I didn't want to wake you because if I had to say goodbye to you one more time, I think I would have folded you up and brought you to New York with me- and we both know that's not what we want.

I love you. I hope last night doesn't complicate things for you but it was one of the best nights of my life. I can't regret it for the world. So now I am letting you get on that plane, with the wrong man because I know it's the right thing to do. I'm going to watch you fade off into the distance, hoping you'll be happy that I let you go.

I'll leave you with words that are not my own but sum up my feelings.

We'll always have Paris.

I stare at his familiar slanted messy handwriting and force myself not to cry. I pull the letter up against my chest and find myself still wearing his white cotton undershirt. Ryan is officially gone. We are officially done for real this time and I now have to face the consequences of our farewell.

I push myself off his bed and find my dress laying next to the open window. I glance at the clock and see it's already lunchtime but I am not hungry at all. I quickly pull my wrinkled dress on and find my purse tossed onto the lounge chair. I don't dare look at my phone as I cross into the hallway and I pray to all that is mighty that I do not see my momma.

I keep Ryan's shirt and letter tucked under my arm and I know I cannot take them with me to London. I have to leave everything of Ryan's behind. I thank my lucky stars as I make it to my room unnoticed and after I push the door shut, I stand against it.

I would have never thought I would have hooked up with Ryan out here. I really didn't think I was the person to cheat and now that I have, I don't know how to deal with it. I was selfish and let myself get wrapped up in Ryan. He is my weakness and Bash knows it. I don't blame him for chucking me to the curb which he is bound to do after I tell him.

Do I have to tell him? Can I keep this a secret and simply move on. Move forward? I only allow myself to ponder my secret for a moment before I scold myself for even thinking that was an option.

Suddenly I have no wish to be in Paris any longer. I am going to see my momma and she's going to know what happened last night. Ryan and I suddenly disappear and I don't wind up back in my room. She's going to look at me with her icy blue disappointed stare and tell me that I'm rotten. I can't face her. I'd rather just get on a plane and go beg for forgiveness from Bash instead of being yelled at and overanalyzing everything for the next twenty-four hours.

I dash across my room and start throwing things back into my trunk. I don't bother folding as my momma showed me, I just go for speed. After I shower, I quickly throw all of my cosmetics and toiletries together into their designated compartments and check the bathroom one last time for anything left behind. I manage to get a navy tee on with some comfortable black skinny jeans but I don't even bother trying to spend any time on my appearance.

I then double-check my room but before I ring down for a bellhop, I look out my window and take in the strip of cafes one last time. I try and remember the smell and the feeling of Paris and all that comes to mind is, "We'll always have Paris." I think to the note that's now laying in the trash bin next to my bed and I can't seem to leave it there. I suddenly want it with me, stuffed into the depths of my suitcase as my one shameful souvenir.