I froze, one foot on the bottom step. I turned slowly, my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach. Jake was standing by the mahogany side table, peeling off his leather gloves with a clinical slowness. Mom looked just as surprised as I was, her brows knitting together in confusion.
Not to Spain this time. He was playing the travel card again. Only days ago, he had booked my flight to Spain, and now, he’s choosing France? I clenched my fist until my nails bit into my palm.
"France?" I whispered, the word tasting like exile. "What are you talking about?"
"The Sorbonne has a mid-semester opening in their international relations program," Jake said. His voice was flat, devoid of the heat that had scorched me in the dressing room an hour ago. He didn’t even look at me; he was focused on th
