The Crush List

Chapter Eleven – Love in Europe

The morning sunlight spilled lazily into the kitchen as Emery and Cal Donovan shared a quiet breakfast together. Emery sat across from him in one of his oversized hoodies, her hair still damp from the pool, a satisfied glow on her face that Cal couldn’t help but admire. She stirred her coffee slowly, watching him over the rim of her mug.

There was something grounding about mornings like this—just the two of them, no glamor, no distractions, just realness in every glance and unspoken word.

Cal reached across the table and brushed his knuckles against hers. "So," he said with a small smile, "now that we’ve officially skinny-dipped at a party under the stars, we’ve knocked six out of ten off your list."

Emery let out a quiet laugh. "I can’t believe we actually made that list."

"It was a damn good list," Cal said with mock seriousness, then leaned back in his chair. "Let’s take inventory again. We’ve got: friend for life, one-night stand with a rockstar, kiss someone you just met, kiss someone you shouldn’t, get drunk and dance like no one’s watching, and now skinny dipping."

Emery nodded. "That leaves... spontaneous trip, falling in love even if it ends badly, telling someone how you really feel, and letting someone see all of you."

Cal’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than usual. "You think we’re getting close to a few of those already?"

Her breath hitched slightly. "Maybe. But I think I’m finally ready for them. The scary ones."

"Then we do them together," Cal said softly. "At your pace. No pressure. Just... you and me."

She smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of what came next.

Still wrapped in a robe, Emery lounged in the sunlight that poured through the kitchen’s glass doors. Her hair was damp from the shower, a fresh cup of coffee warm in her hands, when Cal dropped a brochure onto the table in front of her.

She glanced up at him, brows lifting. “What’s this?”

“Just a little something for number eight on our list,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of their quiet morning. He refilled his coffee and leaned back against the counter, casual in sweats and a white T-shirt, like he wasn’t capable of complete chaos.

Emery unfolded the glossy paper slowly. Her heart skipped at the words: South of France, Boutique Seaside Hotel. She blinked.

There were cliffs, glittering beaches, and pale stucco villas nestled in cobblestone streets. “Wait… Europe?”

“France to start,” Cal said, eyes warm as they studied her reaction. “Maybe Italy, too. We leave in three days.”

Her mouth parted, stunned. “You’re taking me to Europe?”

“I told you,” he said, shrugging like this wasn’t a life-altering offer. “You need to live a little. This one’s for ‘go on a spontaneous trip without planning.’”

Emery stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. The list. Of course. But this—this wasn’t just a spontaneous trip. This was him taking her halfway across the world.

“I already cleared the dates with my schedule. And I told my pilot to file the flight plan,” he added without missing a beat.

She blinked. “Your pilot?”

Cal gave her that devilish grin that made her forget how to breathe. “Don’t worry, he’s very experienced. Likes gin and old movies. You’ll get along.”

She shook her head slowly, a small laugh leaving her lips. She should’ve seen it coming. With Cal, the line between outrageous and irresistible didn’t exist.

“All right,” she said quietly. “Let’s do it.”

Cal’s grin turned softer at the edges, as if her answer meant more than he let on. He reached across the table and ran his thumb over her knuckles.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

And just like that, she felt her world get a little bigger—with him at the center of it.

The jet was bigger than she expected. Leather seats. Soft lighting. Even a bedroom in the back. Emery had only just begun wrapping her head around flying private when Cal handed her a glass of sparkling water and sat beside her with a kind smile, like they were just two ordinary people heading off on vacation.

Except they weren’t.

Not when the moment they landed in Nice, the flash of cameras greeted them the second they stepped off the jet.

She froze at the bottom of the stairs. Not many, maybe three or four photographers, but enough to set her pulse into overdrive. She hadn’t even realized anyone had tracked them here.

“Smile,” Cal murmured near her ear, his hand slipping into hers. “They’ll get bored quickly.”

Emery glanced at him, calm and collected in black sunglasses and an unbothered half-smile. A man who’d lived half his life in front of cameras. She followed his lead, lifting her chin and managing something like a soft, practiced expression—not too startled, not too inviting.

Cal didn’t let go of her hand once. Occasionally, he placed a hand at the small of her back as they moved toward the waiting black car. It was grounding, that subtle touch. Protective without being obvious. Intimate without being overbearing.

Inside the car, she exhaled slowly and watched the photographers shrink in the rearview mirror.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she admitted.

Cal glanced over at her, his mouth twitching. “I told you—you’re news now.”

She huffed out a laugh, turning her gaze back to the window. “I can only imagine the headlines.”

Cal Donovon’s Mystery Girl Identified.

From Campus to Côte d’Azur—Who is She?

The possibilities made her stomach flutter. Not all from nerves.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked.

“Not even a little,” he said simply. “You’re with me. That’s all they need to know.”

And maybe that was all she needed to know too.

As they drove into the hills overlooking the coast, she leaned back in her seat, his hand still resting warm between them, and let the surreal truth of it all settle around her.

She was in the South of France. With Cal. Living a life she never dared to imagine.