For the past year, you’ve been living in Paris. Fulfilling your dream. Forgetting the life you’d left behind.

Except, you hadn’t.

Because Conrad Fisher was sending you letters.

Conrad Fisher, who had confessed his undying love for you the night before you were supposed to marry his brother.

Conrad Fisher, who broke your heart and dumped you at your junior prom.

Conrad Fisher, the boy you weren’t sure you would ever stop loving.

You told yourself not to read the letters. You were fine. You were moving on. You had new friends, a new job, a new life. One that Conrad did not need to be a part of.

You read the letters.

They weren’t love letters, per se. More like nothing notes and thought dumps he decided you needed to read.

You wrote back.

Because deep down, you missed it. You missed summer in Cousins. You missed your parents, and Steven, and Taylor. And you missed Conrad.

You hadn’t seen him since the day of your wedding. When he had accidentally given your ex-fiancé, his little brother, Jeremiah, the letter from their dead mother that was meant for Conrad on his wedding day. The one that already assumed Conrad was marrying you.

It was safe to say the wedding had been called off.

That night, you had fled to Paris in a moment of weakness. And now? You’d been here for a year.

As it turns out, writing back to Conrad was a mistake. Because here he was, standing outside your apartment.

He had flown to Paris for you.

So now, here you were, dancing with Conrad Fisher on the banks of the Seine.

“Do you remember the last time we danced together?” you murmur, your head resting against his shoulder.