Chapter 2 Unfinished Business

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Eva Carter stepped into Café Lumière, a quaint little shop tucked away on a quiet street near Montmartre. The place was nearly empty, save for a few customers enjoying their morning pastries. The large glass windows allowed golden sunlight to stream in, illuminating the rustic wooden tables and the delicate porcelain cups resting on them.

Eva exhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of her camera bag. It was another crisp morning in Paris, and though she had spent years traveling the world as a photographer, there was something about this city that always pulled her back. Maybe it was the art, the history, or the way the air felt thick with stories waiting to be captured. Or maybe, it was the ghosts of her past that still lurked around every corner.

She ordered a café crème and took a seat by the window, watching as pedestrians strolled by. Tourists with cameras slung around their necks, artists setting up easels along the sidewalks, and lovers walking hand in hand-all of them creating the living painting that was Paris.

Her fingers tapped idly on the rim of her cup. The invitation from the Laurent Gallery sat in her inbox, unopened since last night. Antoine Laurent, one of Paris's most esteemed art curators, had reached out, asking her to consider featuring her work in an upcoming exhibition. It was an incredible opportunity-one that any photographer would kill for. Yet, she hesitated.

She hadn't planned on staying in Paris long.

Eva took a deep sip of her coffee and turned her gaze back to the street-only to freeze.

There he was.

Nathaniel Leclair.

Even in a crowd, he stood out. Dressed in a tailored navy suit, he carried himself with the effortless confidence of a man who owned half the city. His sharp jawline, piercing green eyes, and dark hair slightly tousled by the breeze made him look just as devastatingly handsome as she remembered.

Eva's grip on her cup tightened. Of all the people she had expected to run into in Paris, he was the last.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as memories came rushing back-memories of laughter, of whispered promises, of nights spent beneath the Parisian sky. But those memories were tainted. Tainted by betrayal, by heartbreak.

By him.

She should have looked away, should have focused on anything else. But just as she was about to turn, Nate's gaze lifted-and met hers.

For a brief second, neither of them moved.

His eyes darkened, surprise flashing across his face before it was replaced by something unreadable.

Eva swallowed hard. The café suddenly felt too small, too stifling. She had no intention of rekindling anything with Nate, no desire to reopen old wounds.

But then, to her horror, he started walking toward her.

The space between them closed far too quickly.

Nate Leclair was a man who always knew what he wanted. And right now, it seemed, he wanted answers.

"Eva Carter." His voice was smooth, deep, carrying that same edge of authority she remembered.

Eva tilted her head slightly, offering a tight smile. "Nathaniel."

His lips twitched, almost as if he was amused that she had used his full name. "I didn't expect to see you in Paris."

She forced herself to remain composed. "I could say the same about you."

His gaze flickered over her, taking in every detail-her simple yet elegant outfit, the camera bag slung over her shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but she could feel the tension between them, crackling like electricity in the air.

"I live here," he said finally. "And you?"

"I'm just passing through."

"Are you?" His voice held a note of skepticism.

Eva met his gaze head-on. "Yes."

A moment of silence stretched between them. She could see the unspoken questions in his eyes-the ones he wasn't voicing. Why did you leave? Why didn't you come back? Why now?

But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking.

Nate exhaled, shifting his weight slightly. "Can I sit?"

Eva hesitated, every fiber of her being screaming at her to say no. But instead, she nodded stiffly.

He slid into the chair across from her, his movements smooth, deliberate. A waiter approached, and he ordered an espresso without taking his eyes off her.

The silence stretched again, heavy with unspoken words.

"You look well," Nate finally said, his voice softer now.

"So do you," Eva replied, though it was a lie. He looked even better than she remembered, and that infuriated her.

A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "Still taking photographs?"

She nodded. "It's what I do."

His gaze flickered toward her camera bag. "Still hiding behind the lens?"

Eva stiffened. "Still burying yourself in business deals?"

Nate chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Some things never change."

"No, they don't."

His espresso arrived, and he took a slow sip, studying her.

"Are you going to the Laurent Gallery event?" he asked.

Eva froze. "How do you know about that?"

Nate's smirk deepened. "Antoine is an old friend. He mentioned a certain photographer who caught his eye."

Eva's stomach twisted. Of course. She should have known their circles would eventually overlap.

"I haven't decided yet," she admitted.

"You should." His voice was firm, certain. "Your work deserves to be seen."

She looked away, gripping her cup tightly. "I don't know if I'm ready."

Nate leaned forward slightly. "Why not?"

Because Paris isn't just a city to me, she wanted to say. Because it's a graveyard of everything I lost.

But she wouldn't give him that power.

Instead, she forced a smile. "It's complicated."

Nate studied her for a long moment. "You were never one to run from challenges."

Eva let out a dry laugh. "You knew a different version of me."

His expression darkened. "I knew the real you."

A sharp pang shot through her chest.

She needed to leave. Now.

Eva pushed back her chair, grabbing her camera bag. "It was nice seeing you, Nathaniel."

His jaw clenched slightly. "We're not finished talking."

"We are."

She turned to go, but his voice stopped her.

"I never got the chance to explain."

Eva's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. She should keep walking, should disappear into the crowd.

But against her better judgment, she turned. "And I never got the chance to ask why."

Nate's eyes burned with something intense, something raw.

"Then ask."

Eva held his gaze for a long moment, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore."

And with that, she walked out of the café, leaving behind the one person who had once meant everything to her.

But as she stepped into the busy Parisian streets, she knew-this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.