CHAPTER NINETEEN
In a few hours I’d be on the plane to Paris but instead of sleeping, I was laying awake on my bed, staring into the ceiling, occasionally turning and tossing on it. I’d lost count of how many times I’d kicked the covers off me only to pull them back on top of me. I hated feeling like this and all because I was afraid of the awkwardness that would hit us if George and I met at the fashion week tomorrow. I mean, it was Paris, the city of Romance and was definitely one of my go to list of cities. Not once did I imagine I would be going there in a tensed situation. Should I perhaps call him and see if we could talk it pout before things got on another extreme level of awkwardness?
I sat up, glancing at my wrist watch lying on the nightstand beside the bed. It was ten-thirty
