“Have a good day, ladies. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Ella Mae.” At the sound of her middle name rolling from his British tongue, she nearly melted. But then a twinge of guilt that had no right to be there cut through her. Because pretty much only her brothers or Jesse called her Ella Mae, and not all of the time, but when Jesse did it . . . I’m not Jesse’s. He’s not mine. And five or six months in Paris felt like not just the chance of a lifetime, but her opportunity to finally move on from Jesse.
