I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 35
At seven-fifty the next morning, Julien pulled up outside my hotel.
On the passenger seat were a canvas tool bag and a cup of hot chocolate.
“Where’s breakfast?” I asked.
“Under the tools.”
I found a ham-and-butter sandwich, neatly cut—but with the crusts still on.
“You hate it when people cut the crusts off for you,” he said.
I paused.
That had been one careless complaint over breakfast in Paris, years ago.
Julien started the car without waiting for me to thank him.