The Billionaire's Secret by Ava Miles Page B

said. “This journey is yours to make on your own.”
    He headed off, and she looked down at the map he’d drawn. Finding the church wouldn’t be difficult. She only had to go four blocks, turn right, and then walk two more. She thought about texting Evan to tell him she was finished with her apprenticeship for the day, but part of her wanted to wait. This way she could take her time and wouldn’t feel rushed to meet him. She could savor each part of her day rather than rushing through it.
    When she arrived at the gate to the modest neighborhood church of St. Francis, she immediately spied the small gray house with the blue door. She crossed the courtyard lined with red roses and knocked on the door. It opened, and before her stood an older man in black pants and a black shirt with a white collar.
    “Father Charles?” she asked in English, her brain too full of new knowledge for her to attempt speaking French yet.
    “Oui,” he said. “You must be Margie. Thank you for bringing bread to us. People will not go hungry tonight due to your generosity.”
    She had to be jet-lagged or something, but more tears popped into her eyes. She reached into the bag and took out five loaves. How could she keep one for her and Evan when people might go hungry?
    Father Charles smiled. “Andre said you would try to give me five loaves, and I was to remind you that you must keep one for yourself. You bless yourself when you eat the bread made from your hands. Even the baker must be nourished, for if you go hungry, who will make the bread?”
    He gave her back the extra loaf, and she clutched it to her chest.
    “The Madonna is right around the corner. She is going to like you. You have a kind heart, child.” The grooves around his mouth transformed as his smile stretched even wider. “Enjoy your time in Paris, Margie. And come back here whenever you want. We will always welcome you.”
    She felt the urge to do a yoga bow and decided just to give in and do it.
    His smile grew wider. “Yes, the Madonna will really like you. Bonsoir.”
    “Bonsoir,” she said as he closed the door.
    The cobblestones on the path leading around his house to the back of the church were smooth with age. Everywhere she looked, red roses opened to the ribbons of sunlight streaming through the ancient trees towering above her. She spotted Mary easily in the middle of a circle lined with more roses. The statue was stone, but she looked alive. Her eyes seemed to stare at Margie as she placed the bread at her feet beside other offerings—a flickering candle, a blue rosary, a fading red rose, and a letter.
    Stepping back, she placed her hand on her heart. They gazed at each other.
    “Thank you,” she whispered and then bowed to the lady and retraced her steps with her one remaining loaf to find Evan.

Chapter 5
    When Evan met Margie on the street in front of L’Hotel, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. He only had a moment to process how gorgeous she looked in her bright yellow dress.
    “I did it!” she cried. “I made my first baguettes in Paris!”
    The glorious smell of baked bread saturated her hair, and he took a long inhale to drink it in. Like he wanted to drink her in. “I’m so proud of you.”
    “Andre is incredible, and so is his wife, Belle,” she rushed on, pressing away so she could rearrange the bread bag hanging over her shoulder and reach for the one loaf inside. “This is my baguette.”
    The golden brown color was like afternoon sunlight on sandstone. The unmistakable slashes on the bread were a lighter shade. And the bread smelled as heavenly as she did.
    “It’s so perfect,” he said, “I don’t want to eat it.”
    She laughed. “Oh, we’re going to eat it! It might be our main course tonight. I want to eat it and eat it and eat it with you until there’s nothing left.”
    He was both touched and aroused to hear her say that. “I can’t wait to try it.”
    “Oh, Evan! I’m so happy.”
    Her arms wrapped