The streets of Paris buzzed with life, music spilling out of every corner of the Montmartre as tourists and locals alike embraced the evening. Nicole Bonnet sat in the corner of a crowded café, nursing a lukewarm cup of chicory coffee. Her gaze was fixed on her laptop screen, where the latest updates on the Puppeteer case glared back at her. But her focus wasn't on the case—it was on Jack Dupree, her ex-boyfriend and the guy who was saved by Nicole in the catacombs in every sense of the word.

Jack's voice lingered in her memory, sharp and teasing, always carrying that American charm he wielded like a weapon. Their breakup was months old, but his presence clung to her like the humidity of the city. She took a deep breath, trying to push him out of her mind, but the lyrics of Taylor Swift's "I Bet You Think About Me" played like a soundtrack to her thoughts:
"Does it make you feel sad that the love that you're lookin' for is the love that you had?"

The breakup had been messy. Nicole and Jack were fire and gasoline—great at solving crimes but terrible at solving their own problems. They'd been partners on the Puppeteer case, their days filled with danger and their nights tangled with passion and arguments. The stress of the case had only made things worse, their tempers clashing as they tried to balance their professional and personal lives.

One argument had shattered everything. They had been in the middle of a stakeout, the tension thick as they waited for a lead to show. Jack, ever the jokester, had tried to lighten the mood with a quip about Nicole's penchant for control.

"I'm just saying," he'd drawled, "you could loosen up a little. Not everything's a damn FBI manual."

Nicole had snapped, her frustration spilling over. "And maybe you could take something seriously for once in your life, Jack. This isn't a joke."

Their fight had spiraled, ending with Nicole storming out of the car and slamming the door behind her. The next morning, Jack had packed his things and left the case—and her—without a word.

Now, months later, Nicole was still picking up the pieces. The Puppeteer case was still active, and her new partner was competent but lacked Jack's intuition and nerve. It didn't help that Jack had resurfaced in Paris, working as a private investigator. She hadn't seen him yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

As if on cue, the café door swung open, and there he was—Jack Dupree, dressed in his signature leather jacket and jeans, looking infuriatingly unbothered. Nicole froze, her heart racing as their eyes met.

"Well, well," Jack drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. "If it isn't Agent Bonnet."

Nicole forced a neutral expression. "Jack. What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, stepping closer. "This is my town, remember? You're the one who came to my turf."

"I'm working," she said curtly, turning back to her laptop.

"Sure you are," Jack said, pulling out the chair across from her and sitting down uninvited. "And here I thought you missed me."

Nicole glared at him. "You think I came all the way to Paris because of you? Don't flatter yourself."

Jack leaned back, his grin widening. "You know, Bonnet, you're cute when you're lying."

Their conversation was interrupted by a phone call from her supervisor, who informed her that new evidence had surfaced in the Puppeteer case. Nicole grabbed her things, ready to leave, but Jack followed her outside.

"Come on, let me help," he said, falling into step beside her.

Nicole stopped, spinning to face him. "Why would I want your help? You walked out, Jack. On the case. On me."

Jack's smirk faltered, his expression growing serious. "I didn't walk out on you, Nicole. I walked out before we destroyed each other."

"You think leaving fixed anything?" she shot back. "It just made everything worse."

They stood there in the middle of the street, the noise of the city fading as they stared each other down. Finally, Jack sighed.

"Let me make it up to you," he said softly. "Just this once. Let me help you close this case."

Nicole hesitated, her instincts and emotions warring. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. But this is about the case. Nothing else."

The next few days were a whirlwind. Jack slipped back into his role as her partner with an ease that both comforted and infuriated her. He had a way of getting under her skin, teasing her in the middle of interviews and cracking jokes during tense stakeouts. But he also had a knack for finding connections others missed, and Nicole couldn't deny that he made her job easier.

One evening, as they reviewed case files in her hotel room, Jack leaned back in his chair, watching her with an unreadable expression.

"What?" she asked, not looking up from her notes.

"Nothing," he said, but his voice was softer than usual. "Just… you're still the best damn agent I've ever worked with."

Nicole's heart clenched, but she forced herself to stay composed. "You're not too bad yourself. When you're actually working."

Jack chuckled, the tension between them lightening. "I'll take that as a compliment."

As the case drew closer to a resolution, their time together grew more charged. One night, after a successful operation that uncovered critical evidence, they found themselves on the balcony of her hotel, the city lights stretching out before them.

"This place has a way of getting under your skin, doesn't it?" Jack said, leaning on the railing.

Nicole nodded, her voice quiet. "It's beautiful. But it's also… complicated."

"Like us," Jack said, turning to look at her.

Nicole's breath hitched, but she didn't respond. Instead, she looked out at the city, the weight of their history pressing down on her.

"Why did you really leave, Jack?" she asked finally.

He hesitated, then said, "Because I loved you. And I didn't know how to make that work with everything else."

Nicole looked at him, her eyes glistening. "You didn't even try."

Jack stepped closer, his voice soft. "I'm trying now."

By the time they closed the case, the Puppeteer behind bars, Nicole and Jack had reached an unspoken truce. But as they stood on the platform of the train station, ready to part ways once more, the weight of their unresolved feelings hung between them.

"You're heading back to New York," Jack said, his tone light but his eyes serious. "Guess this is goodbye."

Nicole nodded, her throat tightening. "Yeah. Guess so."

Jack smiled faintly. "Take care of yourself, Bonnet."

"You too, Dupree," she said, her voice breaking slightly.

As the train pulled away, Nicole watched him fade into the distance, the lyrics of "I Bet You Think About Me" running through her mind:
"I bet you think about me when you say, 'Oh my God, she's insane, she wrote a song about me.'"

Because no matter how far she went, she knew Jack Dupree would always linger in her thoughts—just as she would in his.