The Paris Connection

by Cerella Sechrist

  “Thanks, Cole.”

  “No problem.”

  She reached out, her fingers brushing against his as he pushed his plate aside. Her touch must have startled him because he looked up, eyes wide.

  “I mean it. It’s nice to feel like I have an ally.”

  His hand moved, flipping over so that their palms touched. The feel of his skin against hers caused a reassuring warmth to spread toward her wrist. “I like the feeling, too.”

  They held each other’s eyes a bit longer, and she felt herself leaning forward, as though the earth were tilting on its axis, ever so slightly, and pushing her in Cole’s direction. It wasn’t until their waiter appeared, offering refills on their drinks, that they released hands. She pulled hers back into her lap and realized she couldn’t eat another bite. Her stomach was too crowded with emotions to accommodate food.

  “How about some dessert?” Cole suggested, his tone light.

  “I can’t,” she protested. “I’m stuffed.”

  “Not even macarons? Giselle mentioned they’re your favorite.”

  She had? She wondered if Cole had been asking about her or if Giselle had offered up the information on her own.

  The waiter paused, waiting to see if they would order anything more. She shook her head at him to indicate it wasn’t necessary, and he moved away.

  “I do love macarons,” she admitted, “but if you’re going to eat them in Paris, it’s better to get them at Ladurée. They make the best ones.”

  “So this is serious business, eating macarons.”

  She nodded, keeping her expression severe. “You can’t just eat any macaron when in Paris. You have to have the real thing, the best possible kind.”

  “Then it’s settled. We’re going to have to go to Ladurée.”

  “Tonight?” She blinked in surprise.

  “Not tonight, but I’m thinking...” He leaned back, and she felt the intensity of his stare as he studied her. She tried not to fidget beneath the scrutiny and, instead, smoothed her charcoal-gray pencil skirt and fiddled with the sleeves of her soft pink blouse.

  “What if I made you a bet?”

  These words grabbed her attention. “A bet? What sort of bet?”

  “I bet you can’t make me fall in love with Paris.”

  She straightened in her seat, totally unprepared for this suggestion. “Are you kidding?”

  “I couldn’t be more serious. Think about it. It’s obvious you adore this city, and clearly, I’m in need of some persuasion where it’s concerned. Why don’t you take on the challenge of showing me your Paris. You can start with Ladurée, if you like. The macarons will be on me.”

  “You mean, I could show you the sights, that sort of thing?”

  “Whatever it takes to make me fall in love.”

  The prospect both thrilled her and made her wary. She had the feeling she was already growing a little too comfortable where her boss was concerned. Spending time outside of work, showing him the City of Light, wouldn’t exactly solidify any boundaries between them. And yet, the opportunity to show off her adopted home, with all its magic, was a lure she couldn’t resist. She began thinking of all the places she would take him—from her favorite boulangeries and shops to the most iconic sights.

  “When would we find the time?”

  He shrugged. “Whenever. After work. The weekends. We could take it slow. After all, I spent years learning everything that made me appreciate New York. You can’t expect me to fall for Paris overnight.”

  She considered this. “Avery would have to join us. Melanie has most evenings and weekends off, and I’m not going to stick Avery with a sitter.”

  “Of course, I’m counting on it. I’m sure she has her own unique perspective. Plus, she’s pretty adorable. Kind of like her mother.”

  The compliment made her hesitate again. Spending her free time with Cole wasn’t going to make her decision for Solene any easier. But he had proven himself a pretty good source of company, and besides, Avery had seemed to like him. What harm could it do, really? If anything, it was like a favor—she could help him acclimate completely to France. Then, if she did choose to leave Aquitaine for Léon, it wouldn’t be as though she’d left her job as Cole’s cultural liaison unfinished.

  After a bit more deliberation, she bowed her head. “All right, then. You’re on.”

  He grinned. “Then I’ll prepare to have my heart stolen.”

  * * *

  COLE SHOWED UP at Emma’s that Saturday morning at precisely eight o’clock, as they had arranged. He buzzed for admittance to the apartment building and waited for Melanie to ring him in before making his way up to their floor. He knocked on the door, and within seconds, it eased open with Avery standing on the other side.

  When he held out a small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up from a street vendor, her eyes grew wide.

  “For Mommy?”

  “No. They’re for you.”

  If possible, her eyes grew even rounder. “For me?”

  “Of course. A gentleman always brings a lady flowers.”

  She grabbed the daisies and hugged them to her, losing several petals in the process.

  “Mom, look what Cole brought me!”

  She ran farther into the apartment, leaving him standing on the threshold uncertainly until Melanie appeared and offered a shy grin.

  “You can come inside. Emma’s almost ready.”

  He followed Melanie inside and took an appreciative look around. Emma’s apartment was exactly what he would have expected from her—simple but still elegant and inviting.

  Melanie gestured toward the couch in the living area. “Do you want anything to drink?”

  He shook his head. “No, thanks.” He sensed the girl was still a bit uncomfortable around him, so he tried to put her at ease. “Emma said you have most weekends off. Are you enjoying your time as an au pair, getting to take in plenty of sights?”

  “Oh, definitely,” she gushed, finally opening up a little. “I’ve been to all the major sights—the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, all those places. My friends back home are so jealous. Emma showed me around the first month, but then I met a bunch of other au pairs here in the city. We go out together on the weekends to absorb as much culture as we can.”

  “How long will you stay here?”

  “I signed up for a full twelve months, and I arrived just over ten weeks ago. I’ll be here throughout Avery’s school year before I head back home in June.”

  “It sounds like you still have plenty of time to enjoy your experience, then.”

  She nodded, and just then, Emma entered the room dressed in a simple outfit of jeans and a white T-shirt with a bright yellow scarf looped around her neck and a gray cardigan in her arms. He felt himself perking up, pleased to see her in something other than her usual professional attire. Her hair was loose as well, the dark waves tumbling over her shoulders. She appeared more rested than he’d seen her in the past two weeks. Avery padded in behind her, still clutching the bouquet of daisies and trailing petals across the carpet. Half the flowers were already bald from all the movement.

  “Good morning,” Emma greeted him.

  Avery plucked out a flower from amidst the bunch. She held it toward Melanie. “Here, Melanie. This is for you.”

  “Aw, thanks.” Melanie bent down and dropped a kiss on the little girl’s head. “Why don’t I put these in some water, huh? I think they might need a drink.” She tactfully took the already wilting bouquet and headed for the kitchen. Avery followed, presumably to watch.

  Cole turned back to find Emma smiling at him. “That was very nice of you. She’s never had anyone give her flowers before. I think you might just beat out Melanie for her favorite person this week.”

  “I thought maybe she’d appreciate it. Don
’t all girls like to get flowers?”

  “I guess they do,” Emma admitted.

  They grew silent, having run out of preliminary things to say, and Cole cleared his throat a trifle awkwardly.

  “You look lovely, by the way.”

  “Oh, really?” She glanced down at her outfit. “Thanks. It’s nice to get out in something other than work blouses and skirts.” He watched as she surreptitiously took in his own attire. “And, um, you look good, too.”

  He didn’t think his navy polo and khaki slacks were anything impressive, but he thanked her and thought how ridiculous the two of them were behaving, like teenagers on their first date.

  “So, what’s on the agenda for the day?”

  Emma seemed to appreciate the question, as though it gave her something else to focus on rather than just the two of them standing in her living room. “I thought we’d start with the basics—the Eiffel Tower, maybe some museums, that sort of thing.”

  “Seems like the perfect place to begin.”

  “And maybe we can pick up a few lunch items at the Rue Cler market and eat picnic-style on the Champ de Mars.”

  “You’re the one calling the shots. I’m placing myself in your hands.”

  She laughed. “You may regret that.”

  He denied it, certain he would have absolutely no regrets at all.

  * * *

  EMMA COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d experienced such a perfect day. Cole was absolutely charming, and before they’d even arrived at their first stop, she knew that if he hadn’t won Avery over with the flowers, he certainly had just by the attention he paid her. It moved her to see how her daughter giggled at the things Cole said. Soon, Avery was clinging to his hand instead of Emma’s and begging for him to carry her when she grew tired or wanted extra attention.

  Though Emma tried to chastise her and remind her she had to walk on her own, Cole never seemed to mind picking her up when she demanded it. With Cole there to keep her entertained, she never grew whiny about their sightseeing like she might have done otherwise. Before long, Emma found herself caught up in the day as well, enjoying Cole’s company and the late-summer weather of sunshine and pleasant breezes.

  They hiked the stairs to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and though Emma protested, Cole willingly carried Avery most of the way, well over fifteen hundred steps. He held her up as they took in the magnificent views at the top, drinking in the skyline of the city, and he confessed that it truly was an incomparable sight. She gushed more than she should have about the monument’s history—from its creation by Gustave Eiffel to its modern upkeep of being painted with six tons of paint every seven years to prevent the cast iron from rusting. She suddenly realized how Cole was staring at her, seemingly mesmerized.

  “Sorry. I know a little too much about some of these landmarks. I’ll try not to go into boring tour guide mode.”

  “I’m not bored,” he said, and though she didn’t entirely understand the way he looked at her, she believed him.

  After the Eiffel Tower, they wandered for a bit, and she chose to bypass a few of the museums since she didn’t think Avery’s attention span would hold long enough for them to spend much time there. She couldn’t resist a visit to the Musée Rodin, however. Instead of paying the fee for the museum portion, she took them to the gardens, where she and Cole paid a euro each to enter, and Avery was admitted for free. Fortunately, the sculptures captivated Avery, her little head cocked as she studied several of the statues along the grounds. Cole seemed to be enjoying himself, especially when Avery would grab his hand and pull him in the direction of another statue. The three of them stared for some time at the famous sculpture The Thinker until Avery pronounced it “boring” and asked if they could leave.

  They moved on, and Emma prayed for Avery’s patience when she insisted they visit Le Musée des Égouts de Paris for an hour. The underground museum on the sewers of Paris always fascinated her with its history and the connections to Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. Besides, she hoped such an unusual tourist attraction would help Paris stand out in Cole’s mind, and its unique setting kept Avery interested, at least for a little while.

  After that, Emma continued their tour of the seventh arrondissement by stopping at the open-air market, Rue Cler, to gather items for lunch. After the dank air of the underground museum, it was refreshing to get back out onto the cobblestone street and breathe in the more diverse smells of the city—baking bread and pastries, fuel exhaust, damp and musty stones from old fountains, and flowers from cart vendors on every corner.

  They made their way to the Champ de Mars with Cole carrying Avery on his shoulders. Somewhere along the way, perhaps when she’d been distracted with selecting some Brie for their lunch, Cole must have bought Avery a yellow balloon to match her buttercream-and-white-striped sundress. It bobbed in the air above her head, seeming to dance along with her laughter.

  Avery basked in this attention, constantly calling for Emma to look up at her and then throwing her arms wide, the balloon firmly secured to her wrist by a length of string. Emma’s chest tightened at the sight of her daughter’s joy. Brice had never carried his daughter on his shoulders like that, had never taken the time to perform many fatherly actions at all.

  When they at last arrived at the long stretch of green that was the Champ de Mars, Emma settled on the grass and spread out the food she’d purchased. Avery was still bouncing with energy, so Emma took her balloon and tied it to one of the bags from the market, and Avery soon settled down long enough to look over the lunch offerings, choosing the Brie, a cluster of grapes and a large chunk of the fresh bread to nibble on. Cole helped Emma lay out the items, but before he got very far, Avery settled herself in his lap.

  Emma watched as he looked down at the top of her daughter’s head in surprise; and then, he brushed a palm over her hair before situating himself more comfortably and reaching for a roasted pepper.

  They each munched quietly, allowing the sounds of tourists and native Parisians to flow around them as they devoured sections of rotisserie chicken, Mediterranean olives, sugared almonds, Brie and Camembert, in addition to other delicious finger foods.

  When they had finished, they lay back on the grass and watched thin swirls of clouds make shapes in the sky. Avery kept asking Cole to tell her what shapes he saw, and his suggestions grew ever more outrageous until she giggled and told him he was silly before giving up on the game.

  Avery noticed a pair of twins working at flying a kite and jumped to her feet to move closer and watch. Emma sat up to keep an eye on her, and Cole followed suit.

  “So, how am I doing?” she asked him. “Have you fallen in love yet?”

  He clicked his tongue. “Patience, Aquitaine. I’m not some cheap date. I have to be wooed here.”

  She laughed and realized that such a reaction was something she was experiencing more and more when Cole was around. He always found something to say that amused her.

  “I guess I fell in love with the city at first sight, so I can’t understand why you wouldn’t.”

  “You’re doing just fine,” he confessed. “I am sufficiently awed by everything we’ve seen. But in love? Not quite yet. You’re going to have to keep it up.”

  “Not a problem. I could keep touring this city forever. There’s always something new to discover, even after you think you’ve seen it all. Could you say the same about New York?”

  He leaned back, stretching his arms out and resting his weight on his palms. “I don’t know. It’s different. Paris has centuries of history behind it, but New York has more of an undercurrent of energy, something almost frantic, running through it, I think. Have you ever been there?”

  “No,” she confessed.

  He eyed her with new interest. “You mean all this time you’ve been telling me how wonderful Paris is, and you haven’t even been
to New York?”

  She shrugged.

  “Oh, Aquitaine. I think you’ve been playing me all along here.”

  “I wouldn’t take it personally.” She pretended to look at her fingernails, blew a breath on them and then acted as if she was shining them against her scarf. “I’m just smart that way.”

  He laughed and reached out to tickle her in the side. She squealed and rolled away on the grass. Avery took notice of the laughter and came to join them, vaulting herself against Cole, who fell onto his back.

  They lay like that as Avery began singing in French, her voice filled with happiness. Emma was stretched out several feet away, where she had rolled when Cole tried to tickle her. She turned her head and saw him grinning up at her daughter, trying to hum along in snatches to the song.

  When he moved his head and caught her eye, she felt as though everything inside her rose up in a swell of happiness and realized that this was what Jacqueline would have called “a perfect moment.”

  * * *

  THEY STAYED IN the seventh arrondissement for the rest of the afternoon, sightseeing, shopping and then eating dinner together at a little restaurant along the Seine. When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, they visited the Eiffel Tower again so that Cole could see it lit up at night. It was an incomparable sight, a beacon of brilliance visible for miles beyond, and the view of the city from its observation decks after twilight had fallen was an entirely new perspective.

  By that point, Avery was done in with exhaustion, and Cole carried her in his arms as she sagged with sleepiness. Emma led the way toward the RER train lines that would take them back to Batignolles and her apartment. They didn’t speak much on the ride home, but the silence was much more relaxed than it had been when they’d stood in her apartment together that morning. Cole felt completely comfortable in the quiet with her, and he sensed she felt the same.