by Sophie Love
*
It was dark outside by the time Keira and Cristiano emerged from their hotel room, eager to see what Paris had to offer.
They headed straight for the river Seine. With all the bright street lights, the black water looked like it was flecked with gold. The Eiffel Tower, a short distance away on the opposite bank, was like a glowing beacon. It was a stunning sight to behold.
“We ought to find a restaurant,” Keira said, realizing for the first time just how hungry she was.
“We should go to one with an authentic French menu,” Cristiano added.
There were none along the Seine, the streets reserved instead for trees and ambling people, and so they headed up one of the side streets onto the busy Rue de Rivoli.
They stepped inside a restaurant called Maison Rouge, which was decorated in a quaint, traditional Parisian cafe style. Their server showed them to a small, round table by the large window. Keira was very happy that they’d be able to people watch during their meal.
There was a candle on the table and a single rose in a glass vase. It was all very intimate and romantic.
Keira studied the menu, reading through the complicated French words.
“Is there anything on there that inspires you?” Cristiano asked.
“Actually, it’s all kind of terrifying,” Keira replied. “Soupe a l’oignon.”
“French onion soup,” Cristiano translated, chuckling. “What is so terrifying about that?”
“Bad breath,” Keira whispered.
Cristiano laughed heartily. “Okay, well what about Coquilles Saint-Jacques? They’re scallops. You love seafood.”
“That does sound good,” Keira replied, her mouth watering. She looked over her menu at Cristiano. “Is it bad that I’m tempted by the baked camembert?”
“Not at all!”
“But a whole cheese for dinner. It’s a bit excessive. I’ll get fat.”
Cristiano couldn’t stop laughing, shaking his head with amusement. “My Keira.”
The server came over and Keira selected the scallops after all. Cristiano ordered the Blanquette de Veau, veal ragout, and a red Bordeaux wine to complement it. He recommend Keira have a Chablis with her meal and she agreed.
When the server went to leave, Cristiano added, “And a camembert to share.”
Keira widened her eyes at Cristiano. “Dinner and a camembert. I will definitely get fat!”
Suppressing an amused smirk, the server collected their menus and left.
“You seem very at home here,” Keira commented, glancing across the table at Cristiano’s candlelit face.
He nodded. “There are similarities in many European countries. Food, language, pace of life. I fit in more here than I did in New York. But you don’t really stick out either. You’re not like the usual tourist.”
Keira shrugged. “I suppose that’s because I’m not really a tourist. I’m here to work. And I’m getting used to Europe. Or at least the European way of doing things.”
“That is very good to hear,” he replied. “Perhaps you’ll want to settle in Europe one day.”
Keira felt herself hesitate then. Her carefree mood didn’t lend itself to thinking of such things as settling down. They were finally back to living in the moment. Her mind was finally calming down, any anxiety the normalness of being back in New York had caused was finally quelled by the adventure of being in a new country. The last thing she wanted to do was invite those concerns back into her mind.
“I’ve said something wrong?” Cristiano asked, clearly picking up on her silence.
“Not at all,” she said, smiling. “I just don’t want to think about putting down roots anywhere yet. Not while my life is in such flux.”
“Ah,” Cristiano replied, smiling knowingly. “The word settle scared you.”
She blushed as she realized how transparant her thoughts had been. “Perhaps. The last time I was settled it was with my ex, Zach, and that ended rather badly.”
Cristiano shook his head. “Now we’ve touched on a topic I would prefer not to speak of.”
He fiddled with the utensils in front of him, straightening them out as if suddenly ill at ease.
“You mean Zach? My jerk of an ex?”
His jaw clenched. “Keira, please. I know you’ve had men in the past. I’d prefer not to be reminded of it.”
Keira couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows. Cristiano was usually so laid back. This was the first hint she’d ever seen of his Italian jealous streak.
She pressed her lips together and let the conversation fade to silence.
The food arrived then, providing them with a needed distraction. It smelled as delicious as it looked, and Keira’s eyes widened with hunger.
“Cheers,” Cristiano said, holding his glass up to clink hers.
“Cheers,” she said.
As she tapped the rim of her wine glass against his, she gazed into his eyes. The moment of jealousy seemed to have passed. It was almost as if it had never been there. Less that he’d moved on though, Keira thought, and more that he’d buried his feelings.
Keira took a sip of her wine, then moved on to her scallops. Her first mouthful was amazing. She’d never had anything so tasty!
“I had no idea scallops could be this good,” she murmured.
Cristiano smiled. He seemed to derive pleasure from merel watching her derive pleasure, as though he enjoyed knowing she was content. The thought made her feel warm inside.
“Do you like your food?” she asked him, feeling suddenly hot under the collar.
“I do,” he replied. “But I prefer the company.”
She swallowed hard, feeling the heat all the way up to her ears.
They finished their mains and the server asked if they wanted desserts.
“No thank you,” Keira said, patting her camembert stuffed stomach.
But at the exact same time, Cristiano said, “Yes please,” with his devilish grin.
The server bought the menu back so they could peruse it again.
“I’m guessing creme means cream,” Keira said.
Cristiano nodded. “It does.”
“Right. Well it looks like most of these dishes have cream in them.”
“And why is that a problem?” he asked.
She patted her stomach again. “It’s too rich. I can’t cope with any more dairy!”
“How about the eclairs?” he suggested.
She gave him a look. “Chocolate is dairy!”
He chuckled. “Okay, the apple pie then.”
She flashed him another look. “You really think the French pie can stand up to the American pie?”
“I’ve got it,” Cristiano said finally. “Caneles. They’re like little cakes that taste of vanilla and rum.”
“How little?” she asked.
“Tiny,” he said, laughing.
Keira ordered those, whilst Cristiano went for a very traditional gateaux. When both dishes arrived on small white china plates, they were exquisitely presented, and they tasted just as wonderful as they looked.
Keira noticed Cristiano out of the corner of her eye, watching her as she ate.
“Why are you doing tht?” she asked, feeling her blush returning.
“You look very beautiful when you eat,” he told her.
Keira almost snorted her laughter. “I do? That’s very funny to hear. I’ve been told I’m a sloppy eater.”
It was something Zach said to her often, that she didn’t chew quietly enough.
“Well,” Cristiano said, his smile fading. “That is what happens when you waste your time with little boys instead of men.”
Keira’s mouth dropped open then, so take aback was she by Cristiano’s comment. For the second time that night she’d unwittingly roused his jealous side. She wondered what it was that had made him seem so suddenly bothered by any mention of her past relationships. Something has changed between them, a deepening of their bond that had the unpleasant side-effect of making Cristiano jeal
ous. She vowed not to mention any ex partners so carelessly again. Cristiano would need a slightly more tactful approach going forward.
“Would you like to do some more sightseeing before bed?” she asked, changing the subject. I’d be very keen to go on a night-time river cruise? I’ve heard Paris is at its best when seen from the river at night. That way we can take in all the main monuments and still be back with plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time for what?” Cristiano asked, raising an eyebrow.
Keira’s blush was all the answer they needed.
They paid for their meal and headed out of the restaurant, back towards the Seine. It didn’t take long to find one of the small cruise ships that offered tours along the river.
They boarded the small ferry, which was packed with dozens of other couples, and gawped along with everyone else as they passed the Louvre, Notre Dam, Opéra, Madeleine, Concorde, Champs-Élysées, Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower and finally, the Moulin Rouge, with its infamous red windmill.
“Would you like to stop for some cabaret?” Cristiano asked Keira. “Get your temperature rising before we head back to our hotel room?”
She laughed, her eyes glittering with excitement. She was so caught up in the excitement, she blurted out, “Okay!”
They disembarked the ferry and headed towards the venue. It was clearly very popular as the queues were long, but they moved quickly and were soon being ushered inside.
The interior was remarkable, like an old theatre with a balcony area behind them. The walls and carpet were red. The rows of tables, of which there were many, had white cloths upon them and red lights. Fabric billowed across the ceiling, giving it a circus-tent feel. The place was filled with people, some eating dinner, others just drinking champagne.
Cristiano and Keira went to their table and ordered champagne.
The stage was covered in a sparkly curtain, and when the lights dimmed to indicate the show was about to begin, the curtain fell. The stage filled with cancan dancers in glitzy, colorful costumes. The skill of their coordinated dancing was incredible. Keira was utterly thrilled watching them. The talent was incredible to see. And the show was so much more than she’d ever anticipated; not just dancers but miniature horses, acrobatics, even a mermaid in a water tank! It was a whirlwind of sights and sounds, lights, sparkles and feathers. It was astounding, breathtaking. When the audience cheered their applause, Keira found herself on her feet hooting along with them.
“You enjoyed that,” Cristiano remarked once the show was over and the lights had gone back up.
“It was awesome!” Keira cried, feeling filled with energy suddenly.
Cristiano wrapped an arm around her waist as they headed back to the Seine to catch a ferry home. Keira couldn’t stop smiling as she leaned into him, watching Paris pass her by, listening to the slosh of water against the boat. She was certain that her love would not just survive here, but thrive!
*
Back in the hotel, Cristiano flopped straight into bed, looking exhausted. He held his arms out to Keira.
“Come to me, my princess,” he murmured.
“I think you need some sleep,” she countered. “And I’m so inspired by my evening, I’d quite like to get some writing done.”
Cristiano pouted, but Keira knew he was only joking. She went over to the bed and pulled the heavy blanket over him, then kissed him on his forehead.
“There will be plenty of opportunities for that sort of thing,” she said with a wink.
Cristiano grinned. Then he yawned.
“Maybe you’re right,” he admitted, turning to his side and letting his eyes flutter closed.
Keira watched him for a moment, until his breathing slowed. She was astounded by how quickly he fell asleep.
Whether it was from jet lag or excitement-induced adrenaline, Keira herself was not even remotely tired. Instead, she cleaned her makeup from her face and moisturized, then went and sat at the beautiful mahogany writing desk by the window. She pulled the curtains open so she could see the whole view of the Seine and of the rain splattered streets of Paris. The scene was beyond inspiring.
She fetched her laptop and began to type, her mind recalling the romantic evening with Cristiano. She felt like she was in heaven. It had been such a good idea to come here. Cristiano was far more relaxed in Europe, and without her family interfering all the time, she was too. In fact, she felt more free here than she had anywhere else. Maybe they should move to Paris? She could actually picture them settling down here.
She smiled to herself as she realized what she was doing. Not falling in love with someone new, but somewhere new. Paris.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Keira sat on the balcony bright and early next morning, watching the world go by. It wasn’t raining yet, but the sky was filled with dark clouds that were clearly going to burst soon.
She turned at the sound of Cristiano coming through the doors. He was shirtless, and holding a mug of coffee in each hand. He handed one to Keira whilst taking a seat opposite her.
“This is the life, eh?” he said, stretching his arms above his head.
“Aren’t you cold?” Keira asked. She was shivering despite the hotel-provided fluffy white robe wrapped around her.
“Only a little,” he said. “And in a good way.”
Keira shook her head jovially. “I didn’t think there was such a thing as a good way,” she joked.
Cristiano pointed at the map spread on the table in front of them. “Are you plotting our day?”
Keira nodded in affirmation. “I figured that since we’re in Paris we should see some museums. But I was wondering about going to some of the less well known ones.”
“How come?” Cristiano asked. “Don’t you want to step inside the Louvre? See the infamous Mona Lisa?”
“Of course, but not today,” Keira told him. “We saw all the main places yesterday on the ferry ride.”
Cristiano gave her one of his half-amused, half-bemused expressions. “Only from the outside.”
Keira swivelled the map to face him. “I’m just saying that I don’t want to follow the Seine the same route two days in a row.” She pointed at the red cross she’d added to the map which indicated their hotel. Then she drew an invisible line with her finger in a northeasterly direction. “There’s a museum here about Edith Piaf I’d love to go and see.”
“You like her music?”
Keira blushed then, feeling like an old romantic who’d been caught out. “I love it.”
“Well why didn’t you just say,” Cristiano laughed. “Of course we can go to your museum! I didn’t realize you liked old French singers.”
Keira felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “I guess I have an old soul.”
“It’s lovely,” Cristiano said.
Then he leaned across the table and began to sing to her in Italian. Though he was clearly being theatrical, with one hand pressed to his bare heart, Keira felt her own fluttering in response. Cristiano was actually a pretty good singer, even if he was adopting a Pavarotti style voice!
He finished the song and sat back with an accomplished grin. Keira applauded.
“That was actually wonderful,” she told him, touching her warm cheeks with the back of a cool hand.
Cristiano laughed with abandon. “A traditional Italian folk song,” he said. “Amuri, amuri.”
“Which means?” she asked, dreamily, resting on her elbows and gazing across at him.
Cristiano leaned slowly towards her, his voice dropping to a sultry tone. “It means, my love, my love,” he said.
He pressed his lips to hers and Keira felt her whole body ripple with joy. When he pulled away from her, she felt as though she’d been left in a daze.
“We will need to stop for breakfast,” Cristiano said, abruptly bringing her back to earth. He looked at the map, frowning in contemplation. “Breakfast is of course the meal the French do best, so we can stop at any one of these bistros on the map.” He pointed randomly at
a spot halfway between the hotel and their destination. “It’s called Bisous,” he said, laughing. “That means kisses.”
“Sounds delightful.” Keira murmured, still feeling foggy headed from the toxicity of Cristiano’s kiss.
Cristiano stood then, stretching his torso. “We’d better bring an umbrella,” he said. “It’s going to rain any second.”
There was a moment of silence as Keira stared at his gorgeous chest, completely lost in admiration.
“Keira,” Cristiano said, laughing. “Are you there?”
She finally let her gaze move up to his eyes, but that was only worse! Cristiano was hypnotically gorgeous from head to toe. It was almost painful.
She stood. “Umbrella,” she repeated, smiling. “I heard every word you said.”
She headed inside, giving Cristiano a cheeky wink as she passed.
*
Keira and Cristiano left the hotel just as a torrential downpour began. Though the weather was miserable, there was no way it could dampen Keira and Cristiano’s spirits. Keira thought it could be blowing a gale and pelting her with hailstones but she’d still feel like she was walking on cloud nine. All the stress she’d suddenly felt on her return to New York City seemed to have disappeared.
They headed in a north easterly direction towards the border between the eleventh and twentieth arrondissements where some of the lesser known museums were located, including the Edith Piaf one. The walk was to take around forty five minutes, with their scheduled breakfast cafe stop at the midpoint.
They reached the cafe, a kitsch bistro filled with gaudy gold-rimmed mirrors and fairy lights. All the chairs and tables inside were repurposed wooden desks, which, whilst in keeping with the shabby chic theme, wouldn’t have been Keira’s personal pick. School wasn’t exactly a time she liked to think back on.
Cristiano, on the other hand, seemed to find the decor delightful. He found them a dark red leather couch to sit, which was right by a fireplace filled with white roses and candles. Keira did admit the setting in their little corner was quiet romantic.
Their server came over and took their breakfast order — coffee and croissants — then disappeared out the kitchen to fetch it. Keira took her notebook from her bag.
