One Week in Paris

by Roya Carmen

  She smiles and blushes. “We’re just friends.”

  “Then why are you blushing?”

  She shakes her head. “We’ve been chatting a lot… on Facebook, and sometimes we video chat.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We send each other pictures sometimes,” she adds, blushing. It’s obvious that the woman has a huge crush — I find it completely adorable.

  “Show me one,” I ask, eager to see what kind of photos people of a certain age send each other. I doubt that they’re anything like the ones Oscar and I share — super naughty.

  The smile on her face is as wide as can be as she digs her phone out of her purse. She fiddles for a moment, then shows me a photo of Antoine standing in front of the Eiffel tower, a stylish scarf wrapped around his neck.

  “Nice,” I say. “He looks very handsome.”

  She blushes. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  My jaw falls to the floor. “What do you mean? I haven’t seen anything yet?”

  She turns crimson. “He’s sent me sexier ones,” she confesses.

  “Oh my…” I tease. “I don’t think I want to see those.”

  She laughs and it thrills me to see her so happy — she seems to have all forgotten about Mark. “Actually, the photos he sends are very tasteful.” She looks down at her phone again. “Here, I’ll show you my favorite.”

  “Oh no, Mom. I don’t need to see—”

  She hands me her phone. “Here.”

  Oh my… that is one sexy silver fox. He’s leaning back against a tall upholstered headboard. He’s wearing black dress pants and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned, revealing his toned abs. His silver hair is stylishly swept to the side, his beard trimmed neatly. Damn, this photo is arousing me. My mom’s long-distance boyfriend is turning me on. I look away.

  “Wow.”

  “Wow is right,” she says, giggling like a school girl.

  “Very cool,” I say, still reeling from that photo. Damn, those Frenchmen.

  Mom sits up straighter. “He’s asked me to come and visit him soon.”

  “What? You just came back from there.”

  She shakes her head. “I know, it’s crazy, right?”

  Wow. Mom is in love. I’m in love too.

  Life is good.

  41

  I HURRY OVER TO OUR USUAL meeting spot for my second cup of tea — I’m in high demand today. Gabbie is already there, looking fabulous. She’s getting so big.

  She stands to hug me, dressed in a stylish coral maternity dress. The color looks fabulous on her. “How have you been?” I ask.

  “Great,” she tells me as she settles back into her seat. “But I want to hear about you. I want to hear all about your trip.”

  I take a seat across from her. “It was fabulous. My mom called off the wedding… two days before.”

  “No way,” she says, her pretty brown eyes as round as pennies. “But that’s a good thing, right? That’s what you wanted?”

  “Yes, it all worked out perfectly. And get this… now she’s having a thing with a hot silver fox Frenchman.”

  “Lucky girl,” she grabs her cup of tea. “I’m happy for her.”

  “So how about you? How are you and Eli? And the kids?”

  She beams. “We’re great. Eager for this little one to join the family. The kids are really excited too.”

  “That’s great. I’m so happy for you.”

  The doorbell clangs, and Maeve swoops in. I’m ecstatic to see her. Since she’s moved, she doesn’t get to meet up with us as often. She used to be the most regular member of the group, the one who always showed up, rain or shine, the unofficial leader.

  I spring from my chair and go in for a huge hug. “I’ve missed you, girl.”

  “I’ve missed you too. All of you!” She bends down and hugs Gabriella’s belly before she evens hugs her. “It’s been so long.”

  She takes a seat at the table, our usual spot in front of the cozy fireplace, mildly flustered. She shrugs out of her scarf and jacket.

  “Can I grab you a coffee or tea?” I ask.

  “No thanks. I’ll go grab one myself in a minute. I want to hear all about your trip first. I’m so sorry I missed it.”

  “Me too. It was great. You would have loved it. How’s the store going?”

  “It’s good,” she tells me. “I finally got an assistant to help me out. A young girl… she’s great.”

  “That’s great. Maybe you’ll get some time to breathe now.”

  She laughs. “Yes, hopefully.” She shifts toward me. “So did the wedding fall through? I meant to text you. I was insanely curious about it.”

  “It did!” I tell her. “Everything went as planned. And my mom even met someone new, a really nice guy named Antoine.”

  “Nice.”

  The doorbells clangs again. Corrie is fashionably late as always. She throws her hands up as soon as she sees us. “Girls!! The four of us!”

  She’s super excited to see Maeve and Gabbie. “The usual,” she hollers out to the barista who shoots her a scowl. Corrie can come off as a little bossy sometimes. She’s only about five foot two, but she completely owns a room when she enters it. Today, she’s wearing a white fur coat (I hope it’s fake), and tall heeled white boots over dark skinny jeans. The whole outfit is topped with a stylish white beanie.

  She steals hugs and slaps her tiny rear on the empty chair. “Did you hear about Paris?” she says to Maeve. “It was so fun. Kayla’s mom caught her fiancé with his pants down and a hussy between his legs.”

  I smile at her words. She conveniently fails to mention that she was all part of it, mere seconds before.

  “And we met this sexy Frenchman named Antoine. We had dinner at his place. I had a thing for him, but he was all about Kayla’s mom. I guess he prefers women his own age.”

  Maeve is still sitting empty-handed. She’s too enthralled with Corrie’s stories to go fetch herself a coffee.

  “And Oscar gave Kayla the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and she said NO!!”

  Dropped jaws all around. Yes, I’m the stupidest woman on the planet, I know.

  “And what about Paris?” Maeve asks. “How was it?”

  Corrie waves her hand. “Oh, too many people, rude servers, dog shit on the sidewalks, the usual.”

  We all laugh out loud as the barista comes over reluctantly.

  This promises to be another fun meeting.

  Meeting up with my friends is great but unfortunately, I’m not quite there. I’m thinking about Oscar the whole time. About Danielle’s words. About Mom’s words. Panic sets in and my pulse races, the beating of my heart becomes noticeable. I’m caught with the sudden feeling that I am making the worst mistake of my life by not moving forward. I feel him slip from my grasp, and I imagine what that would be like. What would it be like if he found someone else, and had to let me go? Because he certainly would need to let me go if he ever were to get into a serious relationship. And ditto for me.

  All this time, I’ve been worried about losing my best friend if we were to move forward. But the thing is, I risk losing him if we don’t. And how many people are lucky enough to marry their best friends?

  I’m suddenly consumed with this urgent need to move forward. As much as I enjoy my friends’ company, I can’t wait for our get-together to be over.

  As soon as we say our good-byes, I dash out of the café, and head across town to my favorite antique store. I’ve been in there more times that I can count — I know it like the back of my hand. And I know there’s a gorgeous silver man’s ring, etched with a cool design. I pray that the ring is still there as I scurry to my car and hop in.

  If it’s not there, does that mean it wasn’t meant to be?

  I shake my head. No, it doesn’t. It just means that someone’s bought it. It’s a gorgeous ring, so it wouldn’t surprise me at all. I cross my fingers and step on the gas pedal.

  I almost forget my purse as I rush out of the car, comple
tely flustered. I run into the store, and head right to the jewelry display. My heart sinks when I see that the ring is gone. I stand there, feeling hopeless, and study the jewelry. There are quite a few new pieces, and some old ones I recognize from before.

  Wait… the ring is still there — they’ve just moved things around. My heart swells at the sight of it, shining under the overhead light. Mrs. Parker, the store proprietor notices me ogle the case. “Hello, Kayla. How are you?”

  I grin from ear to ear. “I’m great. I’d love to see that ring, right there.” I point at it, eager.

  “No problem, let me just grab the keys.” She turns on her heel and quickly scurries away.

  I stare at the ring, imagining Oscar and I on our wedding day. I have no clue how I’m going to go about this, but the vision of us is perfect.

  Mrs. Parker comes back and opens the case for me. She pulls out the ring carefully. “I’m told this is from the sixties,” she tells me. “It’s quite beautiful.”

  I take it in my hands, and study it closely — the design circling it is amazing. I rub it between the pads of my fingers, feeling its cool hard curve — strong, good quality. The ring is quite large, which is great because Oscar’s hands are huge. I check the price tag again — it’s fifty dollars. “I’ll take it.”

  Mrs. Parker beams. “Good choice.” She takes the ring from me. “I even have a pretty green velvet box for it.”

  “Perfect,” I say, giddy.

  Things are about to get real.

  Love

  Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. — Lao Tzu

  Nothing makes you more crazy, scared, happy, wild, mad… than love. Love makes the world go round, as they say.

  Love is the most complicated, the most intense of emotions. It fills us, and breaks us too. It drives us. It inspires us. Some of the greatest poems were inspired by love, the most beautiful paintings, and the loveliest music. Wars were started… all because of love.

  There are all kinds of love: romantic love, familial love, friendship love. What I have with Oscar is all of the above. I’ve been lying to myself for a while now, telling myself that he was just a friend. Just a good lay.

  But he’s so much more than that. Why didn’t I see it before? Because I was scared to. Love is scary. Loving someone openly is making yourself vulnerable, risking heartbreak and loss. As much as someone loves you, they can never promise to always be there for you. The abandonment of my father has made me so scared to love, I’ve almost passed up the most wonderful chance to have love with Oscar.

  It took being in Paris to open my eyes. Beautiful Paris. I think I needed to step out of my usual bubble, out of my comfort zone to finally see the truth.

  I’m still scared. I don’t quite know how to deal with this sudden realization. But one thing’s for sure, I know I don’t ever want to lose Oscar. I want him to be part of my life forever.

  I can finally imagine what it would be like to share a life with him, and to have babies. I might love our children so much, I might just explode. Can my heart take that kind of intensity? My heart is fragile. It’s been bruised, cracked, and I tend to it carefully. But I truly believe that it is safe in Oscar’s hands.

  I’ve never truly given my heart to anyone before. I think it may be time.

  42

  I RACE HOME TO CHANGE. I’m wearing leggings and an oversized sweater but that just won’t do for a proposal. I want to do this right.

  I rummage through my closet and search for my sexiest pieces. I settle on a long black dress, stiletto heeled suede boots and my red jacket with the oversized black buttons. I pull my ponytail out and wear my long hair down because he loves it that way. I touch up my make-up and dab on some red lipstick. My hands are trembling as I drop the velvet box in my coat pocket.

  I zoom down the road, careful not to go too fast. The last thing I need right now is a speeding ticket. I park not too far from the coffee shop where he works. As I head over, my legs are wobbly and walking is a bit of a challenge. Who knew your legs could shake when you’re nervous?

  My pulse races as I venture into the coffee shop. There he is, at the counter, chatting with a customer; a tiny elderly man. I stand motionless, and study him. If all goes well, this is the man I will spend the rest of my life with, the father of my children, the person by my side. I realize how lucky I am to have found such a beautiful person, inside and out. A man who adores me as much as I adore him. Someone who won’t let me down. A man who will keep me excited about life for the rest of my days.

  He finally spots me, and smiles even wider. “Kayla!” he blurts out and rounds the counter. “What are you doing here? You hardly ever come by. You look freakin’ amazing.”

  I smile. “Well, today is a special day.”

  He cocks a brow. “What? Did I forget something important? It’s not your birthday yet.”

  I drop on one knee, right there, in front of everyone. Oscar looks at me with a confused expression. I pull out the velvet box and quickly pop the lid open. I’m literally shaking in my boots as I present it to him.

  His mouth drops to the floor. “What?”

  “Oscar Cohen,” I say, and my voice cracks a little. “W-will you marry me?”

  Hoots and hollers break out. The crowd is loud. Whoo-hoos all around. “Do it!” I hear a man call out. “She’s hot as hell.”

  We both turn to the crowd, laughing.

  “Do it,” the small elderly man yells out. “Grab her while you can. Oh, if I were your age, Oscar.”

  Oscar is speechless, motionless. I’ve never seen him like this. My fragile heart pounds harder. What if he doesn’t want me? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I don’t get to spend the rest of my life with him? What if I’ve just completely embarrassed myself in front of all these people?”

  He falls to his knees without words. He grabs me in his arms. “Of course, I will,” he cries into my shoulder. “This is the happiest moment of my life, Kayla.”

  I burst into tears, tears full of happy. “Me too.”

  The roar of the crowd is loud as they whoo and clap. Oscar and I are both kneeling on the floor, in tears. I don’t know about him but I’m a little embarrassed. I never thought I’d be bold enough to do something like this, but Oscar always brings out the bold in me.

  He finally pulls from me. “I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world,” he promises.

  I pull the ring from its box. “I know you will.”

  He stretches out his arm, presents me his hand, and smirks for good measure.

  I smile as I slip the ring on his finger — it fits perfectly. We grin at each other, and as he stands, he pulls me up with him and hugs me again. The crowd roars once more. We smile and wave at them like we’re Meghan and Harry. I blush at the sight of them all.

  “Don’t move an inch,” he says as he reaches for the wallet he keeps in his back pocket. A huge smile splits his face in two as he eagerly digs into it and pulls out my ring, the very same one he was going to give me in Paris.

  I get giddy at the sight of it, and bounce up on my heels. “I can’t believe you’ve had it all this time, in your wallet.”

  He smiles. “Of course I did. You had to know I’d give it another shot.”

  He falls to his knees again and takes my hand. “I promise to be everything you deserve, Kayla… every single day.” He slips the ring tenderly on my finger, and in that moment, I know, without a doubt, that I’ve made the right decision. The crowd cheers and hollers once again.

  A small elderly woman tears herself from the crowd. She approaches us slowly and takes my hand in hers. Her hand is cold and frail. “You take good care of him,” she tells me. “You’ve got yourself quite a prize there,” she adds with a sweet smile. “Oscar is a wonderful person.”

  “I know,” I agree. “I will… take good care of him.”

  “And he’ll take good care of you, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, he
will.”

  I know he will. I have no doubt. I smile at the thought of the two of us growing old together.

  As if he can read my thoughts, he says, “Yep, I’ll still be rubbing her feet when she’s ninety.”

  The lady laughs and shakes our hands. “All the best.”

  I cuddle up close to him. “I can’t wait to grow old with you.”

  “Yeah… I’ll be dead sexy with grey hair,” he jokes.

  “Oh, I know you will.”

  “So, you love me too now,” he teases. “No more unrequited love.”

  “I’ve always loved you,” I tell him. “I just finally realized it in Paris.”

  “Took you long enough.”

  “Oh, shut up and kiss me, Mister Cohen.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Cohen.”

  And with those words, he presses his soft lips to mine.

  Epilogue

  Seven months later…

  WE GATHER AT OUR USUAL TABLE. The place is packed and hopping. Corrie is early today, surprising all of us. She’s dressed to the nines again in one of her vintage furs. Maeve is wearing a gorgeous shearling jacket, and her long dark hair escapes from a pretty pink toque. And Gabbie is dressed in a long classic black jacket, stroller in tow.

  We all peel off our jackets, full of smiles and excitement. We’ve all got our hot mugs of tea and coffee, a cappuccino for me. Ginger cookies for Gabbie, and a muffin for Maeve.

  Charlotte is gurgling, kicking up her little legs. Gabbie tends to her, unwraps her from her little winter onesie. Charlotte smiles up at her mother — the sight is precious, and it tugs at my heart. Charlotte’s cheeks are flushed and she’s inherited her mother’s dark eyes and hair. She’s adorable as can be.

  “Can I hold her,” Maeve begs. “I’m dying to.”

  Gabbie smiles. “For sure.”

  Maeve sits up straighter, excited. She pushes her hot latte out of harm’s way, and grabs Charlotte eagerly from Gabbie’s arms. Charlotte doesn’t fuss and stares up at the ceiling with wide eyes.