One Week in Paris

by Roya Carmen

  Well, that’s what I tell myself anyway…

  I study the dress Claire has picked out—it’s one of my favorites, probably the favorite. It’s a fifties-era dress I spent a small fortune on at one of those posh vintage stores—pink chiffon over taffeta, a corset-like bodice with lacy straps, and a flowing skirt that falls just above the knee.

  The pink dress brushes the carpet, hanging off Claire’s tiny six-year-old frame. She looks so sweet in it. I can’t help but stare. I’ve only worn it twice—once at the theatre, the other time at a wedding. Gabe’s oldest brother tied the knot on a beautiful July day, which somehow managed to turn into a torrential downpour. We all got drenched. Gabe and I sprinted to our hotel room, undressed in a fury, and made love. Gabe’s wet shirt was plastered on his body, the tribal tattoo covering half his torso peeking through the soaked fabric. It’s one of my favorite (very hot) memories.

  I looked really nice in that dress.

  “You look like a princess,” Chloe tells her little sister. Claire, seemingly pleased with this observation, flashes her adorable toothless smile.

  The dress seems so small. Would I still fit into it? No way. I’m almost thirty-five years old, and I’ve had two kids. But… I just need to know.

  “Claire,” I venture softly. “Can you take the dress off?”

  She shrugs, tiny brows furrowed. “But you said I could wear any of your dresses.” She’s not taking it off. “It’s my favorite,” she says with pursed lips. Even when she’s being difficult, she still manages to be adorable.

  “Well, it’s my favorite too actually,” I tell her, stroking the chiffon between my fingers. “But it does look very nice on you.”

  She ponders me for a second, and I can almost see her little mind working. She stares at me with those big brown eyes of hers—she’s so sweet. “Do you want to wear it?” she asks softly.

  “You think I should. You think I could fit into it?”

  “For sure,” she says with conviction. Well…she’s definitely more optimistic than I am because I’m pretty sure I won’t fit into that dress.

  She wiggles out of it, and I quickly get out of my shabby sweats. I’m down to my undies and undo the side zipper.

  “The moment of truth, girls…”

  As I carefully slip the dress over my shoulders, I’m surprised. It falls to my knees and seems to still fit. But whether I can zip it up or not is the question. I make it three-quarters of the way there, and the dress fits more snugly than I remember…but it fits!

  I kneel down as Chloe assists me in zipping it to the top. “It looks really nice on you,” she tells me as we study my reflection in the mirror.

  It does.

  I’m happy I still fit into my favorite dress. But on the other hand, I’m a little depressed. I’ll probably never get to wear it again. Let’s face it—my life is not exactly full of charity balls and glamorous events. Gabe and I don’t get out much—our idea of a date night is a hearty meal at the local family restaurant and a movie, or perhaps the occasional dinner with friends.

  “Why do you look so sad,” Claire asks, a dash of concern in her sweet voice.

  Because Mommy has no life.

  I smile to reassure her. “I’m not sad, Claire. It’s just…I’m probably never going to wear this dress ever again.”

  She looks at me like I have three heads. “You’re wearing it right now, silly.”

  I laugh at her. She has a way of making me giggle, and right now, my life is wonderfully perfect—I have her and Chloe, and Gabe.

  “You’re right, Claire,” I pipe up. “I am wearing it. We should do something special. We’re all dressed up.”

  “How ’bout a tea party in my room?”

  I smile. “Sounds wonderful.”

  “So tell me, Mirella,” Claire starts. “How have you been?” she asks, her sweet voice laced with pomp and circumstance.

  Her expression makes me laugh. “Why, I am just divine, Claire. Thank you for asking.”

  I sit at the tiny yellow table in my vintage pink chiffon dress, nibbling on animal crackers and drinking iced tea. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to wear the dress somewhere—perhaps Gabe and I could go see a show—it could be a lot of fun. I should speak to him about it.

  And there it is…that “defining moment” wrapped up cleverly into an “ordinary moment.”

  What if we hadn’t been in that closet playing dress-up? What if Claire hadn’t picked out that dress? What if it hadn’t fit? What if…

  Copyright © 2015 Roya Carmen. All rights reserved.

  Acknowledgements

  A million thanks to my wonderful husband and kids. Thanks to my hubby for taking me to Paris in 2013. The beautiful memories served as inspiration for this novel.

  I would also like to thank all my amazing readers. Thank you so much for reading all my crazy stories. Many thanks to all those who have shared my books, whether it be by telling a friend, writing a review, or sharing on social media. Thank you to all the wonderful bloggers who have supported The Ground Rules Trilogy, The Riverstone Series and the One Week Series. I was delighted when One Week was a success and everyone started talking about it and spreading the word. Also, thanks to all those who have written reviews. You have no idea how much that means. Reviews are crucial and word of mouth is key. Without all of you, I wouldn’t be here.

  Again, thank you to my wonderful Beta readers, Chancy, Geneva, Melissa, Veronika, Angela, Sarah, and Louise. You gals are all amazing, and good friends. Thank you to Emily for your wonderful feedback and editing, and also your friendship. I can’t thank you all enough. I’m very lucky to have you.

  And finally, thank you to all my book friends!