by DW Cee
“Bonjour, Je suis Emily Logan. Il est très agréable de vous rencontrer aussi,” I proudly uttered.
“Ah, vous parlez Francaises?” Francois asked.
“You speak French?” Jake asked, quite surprised.
“Oui, je parle un peu.”
Telling Francois and Jake that I spoke a little was about the extent of our conversation in French. I couldn’t keep up with the two of them as they conversed the entire time in French. Here and there, Jake would break the flow of his conversation and ask me what kind of lesson I would prefer. My choices were basic French cooking, pastry making, and even flower arranging. I chose to work with the chef de pâtisserie and learn dessert.
We spent four hours making French baguettes from scratch, croissants, creme brulee, strawberry savarin, mocha pot de creme, apple tarte tatin, lemon souffle, crepes, and even profiteroles. I was so in my element in the kitchen. I loved it, and Jake enjoyed watching me have fun. What was even better than making the desserts was of course eating them. The school set up a table for us in the kitchen and we ate every dessert we made. The pastry chef packed up what we did not finish and we walked out to the square hoping to relieve our distended stomach.
We walked quietly, hand in hand, toward the Tuileries Garden.
Jake turned to me and asked, “What are you thinking right now?”
“I was thinking that our private lesson at the Escoffier was about the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life!”
“You liked it that much?” Jake seemed quite surprised that a cooking school would make such an impression on me.
“If life would have turned out differently for me when I was younger, I probably would’ve gone to cooking school after undergrad. I feel most comfortable in a kitchen. Maybe one day when I’m retired, I’ll enroll in a cooking school just for fun. Thanks to you, I’ve checked off another thing I’ve always wanted to do. Thank you.”
Jake stopped walking and turned to look at me. I saw that same sadness in his eyes again. He was imaging what my life must have been like after I’d lost my parents. He stroked my cheeks with the back of his two fingers and lovingly gazed into my eyes. At first, I was uncomfortable standing so still in the middle of a busy street. But with the touch of his lips, I knew that Jake would make up for me the life that he thought I’d missed.
I broke out of our embrace and asked, “What’s next? This is so much fun! I might never want to leave.”
Jake laughed and walked me toward Chanel.
“What’s at Chanel?”
“We’re going to eat at Alain Ducasse’s Le Jules Vernes at the Eiffel Tower tonight. You need to pick out a dress.”
“What about you?”
“I brought a suit. If you can’t find a dress here, we can go to another store.”
I couldn’t imagine not finding something that I liked at Chanel. The only dilemma I’d foresee was the price tag.
“Jake, I can’t buy a dress at Chanel. Let’s go somewhere else. This is way out of my comfort zone.” Spending an insane amount of money on a dress I’d wear once screamed against my common sense.
“Love, I have one dress picked out for you already. Will you humor me and try it on? I’d like to see what it looks on you.” His encouraging words nudged me into an unapproachable shop.
The sales gals led me to a dressing room and had me try on a modern version of Coco Chanel’s little black dress. This sleeveless black wool dress was cut above the knee with a simple buttoned belt sewn into the dress. The skirt of the dress had loose pleats that gave it a slightly bouffant feel. The dress was perfect. In addition, the sales lady picked out a pair of muted white patent leather boots with a thin strip of black patent leather at the top that came up about one inch above my knee. Truth be told, I loved the outfit. Minus the sunglasses, pearl choker, and an updo, I felt like Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I stepped out of the dressing room to show Jake.
“You look stunning!” He enunciated each of the three words.
“We’ll take the entire outfit,” he said to the lady.
Watching Jake pay for the dress—in addition to this entire trip—made me horribly uncomfortable. When this trip was initially planned, details of who would pay for what, never arose, as all I wanted was to be with Jake. Now that this fantasy has come true, I needed to have an awkward conversation with him and tell him I had no financial expectations from him. The Ritz, private cooking lessons, a Chanel dress, and dinner at Alain Ducasse’s restaurant did not feel right in my world. I couldn’t deny enjoying the indulgence, but the impropriety of delighting in such luxuries made me feel guilty.
As we walked out of the store, Jake immediately sensed the change in my mood.
“Do you not like the dress? Are you upset I didn’t give you a choice in this matter? I just thought you looked so stunning…” Jake worried too much about my feelings at times.
“No, no. I love the dress. It’s beautiful and practical as well. I can wear it multiple times.”
“Then why do you look unhappy?”
“It’s just…this trip…we never discussed how we’d pay for it. Please don’t feel obligated to provide everything for me. I’d like to pay for something…”
“Emily!” he cut me off before I embarrassed myself any further. “The word obligation does not exist in our relationship. What I do for you stems from love and desire. I don’t need or want anything from you but you. What can you possibly buy me that’s more precious than you?”
“It’s not just the material possessions I’m talking about. You’ve showered me with love from the start. I didn’t actualize or verbalize this love till recently. You’ve taken me on trips, and brought me gifts and I feel like all I’ve done was received. I’m ashamed that I’ve only started reciprocating.” As I uttered these words, I realized how true this statement described our relationship.
“Emily. Back in New York, when I was stupid enough to go chasing after your ring rather than stopping you from leaving, then back at home, when you left me nothing but a letter and ran off to Japan, I promised myself that if we ever got a chance to be together again, I would spare nothing of myself. Whether material or emotional, what I have is all yours. And I know that materially, if our situations were reversed, you would do the same for me. So please, let me dote on you the way I’ve dreamed of for so many months while you were away. OK? What happened to your ‘you lead and I’ll follow’ motto?”
Could I possibly love a better man than this one?
“All right,” I answered. “I love you, Jake.”
“I love you too. Now let’s get ready for dinner.”
We got ready in our separate rooms and Jake came over while I was finishing up my makeup. His naughtiness resurfaced when I asked him to help me zip up the rest of my dress. Rather than helping me, he unzipped my dress, and draped his cold hands onto my body. He hands quickly crept up the front side while kissing the back of my neck. I turned to face him and tried to loosen his grip. He had a strong hold on me as he continued to caress my neck with his lips. There was no use fighting this battle, as he was much stronger. Using this as an excuse, I gave into both our desires. His hands traced over my back while his lips traveled to my chin. My hands wrapped around his neck and I brought his head up to join our lips.
Without a fight, my little black dress fell to the ground.
At this point my mind waged war on my body. Should I see this all the way through or should I stop Jake now? My body quivered, “Yes!” My mind retaliated with a “No!” Ugh. What a war this was. I wanted my body to win, but my mind was still stronger. I sighed! I’d been patient up until now, what was a bit longer till I got married? My mind won.
“Jake!” I pleaded. “Jake? Honey? Please, don’t.” My weak plea did nothing to alter his determination. My body was hoping it wouldn’t. Now that the dress was off, his lips and hands ran amok.
I would try once more and figured if this didn’t work, I’d concede to both of our desires.
; “Jake…I’d really like to honor my mom’s wish and stay a virgin till I get married. Please?” I begged one last time.
That stopped him in his tracks. He acquiesced grudgingly. He let me go and walked away while I got back in my dress and finished getting ready.
He muttered something that sounded like, “I gotta get this done soon.” He was probably trying to find some other way to woo me into bed.
Dinner at the Eiffel Tower was almost as spectacular as the view. We could see striking views of the city with many impressions of the tower’s intricate metal latticework. It was unbelievable to think that three hundred men built this structure in one year.
“Did you know,” I said while taking a bite of my grilled sea scallop, “that Sarah and I didn’t have time to visit the Eiffel Tower when we were in Paris?”
“Why not?” Jake asked, while enjoying his pan-seared veal with crispy spinach.
“Well, it was our last night in Paris, and we decided to splurge and go have a meal at Guy Savoy. Our meal took almost four hours and by the time we were done, the tower was closed. I’m glad we got to come today. We’ll have to take a picture and e-mail it to Sarah.”
When we got back in the car the driver took us on a scenic tour of the city. We saw the tower lit up from the ground, and we followed the Seine into the Rive Gauche. Revelers sat outside cafes and brasseries on Boulevard St. Germain des Pres sipping their lattes and grabbing a bite to eat. On the way back, our driver came up the Rive Droit and drove through Champs Elysees again.
“Today was beyond a doubt the most perfect day I could’ve imagined. I’d be content to go home tomorrow, it was so ideal. Thank you, Jake.”
Jake looked satisfied that I was happy.
“So what’s on tap for tomorrow?” I asked with a smile. “How could you possibly top today?”
“You start your day with more cooking classes. In fact, there’s a cooking class every morning for you at 6:30 a.m. They’ll take you through their entire program in the week that we’re here.”
“Are you serious?” My arms and legs flailed up and down in excitement as we walked back into the hotel. A few hotel guests turned around to see the crazy American.
“If you want to do it, show up at the Escoffier school by 6:30 every morning.”
We stood outside my door and I asked Jake what he planned on doing while I was at my cooking class.
“I’ll be asleep. You can bring me breakfast every morning when you’re done.”
“Deal!” I said. “I’m so excited, I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
“Glad you like it. Go in and rest. You have an early morning,” Jake said kissing my lips.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“I’m only coming in if you let me stay. I won’t have the willpower to leave tonight.”
My mind fought with my body again. I sighed and let him go.
“Good night,” I murmured, while kissing him back.
Today was truly the most magical day, and could have only been better if Jake had proposed. With such a romantic setting as the Eiffel Tower, Jake might have been encouraged to propose again if my first rejection hadn’t scared him off. Oh well. I shouldn’t dwell on it. I appreciated what I had now.
The alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., and without any struggle, my body gleefully got up and got ready for cooking class. I put on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and the Ritz apron I received yesterday. In class, there were two other students ready for our intensive lesson.
Today’s lesson: French Sauces:
To start, the chef had us make chicken, beef, and veal stock, which would be used today, as well as tomorrow, for our meat course. Once we got all the ingredients in the pot for the stocks, we attempted such sauces as Bearnaise, beurre blanc, and bourdelaise. French cooking definitely wasn’t easy. Chef Geurlaine also taught us to make a variety of salad dressings. We packaged all our sauces and dressings, and placed them in the refrigerator ready to be used with the meat courses tomorrow. By the end of class, I had learned a solid foundation in French sauces—another fantastic morning to an already amazing trip.
Tiptoeing into Jake’s room, I found him dressed but back asleep on his bed. He looked just as sweet as he did back in Hawaii but this time insecurity didn’t creep into my heart. We were meant to be together, and if in the future our relationship didn’t work out, I’d be content knowing we had a chance. I placed breakfast on the table and slowly crept into his bed and snuggled into his body. He smiled and cradled his arms around me.
“Hi Beautiful. How was class this morning?” he asked half asleep.
“Excellent,” I replied with a jubilant voice. “I have breakfast for you if you like.”
“I am hungry…but am enjoying laying here with you in my arms.”
“Why are you dressed but asleep?”
“I got an early phone call so I got ready for the day but felt so groggy I decided to go back to sleep. Jet lag must have caught up with me last night.”
“Do you want me to leave so you can sleep some more?”
“No.” He cut me off and let go of me. “I’m ready to get up. We have an appointment with Henri at Boucheron this morning. We should get going.”
Boucheron? Wasn’t this the jewelry store Jake visited yesterday? Why would we have an appointment?
Asking Jake what was going on was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t want to seem presumptuous and I didn’t want to pressure him into proposing.
As thoughts of Boucheron wouldn’t leave my mind, no different scenarios, aside from a proposal, played in my head. Jake stared at me with a smug gaze. Once again, Jake piqued my curiosity.
We left the hotel and walked to Boucheron. It was excruciating waiting for an explanation that never came. Jake talked about the day and told me that we were going to the Louvre and then to a soccer game after lunch.
“You can’t come to Europe and not watch these nationals go crazy over their soccer team. France is playing Italy today. It’ll be a great match up. We’ll have a car take us to the stadium.”
“Will we ever take the Metro here?”
“Why do that when you have a driver at your disposal?”
I let out a chortle and thought what a silly question to ask.
Henri was a delightful elderly gentleman who took us to a small private room upon entering this stunning jewelry shop. I didn’t realize regular people actually shopped in stores as glamorous as this one. Gawking around the main room, I looked for movie stars or some famous person, but to my disappointment, there were no sightings. Henri and Jake spoke in French the entire way into our room. They spoke so quickly I couldn’t catch any of their conversation. I was rather hoping to figure out why I was here. After a few minutes, I finally got an explanation, but this was not the scenario I had spun out in my head.
After all introductions were made, Jake explained he was here on Gram’s request to get her mother’s ring reset.
“Oh. How’s Gram doing? Can we call her after this errand?” I asked. “I miss her.”
“Should we go see her after Paris?”
“I’d love to do that! Do we have time? By the way, do you have a grandfather as well?”
“No he passed away two years ago, and she’s been living on her own since. She and Gramps retired in London back in the late nineties.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but I thought it rude since Henri was waiting for us.
“So, Gram is about to hand down her mother’s diamond to my mom. It was my great grandmother’s desire to see this ring handed down from daughter to daughter. Gram wants Henri, our family’s favorite jewelry setter, to reset this ring so she can pass it down to her. Neither Gram nor Mom will have anyone touch her jewelry except Henri.”
Not the explanation I wanted, but I was still a bit puzzled.
“So I assume the ring is ready and we are here to pick it up?”
“No, it’s not ready yet. We need your help.”
“What could I do?” I wondered
aloud.
“You and Mom have the same ring size and I was wondering if you could try on the ring so we won’t have to resize it. Gram thought since we were here in Paris, might as well get it done right.”
I kept playing twenty questions hoping for a favorable answer but it never came.
“How do you know your mom and I have the same ring size?” I asked, with a last hope that maybe I might be the beneficiary of good news.
“She was the one who tried on your eternity band. That’s how I know,” were the final words that made me stop the inquisition.
Jake and Henri looked at each other and said something furtively in French and chuckled. I was obviously missing out on their inside joke.
I abandoned the rest of my theories and waited for the ring. When Henri came back from the safe, he asked me to take off my eternity band and told me he would check it to make sure none of the diamonds were loose and he would clean it as well. I unenthusiastically took off my band while Henri handed the other ring to Jake.
Jake walked over and held out my left hand. His hands trembled and my heart began thumping wildly. He forced a casual smile and slowly pushed an enormous square cut diamond. I felt a chill go down my spine as he placed this dazzling jewel onto my ring finger. I knew it didn’t belong to me but the glow on Jake’s face suggested this ring was meant to bind us as one. The sheer magnitude and brilliance of the ring made me feel a lump of jealousy as well.
While I reveled in Sandy’s borrowed moment, Jake abruptly pulled off the ring and handed it back to Henri.
“Bon! Merci, Henri”
I had to walk out of the room so Jake wouldn’t notice the tears in my eyes. I knew the ring wasn’t mine, but in my heart, I so intensely wished for a proposal that didn’t happen.
Jake walked out after some time and led me outside, and we left, just like that, for the Louvre.
“Jake. What about my ring?” I asked.
“Huh?” His answer was a bit flustered. “How did you…oh! We’ll pick up the band before we leave.” I was in too much of a haze to comprehend his incoherent thought.
