My jaw opens. “It’s beautiful,” I gasp, my fingers coming up to my mouth trying to cover my surprise.
The view of the Eiffel Tower is spectacular. It’s a distance away, but the view is completely unobstructed and on the top floor of the building it’s perfectly aligned.
“I can’t believe we’re here.” Ansel leans his body against the railing. The veins in his arms stick out and I don’t know how he can bear standing out here with no jacket.
“I can’t either. This whole trip has been surreal.”
I still can’t believe December is approaching. We took our time in each country and city we visited, truly immersing ourselves in the culture and lifestyle. It’s been an experience I know I’ll never forget.
Ansel dips his head in my direction. “I might never leave.”
I stare back at him, noting the serious tone to his voice even though his smile suggests he’s joking. “I wouldn’t blame you.”
I leave him on the balcony so I can finish exploring the apartment, it’s not like there’s too much left to see.
The bed in the room is huge, and I’m sure an apartment like this might be used often with honeymooners. The canopy above the bed is a soft petal pink and with the white and beige bedding it looks like something out of a fairytale. Gliding my fingers over the covers, I blush as I watch Ansel out on the balcony, the breeze carrying in through the open doors.
I’ve slept with him every night since our first night in London. I haven’t had any more nightmares either. I don’t for a second think I’m cured of them because he’s there at night, but I do think the comfort of his presence keeps my mind from sinking into a dark place where I’m more susceptible to them.
Leaving the bedroom, I step into the attached bathroom. It’s small, but nice. I can’t help but smile at the claw-foot bathtub, knowing I’ll have to make use of it. I pause, taking in my reflection in the mirror.
I look better than I did when I left the States. I’ve gained a little weight, my body filling out more into womanly curves. My eyes are a little brighter, not quite happy but not so haunted. There are more changes too, but those are on the inside. My confidence has grown with our travels and my heart … it’s still a little broken, but it’s beginning to stitch itself together.
Sighing, I turn away from the mirror.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Ansel announces, closing the balcony doors.
“Where?”
He shrugs. “There’s probably a café or something close.”
“Okay,” I agree, eager to get out on the streets of Paris. Already, the vibe in this city speaks to my soul.
We leave our bags to unpack later, too eager to immerse ourselves in the heart of things.
As soon as we step onto the street I inhale the air. I smell the heavenly scent of various foods stirring in the air and people chatter on the streets, walking at a clipped pace to get wherever they’re headed.
Ansel’s head swivels back and forth, trying to take everything in. The look of awe glimmering on his face makes my heart flutter. There’s something in his eyes I can’t explain, but I know it speaks to something in my soul. I want to look at something like that. Sadly, I think I might’ve looked at Lachlan in a similar manner, but he’s gone and I have to move on.
Moving on is easier said than done. I’ve vowed to myself to send him no more texts, but knowing me I’ll break my promise eventually.
We’re only about two or three minutes from the apartment when we spot a quaint café tucked down an alley. It would be all too easy to miss, but apparently Ansel has an eagle eye for these kinds of things.
He holds the door open and I trudge inside, inhaling the heavenly aroma of espresso. American coffee has nothing on the stuff you can get in Europe. I don’t know how I’ll survive once I return home.
We snag a table by the window, it doesn’t let much light in, being in the alley and all, but it’s nice. There are only a handful of other tables and people sit around chatting at them.
Ansel places our order, already knowing what I’ll want, since his French is better than mine.
“I don’t know how my dad ever left France,” he remarks, looking out the window to the street we came from. “He met my mom here. She was on vacation with some girlfriends after college. He convinced her to stay the rest of the summer with him and they fell in love. He moved to the States with her and the rest is history.”
“I guess he loved her enough to leave.” I flinch as soon as the words leave my lips. Did Lachlan leave because of his love for me? It doesn’t seem likely. If he truly loved me he would’ve waited. I was so close to graduating and we would’ve been free to be together. I shiver at the memories of the nasty rumors that circulated those final weeks of school. All year I had flown under the radar, no one found out about my past, but at the end I became the subject of gossip and ridicule.
“What is it?”
“Huh?” I shake my mind free of my thoughts, looking across the round wooden table at Ansel.
He flicks a piece of dark hair out of his eyes. “You looked lost. Where’d you go?”