I took the seat next to Maisie, assuming that Lola would be more comfortable sitting beside her father. Maisie instantly started jabbering away.
“I love Paris,” she said. “Do you think we'll see the Eiffel Tower from the plane, Avery?”
“I don't know,” I muttered, my stomach fluttering with butterflies.
I think I was more excited than the girls were and was struggling to keep it in check. But, then again, it was my first time, so I tried to cut myself a little slack. I had reason to be excited. From the sounds of it, Maisie and Lola had already been countless times.
“It depends on how clear the sky is, Maisie,” Spencer said, winking at his daughter. “But you definitely should keep an eye out.”
Maisie nodded and turned back to me. “Can you teach me French now, Avery? I want to say hello to everyone.”
I laughed and started to agree, feeling like it was part of my job description to get them prepared for their new life immediately. But, Spencer stopped me.
“Let her rest for a bit, Maisie,” he said. “There will be plenty of time for lessons once we're settled in. For now, let's just enjoy the flight.”
Maisie pouted, and I almost told him it was alright, but her pouting fit passed quickly, and Maisie had already moved on to something else. She pulled out a tablet from her bag and began watching a show. Lola was also on her tablet. Both girls were content and quiet as the plane took off, leaving my home – and the United States – behind for good.
I sipped my champagne and watched New York slip away behind the clouds. I couldn't imagine anything in my life ever coming close to that moment in time.
***
My eyes fluttered open as the plane touched down. As soon as we were on the ground, I was fully awake, sitting up in my seat and staring out the window. All I could see was the small, private airport that we'd landed in. My hands were trembling with excitement and my tummy was churning hard. “We're here! We're here!” Maisie sang, wide awake as usual. “Avery, aren't you excited, we're here!”
“I'm very excited,” I said, giggling along with her.
Lola, on the other hand, didn't look so sure. She had a grip on Spencer's arm and stared out the window. Her eyes were large and serious, and I'd have given anything to know what she was thinking in that moment.
I knew it would take a little time to get to know her and be able to read her correctly. Lola would be a tough cookie to crack, especially if I was to help her with everything she'd been through so far.
The next few minutes were a blur, but I tried to soak it all in, holding on to every last sensation that came to me. Exiting the plane, I expected the air outside to feel or smell different. It was French air, not American. But, no, it was still just air, and I suppressed a small smile to myself at the ridiculous, even childish, expectation that it would be different.
The temperature outside the plane was a bit warmer than I was used to though, and there was humidity in the air from a storm that had passed through while we were in the air. I looked around and saw all of the signs in French, heard some of the crewmen on the tarmac speaking the language, and yet, it still somehow didn't feel real at all to me.
I was in Paris. I was actually in Paris.
I had to remind myself of that fact over and over again and was still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. It felt surreal, like I was walking through a dream, and I was going to wake up at any moment. I clung hard to it though, willing myself to stay asleep if it was all a dream.
A black limo pulled to a stop on the tarmac before us, and Spencer ushered us inside. My heart was racing, and I strained my neck to look out the window, trying to absorb every detail of the world as we passed it by.
I knew from talking to Spencer, that his house was just west of Paris. I'd done a little Googling of the area and found that it was in one of the higher-end suburbs. It allowed for more space, a larger house, and more privacy. As we pulled up to the house though, I was not prepared for what I saw. Nothing I found on Google did the place the least bit of justice.
I stepped out of the limo feeling lightheaded, and I swear there were stars in my eyes. It wasn't a house. No, it was an actual mansion that stood before me. Sure, Spencer lived in a mansion back in New York as well, but this was on a whole different level.
Maybe, it wasn't as large as the house in New York, and it definitely wasn't as modern, but the classic Parisian house had a historical feel to it. It was like walking into a fairy tale. It was a two-story white house with columns wrapping around a wide porch that lined the front and wrapped all the way around to the back. Ivy inched along the sides of the house, reaching the second story patio which was surrounded by wrought iron railings.
We walked up the front steps to the house, the heavy wooden door extended upward, all the way to the second floor, or so it seemed. Spencer unlocked the doors and we stepped inside.
As if I couldn't be more impressed with everything as it was – the doors opened to a luxury marble foyer with a vintage spiral staircase carpeted in burgundy with gold trim. While it should have looked gaudy, it didn't, especially paired with the hand-carved railings leading up to the second floor, which overlooked the entryway.
A massive ornately decorated crystal chandelier hung from the second-floor ceiling, reminding me of something that should be in a museum or a ballroom, not just someone's home. This wasn't just anyone's home, though. This was the home of a billionaire businessman – and it showed.
The home came fully furnished, with ornate paintings lining the walls, oriental rugs on the floor beneath our feet, and granite statues that looked as old as the city itself. It was all incredibly tastefully done – and was surprisingly understated. No gold trimmed walls or gaudy, over the top displays of wealth there.
I was in awe.
The girls rushed in, brushing past me, and their giggling voices echoed through the house. Maisie turned and took her father by the hand, begging of him.
“Can we see our rooms, please?” she asked.