I scan my key card and open the door. Walking into the cream marble entrance, we pass the guest bathroom and make our way to the living room. “Holy shit,” she says, setting her purse on the couch as she walks out to the office, which is enclosed with windows, and then she steps outside to the balcony and sees the Eiffel Tower. “Look at how pretty,” she says, smiling at me over her shoulder. Her beauty gets me every single time, so I stop and look at her. She puts her hands on the railing, and I make my way outside, looping my arms around her waist and leaning down to kiss her neck. Her hands cover mine, and she tilts her head a bit to give me better access. “I bet when it lights up, it fills the sky,” she says, still looking out at the scenery.
“Do you want to work outside?” I ask her, and she just nods her head. “Okay, I’ll go get your stuff.” Kissing her cheek, I turn to walk inside to grab her bag and then hear a knock on the door. I walk to it and when I open the door, the bellman holds up what I was waiting for. “Thank you.” I smile at him and then walk back into the penthouse.
“Hey,” she says, coming inside. “Where did you go?” She comes inside the room, eyeing the tan garment bag. “What is that?”
“First,” I start, “don’t get pissed.” She immediately goes into a pissed-off stance with her hip cocked, arms crossed at her chest, and eyes narrowed. “Well, that helped.” Laughing, I unzip the bag and take the dress out. “I know you’re walking with me tomorrow, and I’m sure that you have a dress, but when I saw this in the window, all I saw was you wearing this on my arm.” She walks to me, her eyes on the dress.
“It’s so pretty.” Her hands touch the lace of the dress, picking up one of the sleeves. It’s a one-shoulder nude slip dress with black lace embroidered over it. The dress is pulled in at the waist and bunched together at one side with a slit down the side.
“It’s so delicate. I don’t know if I can pull this off.” Her fingers roam over the dress.
“How about you try it on tonight, and then we can see tomorrow?” I walk to the master bedroom and hang it in there. “If you like it, you can wear it.”
“I love it, but . . .” she starts, but another knock on the door interrupts her. Looking down at my watch, I realize it’s probably my parents. “Oh my God,” she says, and her hand goes to her stomach, “that feeling, it’s back.”
I walk to her, taking her hand in mine and bringing them to my lips. “I promise you everything is going to be okay.” She nods at me, and I hear another knock on the door. “I have to go let my parents in.”
“I’ll wait on the couch so they don’t think we were having sex.” She smooths down her shirt, and we walk out. I head to the door, and she goes to the couch.
Swinging open the door, I see my parents there with big smiles on their face. “Hey.” Moving away from the door, I say, “Come in.”
My mother walks in first, followed by my father, and they close the door behind them. “This is just as beautiful as ours,” my mother says. “We have a huge balcony.”
“It’s too much,” my father says, and we finally make it into the living room. I’m expecting to see Jessica, but she isn’t there. “The room has two couch sets.” I walk outside to the balcony, and sure enough, there she is, looking at the skyline.
“Mom, Dad,” I say, and she turns around to look at us with a smile, “you remember Jessica.”
“Of course,” my mother says, going to her and hugging her again. “You look lovely, dear,” she says and stands next to her. “Now look at this view, Frank.”
My father stands next to me and hums. “What do you guys want to drink?” I ask them.
“I’ll have some wine,” my mother says, and I look at Jessica who just nods.
“I’ll help you,” my father says, following me into the room. I go to the bar, opening a bottle of white wine.
“Let’s have it.” I know he’s standing there, waiting to talk to me.
“Son,” he starts, and I take out a bottle of beer, twisting off the cap and handing it to him, “she’s a reporter.” His voice lowers. “A beautiful one, but still a reporter.”
“I know, Dad,” I say quietly, looking out the window to make sure she doesn’t come in, “but it’s, I don’t know.” I shrug. “It’s different. She doesn’t ask me shit, and we sit down and talk about everything.” He doesn’t say anything, maybe knowing I’m not done yet. “She makes it normal and not about what I have to offer or what I can do for her career.” I twist off my own beer cap and drink down a long pull. “Shit, when we started this trip, we hated each other, but she makes me laugh. If she is going to argue with me, she is going to argue with me and doesn’t give a shit about me or my ego.”