Noah

"This should be fun, then." I turned my ball cap backward and pushed up the sleeves of my Henley. "Let's work up a sweat, yeah?"

He didn't seem amused, but he followed me when I picked up the pace to a jog. There was no way he could be surprised. I'd gotten dressed in sweats and running shoes, and he'd lived with me long enough to know better.

We reached the church in a few minutes, and as I caught my breath, I pictured my parents strolling around here decades ago. I could imagine what she'd point to and tell Pop to take a photo of. The trees, the stunning view, the church itself, the expansive staircase, and all the countless angles.

"It's official," Julian panted. "I hate cobblestones."

I chuckled and looked down where he stood, bent over. "That was just the first ninety steps, kid. You spent already?"

He ignored that. "I really need to give up smoking."

"Best thing you've said all day." I clapped him on the back and peered up at the church. "Come on. Let's climb that dome thing before we go inside the church." I had a feeling I wouldn’t be interested in any workout once I'd seen the interior and assaulted myself with more memories of my folks.

To the left of Sacré Coeur was the entrance for those who wanted to go all the way to the top. I made sure I had cash to pay the fee, and then we ended up standing in line for a solid half hour.

"I'm glad we came." I draped an arm around his shoulders and leaned on him a bit. "Maybe next anniversary, we can go to where Mia and James went on their honeymoon."

Julian scrunched his nose and looked up at me. "You want to revisit the place where my mom and dad got it on like rabbits?"

Okay, I hadn't thought that through. I'd just thought it was sweet, the whole tribute thing. And it beat talking to some random fucking gravesite in Pittsburgh. They weren't even buried there. Or anywhere.

If I remembered correctly, Mia and James had gone on some romantic cruise, anyway. It would be different than sightseeing in Paris.

"Never mind." I scratched my nose. We were almost there, thank fuck.

"I like the idea, though." He nudged me with his shoulder. "I'd like to go somewhere that meant something to them next year."

I smiled and nodded with a dip of my chin. "Me, too."

It was finally our turn, and I paid for us before we were let in some narrow-as-hell spiral staircase. Jesus fuck, I could barely fit. A few inches narrower and it would be the same width as my shoulders. Everything was made of stone, and running was out of the question.

"You go first." I pressed myself against the wall so he could pass, which he did with a quizzical look. I smirked and shrugged. "I wanna enjoy the view." There weren't many windows, after all.

A claustrophobic person would freak.

"Casanova," he muttered.

I laughed, and it echoed. "Only for you, baby."

There. I had officially started giving him truths.

He didn't reply, but every now and then, he glanced back at me. I could see his mind was spinning.

As it turned out, climbing up to the dome of Sacré Coeur was a fucking slow process. The people in front of us evidently didn't exercise very often, and there was no place to stop. In fact, it got narrower and narrower the higher we got.

The last leg of the race, even I was getting winded, and it was nearly impossible to fit. Low ceiling, bad air, uneven steps, and everyone was exhausted. But we made it, and when we stepped outside and got the first glimpse of the view, I understood why tourists flooded the church.

I grinned, strangely happy despite the date.

The sun peered through the clouds as we entered the lookout area that surrounded the dome. An all-stone balcony embedded in the building gave us a 360-degree view of the city, and Julian's eyes lit up.

It was breathtaking, no lie. Both him and Paris.

As he snapped off a few photos with his phone, I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle. He only froze for a second, maybe getting used to my wanting to be close. Fuck, always close. I craved it.

We could see for miles, yet it was him I had my eyes on.

I recalled the day of the memorial service. He'd stepped out of the car a hot mess. Stricken by grief and despair. He'd been my nephew then, sort of. And if someone had told me I'd one day look at him and believe he had the most beautiful soul and was the sexiest person I'd ever seen…? I would have thought that person was high or off his goddamn rocker.

I pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "You make me happy, Julian."