Anna popped a chip in her mouth. “Now you do.”
Mike came in, and stopped when he saw the four of us gathered around my computer. “Breaking news?”
I looked up. “Are you getting a tux delivered in France? For any reason?”
“Oh, yeah. There’s some charity thing Friday night.”
Kate’s head popped up. “And when were you going to tell Natalie this?”
His eyes flickered back and forth between all of us and he started to back up. “I can tell when I’m not wanted. I’ll just...go disappear.”
“Go have a boys’ night with Paul!” Lauren yelled after him.
/> He ducked his head back in. “I’d rather be traded.”
I met his eyes. He grinned and wrinkled his nose at me and vanished.
The O’Connor women went with us to the airport, as they planned to do a little more exploring of the country while we were out of it. Kate gave me one last box before we left. “These are from Maggie. I know you said you could just pick up something in France, but Maggie had your size, and I thought—well, you don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.”
“Thank you.” I took the box but didn’t look inside. “I’m sorry about digging up the past.”
She smiled painstakingly. “It’s time we got over it. We could have used you ten years ago.”
Chapter Twenty
So. The thing about the Eiffel Tower? It was big.
That shouldn’t have surprised me. When it was first built in 1890, it was the tallest building in the world, and at fifteen hundred feet it still rose above the rest of Paris, the most iconic part of an incredibly iconic skyline.
Yet at first, catching glimpses of the monument between Haussmann’s elegant apartments as our taxi zoomed through the streets, it looked like no more than a toy. Even when we reached the narrow, tree lined streets of the seventh arrondissement—the neighborhood that housed the Tower, upscale homes and our touristy hotel—and a leg of the structure peaked through at the cross streets, I thought, oh, that’s not that big.
Then we dropped off our bags, walked over and looked up.
And up.
It was like a monster. A gorgeous metallic beast that cut into the sky, so large that when you stood by one of the legs it blocked out everything else.
We climbed to the first level, and then took the elevator to the top. Paris spread out before us, as different from Kilkarten as New York from the Andes. To the south, the Champs du Mars spread out before us, a patch of green amidst the elegant tan and gray buildings with their turrets and balconies. A dark, shadowy rectangle sprung up in the distance like a blot against the skyline, while just slightly to the left the much more pleasing golden dome of Napoleon’s tomb marked another park. Farther on came the Seine and its bridges. The shadow of the tower stretched across the green water, pointing toward the Arc de Triumph and its many avenues. Closer, the palace and gardens of the Trocadéro curved toward us.
Gazing at it made my heart expand in my chest, until I felt like I might float off, fueled by admiration and happiness and joy and beauty. And then I turned my back on it all and kissed Mike until I thought sheer euphoria would carry me off.
When I drew back, he was grinning so hard his dimple showed. “What was that for?”
I kissed the dimple. “It is a rule that you kiss on top of the Eiffel Tower.”
He slid his arms around my back and pulled me closer. “That so?”
“In fact, if you weren’t here, I’d just have to walk up to some stranger and kiss him.”
For lunch, we spread out a blanket halfway between the monument and the military academy on the other side of the park. Like-minded tourists and locals surrounded us. Children raced tricycles while their parents chatted on green benches.
Men jangling Eiffel Tower keychains walked about, targeting camera-wearing tourists and extracting exorbitant amounts of money. A man with dozens of roses moved from couple to couple.
“Don’t do it,” I muttered to Mike as the salesman walked determinedly toward us. “Don’t make eye-contact. Say non, merci.”
Bouquets were shoved in our faces. “Hello, monsieur! A flower for your beautiful lady?”
Mike looked up. “Yeah, sure.”