Page 51 of French Kiss

20

Sparkling Lights

July11

Pont Neuf

I couldn’t believethat at nine in the evening, the sun had yet to set. We headed down to the Vedettes du Pont Neuf. “It’s another boat outfit like the Bateaux Mouches down by the Eiffel Tower, but it leaves from right here. Saves us the walk,” Josh said as we jogged down the stairs below the Pont Neuf to buy tickets and get on the boat.

I was debating where to sit on the roof deck, but Josh led me away from everyone else who’d crowded closer to the front and instead suggested we stand at the back by the rail. “We’ll be able to see everything just fine from back here. Plus it’s less crowded. This okay?”

“Fine by me,” I said.

We’d cut it pretty close, buying our tickets for the nine thirty boat just minutes before the last call for boarding. The boat started moving right away, its loudspeaker playing the opening accordion bars of “La Vie en Rose” and taking us off on a French river cruise.

The vessel moved swiftly through the darkening water, chugging along toward Notre-Dame then making a U-turn and heading slowly in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. The sun was setting in front of us, dappling the water with orange and pink petals and shining warm light on the buildings on both sides of the river. The wind blew our hair back as we stood at the rail and watched the lights on both sides of the boat join the sun in casting a pink glow over everything. The air was still warm, and the breeze didn’t do much to chill it.

We passed by the commanding Haussmann architecture of the Louvre and the old train station that was now the Musée d’Orsay. Everywhere I looked were iconic buildings I’d only hoped to visit someday. I couldn’t believe I was here, sailing past Paris monuments like a character in a movie. My past seven years of study and work had been leading to this moment of relaxation and an opportunity to see beyond the fluorescent lights of a hospital ward. I’d earned this vacation week by week, shift by shift. I didn’t want to squander a second of it.

As the boat moved, we leaned against the rail next to each other, and I was acutely aware of Josh and feeling the urge to edge closer. I wanted him to put an arm around me. Where were these feelings coming from?

I didn’t think it was just a rebound mentality, wanting Josh to fill in the blank left by Maddox. But I needed to make sure before I did anything might ruin us. I looked at his profile and tried to see him as the unsexy guy I’d never considered for three years. I couldn’t see that guy at all.

The setting was so picture-perfect, and it felt like anyone would succumb to the romance of the city, the setting, and the music. The wine from dinner had left me with a relaxed sense that whatever happened now was meant to be and that I should live in the present and forget about where it would lead.

My emotions had been all over the place all day and I wasn’t sure I could trust what my brain was saying now. It was doing a good job of convincing me that maybe all the time Josh and I had spent together had been necessary to bring us here, to the moment when he would kiss me and it would knock my heart loose.

I’d never believed it was a man’s job to make the first move. After all, I’d been the one to kiss Jordan, my gym trainer, and set things in motion with him, so I was hardly afraid to be the instigator. But… this felt different. As much as I liked Jordan as a person, it was nothing compared to the bond I felt with Josh. I didn’t want to risk kissing him first. What if I’m wrong and it’s a really bad kiss?

The tour guide continued describing the sights as we passed them, starting in French then repeating in English. Some of the people on the boat had headsets on, presumably so they could hear her description in other languages.

“You have to go,” Josh whispered, pointing to the museum, which had two large glass clocks on its exterior. I appreciated his concern for the success of my stay in Paris, but once again, it reminded me that he was content to be there with me for just the one night. “The Tuileries Garden was created as an Italian Renaissance garden for the Tuileries Palace by Catherine de Medici in the sixteenth century. The land formerly housed tile-making factories, which were called tuileries. After the French Revolution, it was opened to the public…”

“You’ll love it if you liked the Rodin gardens…” Josh whispered, and when his warm breath hit my ear, I felt a tremble in my belly.

“Want to go with me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. And I didn’t feel steady.

Maybe he’d take that as an invitation to stay longer. I tried to decide how guilty I’d feel about disrupting his time visiting family to hang with me for another day or so. I could suggest it, I decided, but I wouldn’t pressure him if he said he had to get back to Germany.

“Maybe. Never say never, right?” he said.

The soft swishing of the water beneath the boat was hypnotic as we sailed along. The bright ball of sun was now gone, and the sky lit up in brighter pinks, yellow rims on the clouds, which now covered half the sky. I snapped a few photos, moving a little closer to Josh to take a selfie of us with the perfect light on our faces. Then I moved back to my spot against the rail, creating some distance between us, yet acutely aware of Josh still inches away.

With the sun making its final appearance above the horizon line, the lights on every bridge and building turned on in unison, barely noticeable at first because it wasn’t yet dark but adding a tiny sparkle as we sailed under the Pont Alexander III. Bronze cherubs were wrapped around lampposts along the bridge, which was festooned with pedestals holding golden-winged figures. It was the most ornate of all the bridges I’d seen so far. In the distance, I saw the gold dome of Les Invalides, where Napoleon was buried.

The Eiffel Tower loomed in the distance. I still had mixed feelings about returning to the scene of the crime, as it were. But standing next to Josh, I decided to exhale the humiliating thoughts of my earlier humiliation for good and enjoy the fact that I was actually with a better guy.

From the water, the sight of one of Paris’s most dazzling monuments still stirred up feelings of the romantic fantasy I’d thought about for the past few weeks. We were at a point where the river curved, so I could only see part of the tower. I forced myself to focus on the tour guide’s words to distract myself from my confused feelings about Josh and my sudden urge to get off the boat before we rounded the bend and caught the Eiffel Tower in full view.

“The Palais de Tokyo is a modern art museum…”

Then out of nowhere, Josh put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. I stiffened, surprised at the sudden show of affection, but then my body relented, sinking into the comfort of being with him.

It felt so right and I wanted to fold myself into him, but I cautioned myself that he probably thought of me as the same friend I’d always been. I’d curled up on his couch to watch a movie with him on dozens of nights, and we’d huddled close to each other under his one fleece blanket. There was no reason to suddenly second-guess his friendly affection.

I forced myself to breathe and relax into his shoulder, which felt warm as the air temperature started to drop in the absence of the sun’s heat. I looked at him from the side, wondering if his face would betray some explanation for his sudden decision to pull me in.

He looked forward, focusing on something I couldn’t see until I forced myself to look away from him. Then I saw it too.

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