Page 19 of Meet Me in Paris

I tried to hide the giant grin on my face, but I couldn’t. The memory of the sheer terror on Jillian’s face would fuel me for a very long time. “Sorry, Jillie.”

“Sure you are. I’m going to the gift shop upstairs.” She stomped toward the exit.

I turned to Alexis. “You okay?”

She glowed. “All the respect. The prank king is back.” She gave Hunter and Alfonse high-fives before following Jillian out.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I whipped it out to find a simple, concise message from Claude. I had called him last night and left a voicemail with details of my budget and what I wanted but hadn’t heard anything until now.

Send me the address of your hotel, and I will pick you up at 14:00 tomorrow. I have three homes to show you. If we have time afterward, I would be pleased if you could join me for drinks. I would very much like to know you better.

If stomachs could tingle, mine did. A handsome French guy wanted to know me better over drinks? That certainly sounded promising.

I grinned and typed a quick reply, agreeing to the plan before putting the phone away and heading for the exit. Hunter followed the movement, staring at the pocket housing my phone with blatant curiosity.

I felt his eyes on my back the entire way out.

We spentthe rest of the morning riding a double-decker tour bus around the city, getting off at popular tourist sites, and enjoying them at our leisure until the next bus arrived. We sailed in a wide circle around the Arc de Triomphe, Hunter smiling softly as we chattered excitedly, taking videos on our phones. Jillian looked fully recovered as she spoke to the camera, her hair flowing in the wind and her smile wider than I’d ever seen it.

I checked off another list item at Notre Dame. Mom had given me a collection of bookmarks with sketches of Notre Dame for my twelfth birthday, and I’d kept every single one. But being there in person far exceeded my expectations—the soaring, arced ceilings, the gothic architecture, the brilliant windows, the black-and-white-checkered floor. The loud bells I could still hear from several blocks away. The square outside that featured almost as many pigeons as tourists.

At one point, my sisters wandered off as I stood in front of one of the smaller stained-glass windows, admiring the brightness of the blue and picturing what this building looked like centuries before.

“How do you feel standing here?” Hunter asked, reaching my side.

I cocked my head, still gazing at the window. “Small.”

He turned to me. “Why small?”

“Because this place existed long before I did, and it will hopefully last long after I’m gone. I don’t know how to explain it.” Mom never got to see it at all, and it felt unfair that I did. Because her father died, no less.

“I know exactly what you mean. So much of Paris is that way.” Hunter gazed up at the ceiling. “People built this, yes. But in a way, it’s transcended man and launched itself into immortality. Yet we haven’t found a way for mankind to achieve that same immortality. So these places only remind us of the fact that we won’t be around forever, no matter how hard we try. We can only leave behind the beauty we create.”

Swallowing back the sudden tightness in my throat, I pondered his words. Some people made beautiful things like this incredible church. Others created families and let their children become the legacy they left behind. Like Mom. In that way, our little farmhouse and Notre Dame had much in common.

“Yeah,” I managed. “Something like that.”

As the day went on and we toured the city, I grew quiet as I pondered what we’d seen so far. I didn’t expect the feeling of melancholy that followed at each site, as if every box I checked off my list drained the slightest bit of my dreams into nothingness. Would I feel fulfilled when I accomplished each of those items? Would I feel closer to Mom, having accomplished the things she wished she could have done?

Or would I feel emptier than ever?

Hunter finally dropped us off to change for tonight’s formal dinner, promising to return in an hour. Thankfully, the only evening dress I owned fit in well here—a stylish, black, asymmetric gown with an off-the-shoulder sleeve on the right side and a single knee-high slit on the left. The cut of the waist made me feel tall and slender. Best of all, the fabric shimmered and glittered like the night sky.

I stood admiring myself in the sliver of bathroom mirror I could see from the bedroom when Jillian came over in her sky-blue sleeveless cocktail dress barely long enough to cover the essentials. “Dang, Kennedy. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since Mom’s—uh, since a few years ago. Hunter won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

Okay, we clearly needed to talk about this. “Jillie, I’m not dressing up for Hunter. It’s a sister trip. He just happens to be our tour guide. One I didn’t want in the first place, might I add.”

“Fine, but even I can feel the strain between you two. You obviously have some unfinished business that needs to be resolved.” She shrugged. “If that requires a little kissing, then so be it.”

“I’m not—Jillie, there will be no kissing.”

“None at all?”

“Not a single pucker. He’s engaged, remember?”

She gave me a coy look. “He isn’t married yet.”

“He’s off the market, and that’s what matters.”

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