Page 27 of Meet Me in Paris

“I should go,” I said.

“Now?” Hunter peered outside again. “It’s still raining.”

I grabbed my stupid dress in all its stupid wetness and gathered it in my arms. “I’ll bring the clothes back tomorrow so she doesn’t miss them.”

“She?” He looked genuinely confused.

“See you in the morning.” I yanked the door open and plunged into the hallway.

We spentthe morning at Versailles, in awe of the incredible décor and beautiful grounds. We walked around quite a bit, Hunter and I not saying one word to each other the entire time. Jillian looked ready to burst with curiosity. She’d been asleep when I got back to the hotel last night, so we didn’t have a chance to talk. Since she would have known Hunter and I walked home together, it felt like a storm brewing. Sooner or later, the clouds of Jillian’s eager questions would open wide. Which was why I avoided her and Hunter both.

I’d barely seen half of Versailles and its grounds before I bid the others farewell and raced back to the hotel to meet Claude. I returned just in time for Claude’s car to arrive. But to my surprise, he wasn’t even in it.

His driver explained that Claude awaited us at the first rental location. For a guy to own a car in a city like this, let alone employ a driver, seemed impressive enough that I didn’t mind. Relieved I wore a cute skirt and blouse today, I analyzed the neighborhoods we passed. The locals would know where the best neighborhoods were, but everything looked charming to me.

When we arrived, Claude stood outside. He hurried to open my door, then took my hand to help me out. “Apleasure to see you again, Miss Kennedy.” He lifted my hand to his lips and placed a kiss there.

Uh. Okay? “It’s great to see you too. I’m excited for today.”

“As am I. We will see three options, all exquisite.” He stepped back and gestured to the structure behind him.

I stared at the modern apartment building and gave a surprised squeak. “Wow. This is in the budget I texted you?”

“Slightly above, but budgets can be adjusted.” He guided me down the walk and inside the propped-open door, where we ascended modern concrete steps. Even the hallway looked like a business building you’d see in Manhattan.

We ascended to the fourth floor. The last door in the short hallway unlocked easily, and I was greeted by a huge open room with high ceilings. For a second, I felt as if on a movie set. The floors and kitchen cupboards were a glossy black, the countertops a glossy white, the walls an opaque, glassy gray. One entire wall was indeed glass, showcasing the view. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower dominated the sky.

“Wow,” I said. I didn’t know if this room needed a party or a lone movie star in an evening gown. A single wall separated the bedroom and bathroom from the rest of the space. The modern platform bed looked larger than anything I’d ever seen. It could probably fit a whole family. And it sat lower than most but not as low as the tub, which looked almost like a recessed swimming pool at the level of the floor. Next to the tub, another glass wall showed off the view.

Modern and sleek, it screamed upper-class Paris. It should be exactly what I wanted. But I saw no history here, no charm. If an apartment could turn up its nose at its own people, this one certainly did.

“It’s beautiful but not what I’m looking for,” I told him. “A little too much future and not enough past.”

To my relief, he seemed to understand. “On to the next, then. My driver waits at the curb. Shall we?”

For some reason, I felt relieved that his driver would be joining us on this outing. Nervousness, surely. Claude had never been anything but the perfect gentleman. Everything about him seemed perfect, really. Like the elegant heroes on those romantic comedies Mom and I watched on Wednesday nights.

Once we were underway, Claude installed in the passenger seat and I in the back, he spoke over his shoulder. “Your companions from the restaurant—they are relatives of yours?”

“My sisters and an old friend.”

“The friend looked like he wanted to commit murder when I spoke to you.”

Ah. So he’d noticed. “Just a neighbor from my childhood who lives here now.” It felt odd describing Hunter with the wordjust. It felt like describing the universe in all its beauty, layers, and depth in a single word.

“You want to move here to be close to him.” The last word lifted in question.

I chuckled, barely able to hide the bitterness. “More like I want to move here in spite of him. Living in Paris was my dream long before he knew it existed. He just made it here first.”

“He stole your dream.”

I looked at Claude in surprise. Jillian would call me dramatic for using the wordstole, but I couldn’t help it if that word perfectly described my feelings. “It’s nice to know someone understands.”

He turned to face me. “I understand this better than you think. I grew up in a small town near Toulouse, by the Spanish border. There is much history there, but history, she battles the modern parts of the city. I wanted to live where yesterday and tomorrow meet, where each makes the other better.”

Where yesterday and today meet.What a beautiful description of Paris. “You get it better than anyone I know.”

He shrugged. “Many tourists come to escape one or the other, but I believe happiness is found when you embrace both. Paris is good at that.” We stopped at a red light, and he examined me long enough that I began to feel uncomfortable. “Which do you escape in moving here, Miss Kennedy?”

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