Page 8 of Meet Me in Paris

My mouth suddenly felt dry. Maybe I should buy that water bottle after all.

“This. Is. Incredible.”Jillian flitted from one section of the windows to another, taking photos with her phone. “I still can’t believe I’m here. Kennedy, isn’t this amazing?”

It really was. I almost regretted scheduling our Eiffel Tower outing for the first day, wishing I could fully enjoy it. My vision seemed fuzzy at the edges and my brain felt entirely disconnected from my limbs, but at least we’d been able to take an elevator to the second floor instead of climbing the stairs. Or at least Jillian and I had. Alexis opted to climb the steps—all six hundred-plus of them. She hadn’t arrived yet.

“The view will be even better from the top,” I told her. “There’s a bit of a wait for the elevator, though. You might want to get in line now.” I’d printed off nearly an entire book of travel advice before leaving the agency, and it appeared it would be worth the effort. “I’ll wait here for Alexis and meet you up there. She shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Deal.” Jillian melted into the crowd. Even at twenty-two, my youngest sister seemed like a teenager. I could almost imagine her as an energetic, bubbly, sixty-year-old woman. More like Mom than any of us, and it both warmed and slashed my heart a bit to think about it.

Alexis appeared at my side then, barely out of breath.She had the endurance of a racehorse. “That took longer than expected. How was the elevator?”

“Big and crowded. How was the climb?”

“About the same. I won’t feel guilty at dinner tonight, though. Probably burned a thousand calories in half an hour.” She turned to me, a hint of challenge in her gaze. “I’m taking the stairs back down later. You should join me.”

A competition or an invitation? Alexis didn’t seem to enjoy my company any more than I did hers, and probably for the same reason. We never spoke about her decision to leave Mom and live with Dad during the divorce. We didn’t need to. She made her choice, and we made ours. The difference being that Jillian and I made the right choice and Alexis made the wrong one. I often wondered if Mom’s health would have failed so quickly if she hadn’t suffered a painful separation from her daughter in addition to being rejected by her husband.

At any rate, Alexis knew my feelings on the subject. But she did seem to be trying, which was more than I’d done thus far.

“Come on, be spontaneous,” she said. “It’ll take, like, fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, whatever. But first we’re going to the summit, up top. I told Jillian we’d meet her there.”

“Good. Fine.” I couldn’t tell whether she truly wanted me to join her or not, but I let the matter drop. We were two women in our mid- to late twenties, and clearly we’d be sharing nearly every moment for the next month. We could be civil.

Mom would be proud.

The wait wasn’t long, and soon we found Jillian at the edge, recording herself. She looked brilliant and happy as shechattered on about the view below and beyond without seeming to care about the ugly protective metal grating behind her. Soon she waved us over.

“These are my amazing sisters,” Jillian told her audience, pulling me in close and stepping to the side so Alexis could join us. “Kennedy is the oldest, and Alexis is the middle child. I’m the youngest. We’re on the girl trip of our lives. Sisters for the win!” She gave us both an awkward side hug while I smiled at the camera and tried to forget how many tens of thousands of followers she had across the world, all of whom would see the jet-lagged version of me today.

As Jillian shoved her phone back into her pocket, Alexis said, “I don’t know how you do that.”

“It’s easy. You just have to look for the right shot.”

“No, pretend to be all perky and happy all the time.”

Jillian just laughed. “Yeah, especially when I’m running on two hours of sleep in two days. But, hey, we’re in Paris!” She made her way to a different side of the platform and pulled out her camera again.

Alexis wandered off, too, so I turned to admire the view. A sea of white and tan blanketed the city below, just beyond the park. Paris was an ocean of blocky historical buildings with a cluster of dark, modern skyscrapers in the distance, all separated by lines of trees and the deep-green Seine. I felt as if lifted into the sky, peering down on the world from heaven.

Did Mom feel like this, wherever she was? That our lives were small compared to the bigger picture? Did she guide her daughters’ lives in small ways from above? I had a theory that she inspired Grandpa to bestow his fortune on his grandchildren. Unfortunately, neither he nor she were alive to confirm it, so I would never know thetruth.

My chest ached, wishing I could ask her advice about Hunter just now. She liked him well enough as our neighbor and my childhood friend. But things got complicated after high school. When it came to Hunter, they seemed more complicated than with anyone else.

Or maybe they were simple and I just wanted to think they were complicated. It came down to the fact that Hunter had chosen someone else. Done. End of story.

But if that were true, why reach out to his neighbors the moment they arrived in town?

Because we’re old friends, Kennedy. Simple as that.Even engaged people were allowed to reminisce with their neighbors. I had to get out of my own head before my heart tried to take over and ruin everything. Maybe we should have slept longer than two hours after all.

After a few minutes, Jillian appeared at my side. “We’re hungry. Lexi is saving us a place in the elevator. We’ll go back to the second floor and go down from there. Did you really agree to take the stairs?”

Oh. Right. I had fifteen minutes of stairs in my future.

Yippee.

I nodded. Even that little movement made me dizzy. “I think so, unfortunately.”

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