Page 41 of Meet Me in Paris

“So, where are we headed?”I asked Hunter. “Don’t say ‘you’ll see,’ or I’ll punch you in the arm.”

His eyes twinkled. “You’ll . . . find out.”

I swung anyway, and he ducked as we walked. While dropping me off to change at the hotel room earlier, he’d warned me to wear good walking shoes, which was a given considering how sore my feet were from my heels last night.

I recalled Jillian’s knowing grin as I walked in. For all she knew, I’d been with Claude all night. Alexis only rolled over in bed with a soft snore. I’d simply told Jillian to spend the day doing whatever she wanted and to be careful on the metro. I wasn’t sure I could explain what happened last night even if I wanted to.

A handsome, rich Frenchman invited me to his apartment, but I ended up in Hunter’s bed instead. But it didn’t go further than his arms around me.Like they would believe me. I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.

“You know I hate surprises,” I told him.

He swung his gaze to me. “You love surprises. You just hate not being prepared for every little thing.”

Okay, probably true. “Stop being so smug and give me a hint, at least.”

“Nope. You’ll figure it outtoo fast.”

Exactly the plan. Besides the Louvre, which I had tickets for later this afternoon, I couldn’t for the life of me think of something we hadn’t done yet. A site only locals knew, perhaps? I hated thinking of Hunter as a local, but he knew far more about living in the city than I did.

Half a mile later, the crowds on the sidewalk thickened. Definitely a tourist site, then.

Not until we arrived at an intersection and I caught sight of a sprawling building in front of us did I gasp. Tan with gold accents and a rounded, greenish roof . . .

“The Paris Opera House,” I breathed. Or, in French,Palais Garnier.I’d completely forgotten.

Hunter grinned. “The inspiration for a certain one of your obsessions when we were twelve. Remember?”

Boy, did I. I’d seen the moviePhantom of the Operaand begged my mom for a trip to Broadway to see the musical. She’d finally relented when my class scheduled an art trip to New York. I’d saved for ten months. But the musical didn’t fill my hunger. It only compounded it.

“When you came home, you announced you’d be changing your name to Christine,” Hunter said, chuckling.

“And I tried to convince you to change yours to Erik,” I said, remembering. “I was pretty intense back then.”

“Back then?”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “This trip means so much to me, and being with my sisters . . . I’ve waited almost three decades to see this place.”

His smile faded into disappointment, though I wasn’t sure why. “I know. I want it to be special even more than you do.” I looked at him curiously, but he dodged my gaze as we crossed the street and started up the steps, carefully picking our way between sitting tourists.

A short line later, we entered a rotunda with a shorter ceiling than I expected, but I remembered the history of this room. The architect had intended for it to feel cave-like to make the rest of the building feel grander. But even this area felt special. If someone told me I was on a movie set, I wouldn’t have questioned it. Stone walls, tiled floors more ornate than anything I’d seen, and Hunter at my side.

“They say it only gets better from here,” Hunter said. “You ready?”

I gave him a strange look. “I thought you’d already been through it.”

“Not this. I didn’t want to experience it before you did. It didn’t seem right.”

My heart pounding at his thoughtfulness, I just swallowed and nodded.

Then we entered the room with the grand staircase . . . and my heart stopped altogether.

Opulentdidn’t begin to describe it. This room, with its carved stone and beautiful, wide, curving staircases that spanned floors . . . and the ceiling! Painted in bright, bold colors an impossible distance above my head. The building seemed large from the outside, but the ceiling seemed to soar to the very heavens now. The huge candelabras made the lighting seem like candlelight. The color palette—gold, tan, dark brown, and black—gave the area a somber, mysterious air, a strong, substantial declaration to the world of wealth, status, and permanence. Even the balconies—of which there were many, each featuring a lounging tourist—stole my breath.

I imagined myself dressed as Christine in a grand ball gown, descending these very steps.

Heck, I could see myself as every princess ever.

I glanced over at Hunter and found him looking at me. Examining me. Experiencing every inch of this beautiful building through me and my reactions, almost as if he memorized this moment.

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