Page 5 of Pampered in Paris

I walk around the Louvre,fully immersed in the guided tour. The guide takes our small group all around the museum to see the different masterpieces. It’s crowded and warm.

Thank goodness I wore comfortable sandals with my sundress today.

We hit the tourist highlights such as “Venus de Milo,” “The Winged Victory of Samothrace,” “Mona Lisa,” “The Raft of the Medusa,” and so many other paintings. But my eyes can’t help but stay glued to the marbled figures. My favorite piece is the statue “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.” I want a monumental love like the one portrayed in front of me. The softness and care you can see by their embrace. The way the artist captured the intense feelings of love. The emotion depicted in marble is breath taking. Statues have always been my favorite type of art. To think about all the time, the strength, the lack of errors that go into creating these masterpieces, it’s truly astounding.

I know my whole trip is about me enjoying new experiences and enjoying time alone, but as I stand here, surrounded by all this fantastic art, I can’t help but wish I had someone next to me. It’s been a long time since my ex-husband and I had anything even remotely like the ideal relationship I had always dreamedof having in life. Relationships take work, but they shouldn’t be hard.

As I stare at the “The Three Running Fates and The Triumph of Truth,” I can’t help but feel as if things wouldn’t have happened the way they did unless they were meant to be.

I want a love like the ones these artists depict. I won’t accept anything less.

The tour continues, and I can’t help but remind myself of all the reasons why I got divorced. Which reminds me to text my mother and sister that I finally made it to the Louvre. Their responses are what I expected: jabs about how I’m wasting my precious time looking at art when I should be back home, working.

At the end of the tour, I still have time before I meet up with Alexandre so I wander around a bit more, taking in the various artworks. Finally, I head out to the Tuileries Garden to find the café. The sun is warm against my skin, and I’m thankful I packed my sunglasses today. I spot Alexandre sitting at a small metal table. He’s wearing jeans and a simple navy tee. His biceps are highlighted as he sits with his arms crossed.

I wonder how much he works out.

He spots me and stands up almost immediately.

Alexandre is a sight to behold. I greet him, and he leans down to lightly kiss both of my cheeks. I can feel my face warm beneath his touch.

“Tu es plus belle que l'œuvre d'art,” Alexandre whispers in my ear. My French is limited to mostly pastry terms, but I know he called me beautiful.

And what a way to guarantee my blush is fully taking over my face now. I look away briefly, unsure of how to respond.

“Have you been waiting long?” I ask him as I return his gaze. His crooked smile is adorable, the way one side is slightly higher. It suits him well.

“Not at all. Would you like to get some coffee? My treat.”

“Yes, please. The tour was great but I’m desperate for a caffeine pick-me-up.”

Alexandre leads me to the little window to order. I decide that I want to attempt to order in French. I don’t know why I am longing to impress him, but I also can’t get our kiss out of my head. He places his order and gestures to me.

“Je voudrais un café chaud et des frites, s'il vous plaît,” I say with gusto and am met with two people looking utterly confused. The worker says something in French, too quickly for me to follow. I don’t know what’s wrong. I said please; I used the formal register that native speakers use to illustrate politeness and professionalism. And I don’t know what they said in return. I look at Alexandre with wide eyes and ask for help.

Alexandre’s head tilts and he asks me if I mean to order French fries. This stand doesn’t even have fries on their menu. I close my eyes. Of course, my pronunciation is wrong. Fries and fruit are so close.

“I meant fruit, not fries,” I say meekly, eyes cast down.

This coffee date is not going well.

I smooth the skirt of my dress while Alexandre talks to the café worker in very fast French. He takes my hand and lightly squeezes it.

“Problem solved. If you want fries later, let me know. There’s a greatcrêperieI can take you to that serves fries so fresh you’ll burn your tongue.” He releases my hand as we collect our goodies and find an empty table in the shade.

“I wouldn’t want to burn my tongue,” I reply automatically.

“I’d kiss it and make it better,” he retorts as we sit down. Thank goodness I’m not drinking my coffee. I would have snorted hot coffee all over the place.

“Dually noted.” I blow on my coffee as an excuse to not make eye contact right now.

I need to get this date back on track. I don’t want to be embarrassed or make another language mistake. I want to wow him. But more than anything, I want to kiss Alexandre again. I want to feel his lips on mine once more.

Alexandre

I’ve known Anne less than a day and already, I know how easily flustered she can be. She’s so open to new experiences, to trying new things. It’s courageous to be that outgoing, even with risking embarrassment.

Plus, her blushing cheeks are adorable.

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