Page 8 of Pampered in Paris

“I grew up outside of the city. My parents moved further into the countryside, and I moved to Paris for culinary school. Sometimes it gets lonely, but every day is different when you’re in Paris.” His eyes glaze over for a moment, and I reach out and touch his shoulder. He gently kisses my hand.

“It’s a beautiful city to live in,” I murmur as I linger a moment before withdrawing my hand. “I wish I lived here instead of Maine.”

“You could move. You mentioned divorce.” He nibbles on some cheese. “What keeps you there?” He asks so nonchalantly.

“That’s true.” I bite my bottom lip as I try to sift through my thoughts.

What keeps me in Maine? It’s not a loving relationship. But I do have friends and family.

“For me, I stay in Paris because I enjoy it and I can’t imagine losing the hustle and bustle of the city. But I don’t have ties to keep me in Paris forever. I’ve thought about it before. If there was a good offer, I’d take it and move.”

“I suppose I could move if I wanted. But the divorce took a while and during that time, I quit my job, and I didn’t want to lose my whole support system. My friend offered to train me professionally, and I started working at the bakery. My family all lives in Maine, and while we’re not super close, they are my family, and I love them.”

“In my family, I’m an only child but I have a lot of cousins. Unfortunately, as a single guy in his thirties living in this city, I’m the black sheep. My support system is François.” He chuckles.

I let out a long sigh. “My parents are always comparing me to my sister. She has the life they expect us to have, and to them I keep making mistakes.” I look away, trying to keep the tears from coming. I’m tired of being compared and being told my decisions are wrong just because they’re not what my parents expect from me.

“Oh,mon chérie.Mieux vaut être seul que mal accompagné,” he murmurs as he takes my hands in his. “You are full of passion. Don’t let anyone dull your fire.” He gives me a curt nod before letting go of my hands.

I wish he didn’t let go.

I hesitate, unsure if I want him to answer, but I go for it. “What was the French part?”

“I think…” He strokes his chin “…the equivalent in English is that it’s better to be alone than with bad company. If they only make you feel worse about yourself then you shouldn’t worry about what they think.”

I could have really used someone like Alexandre on my side during the divorce. An image of him in the courtroom pops up in my head. He’s there by my side, all dressed up in a navy suit, defending me in his accent, articulating the odd consonant or two.

Maybe it’s time to let myself be swept up in love again. I want someone like Alexandre in my life. The one who believes in me and will fuel my passions. I may be here to treat myself to a much-needed vacation, but I’m going to relish any time I can spend with Alexandre.

Paris is the city of love, after all.

Alexandre

The picnic sunlight seems to be turning to dusk. We’ve spent all afternoon munching on cheese and chatting about our lives. This time with Anne feels so natural. It’s taken all my willpower to not touch her more. Her neckline is just low enough to display what I can only imagine are very ample breasts. I’ve only been able to give her quick pecks on the cheeks and hold her hands here and there.

“We should pack up soon,” Anne says as she finishes her drink. “It seems like it’s going to get dark fast.”

“Don’t let that sky fool you. It will be a few hours until darkness comes to the city. Do you have dinner plans?” I look at my phone for the time. It’s still too early for a typical French dinner, but we only leisurely grazed over the afternoon.

“No. I’m not particularly hungry though. Are you working tonight?”

“I took the night off in case you needed your personal travel guide all day.” I beam at her, eager to convince her to spend more time with me. Perhaps she’ll agree to dinner, despite the lack of hunger.

“Really?” Her eyes seem to twinkle, the joy in her face evident as she grins.

I reassure her that I’m free all night but she insists on skipping dinner. Instead, we take a leisurely walk along the Seine and continue to chat. I tell her about working in the restaurant and she fills me in on the details of her conference. It’s cute how she smiles with her front teeth showing when she talks about pastries and how she bites her bottom lip when she’s deep in thought.

All too soon, we arrive at her rental.

“I forgot to give this to you earlier. I spaced when I saw all the food you brought.” She pulls a small box of chocolates from her bag.

“For me?” I take the box from her. They’re dark chocolates shaped like fish. “What a perfect surprise.” I lean down to kiss her cheek but she turns her head and I kiss her lips. They’re soft and taste faintly of apples.

It must be from the champagne.

Her lips part slightly, and I deepen the kiss, hungry for more. I want to feel her curves underneath the summer clothes. I pull away, both of us catching our breath, the rise and fall of her chest noticeable against the slight flush of her skin. She tucks her hair behind her ears as she touches her lips.

Perhaps this is purely a fantastic dream.

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