Page 31 of All the Gossip from Paris
“I have lunch booked for us at Monsieur Bleu which is also near the Palais de Tokyo. I would have taken you to Le Restaurant at the Hôtel Costes, but I thought you might be too tired to walk all the way over to Rue Saint-Honoré.”
“Why don’t we take the Metro?” he asked.
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Um. No.” How was she to explain that in her world, things like public transport simply didn’t exist. Walking the streets surrounding the Royal Resorts hotel was the closest she got to living like the millions of other regular Parisians did.
“I’ve never been on the metro in Paris. When I usually come into the city, I have a driver who brings me. Though today, I drove myself.”
Instead of feeling proud of having successfully navigated the Paris traffic this morning, she was embarrassed. It occurred to her, that in his eyes she was probably nothing more than a spoilt princess. One who never lowered her lofty standards to actually get on the metro.
Camille had said it had taken her some time to get Ryan to see past her wealth and privilege. That until she’d met her future husband, she’d never realized how hard it might be for someone who had an ordinary background to come to terms with her world. That world, the one inhabited by billionaires and the super elite, was something Sophie had been born into—she didn’t know any different.
She’d been super proud of herself the day she got her driver’s license. Many members of her extended family, including her sister, couldn’t drive. They’d never needed to learn.
I expect Liam has been driving since he was tall enough to reach the pedals.
As an uneasy silence settled between them, Sophie quickly retreated into herself. She fiddled nervously with the silver ring, dotted with tiny diamonds which sat on her right hand. It was a gift from her twin sister, one which she treasured.
“Walking sounds fine. I’ll be able to take photos if we’re on foot,” said Liam, breaking the silence. He held up his camera. “How about I snap a quick photo of the two of us before we leave. It would be nice to have some pics to remind us of our day in Paris.”
“Really? That sounds a bit cliché,” replied Sophie.
The last thing she wanted was photographic evidence of today. She wanted it to be over and then go home.
“Hey, I’m an American tourist in Paris taking a photo. What bigger cliché can you think of unless of course you can get the Eiffel Tower in the background,” replied Liam.
“Fine. One photo. But no sharing it anywhere. You can send it directly to me.”
She quickly checked her hair in one of the nearby mirrors, and wiped away a stray smug of lipstick.
That should do.
Liam shifted a large vase of flowers from the main entrance table, and set up his camera. He scooted back to where Sophie was waiting, and slipped his arm about her waist.
“It will count down from five. When it gets to one, we both say cheese,” he said.
Cinq. Quatre. Trois. Deux. Un. Fromage!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Yves Saint Laurent museum was interesting, but after a while Liam was finding it all a bit of a struggle. While Sophie gushed over the clothes, he had to force himself to pay attention. It was like being back in high school. Sitting through one of those classes where you knew you had to pay attention, because at some point there was going to be a pop quiz about it.
When Sophie started making noises about the late designer having changed how the world viewed Prêt-a-Porter, all Liam could think about was dashing out the door and finding the nearest Prêt-a-Manger sandwich shop.
I’d kill for a strong hot coffee.
She caught his eye, and Liam gave her his best smile. Sophie stepped away from the glass cabinet she’d been studying and came to his side. “You’re bored. I can tell that looking at the garments on display is not doing a single thing for you. I’d call you a philistine for not bowing before one of the fashion greats but I get it.”
Liam winced. “Guilty as charged. I’m a thirty odd year old male from New Jersey who hasn’t a clue about fashion.” He threw up his hands. “You’re right, I don’t get it. Which considering that I’m hoping to get a gig or two at Haute Couture Week, is really stupid of me. I promise I’ll try harder.”
“No it’s alright. I’d rather you were honest with me. This is an industry driven by ego, so it’s quite refreshing to hear someone admit they don’t understand what it all means. Too many people profess to know the world of fashion. In my experience few actually do.”
“Would Monsieur Saint Laurent take offence if we went to find a coffee?” he asked.
“No, I think his legacy is safe. Come on. Then we can walk down to the Palais de Tokyo, and I’ll show you the exhibition space.”
Class dismissed.
Takeout coffees in hand, they made their way up the front steps of the Palais de Tokyo. Sophie didn’t miss a beat as she marched straight through the front door and toward a set of nearby stairs. Liam dutifully followed as she began the circular climb.
