Page 189 of The Vacation Mix-Up
I swipe my hand at him. “Once we arrive in the city, we’ll have around ten hours before we have to check in at Charles de Gaulle. That’s plenty of time.”
“And what are we supposed to do with our suitcases? Drag them along with us?”
“No, silly. Of course not. I booked us two storage lockers at Saint-Lazare Station.”
He stares at me.
I stare back. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says, smiling as he shakes his head.
“So, should we eat escargot, or not?”
“Riles—”
“We should, shouldn’t we?”
“Riles—”
“Oh, I don’t know. The thought of it grosses me out.”
“Riles!”
“What?”
“Keep moving!”
“Okay! Okay!”
After disembarking the ship, and roughly two and a half hours later, we’re strolling by the Bouquinistes along the Seine River, passing cafés with delightful chairs and tables facing the streets, many Parisians enjoying their coffee while people-watching. Soft florals float from open doorways of perfumeries, gold-gilded statues, bridges, and domed roofs glittering in the sunlight. Pooches strut along cobbled laneways, their owners in tow. I soak up the culture, beauty, and tradition, basking in the romance and extravagance.
We visit the Moulin Rouge, and Montmartre, where my breath catches in my lungs for the first time that day. The second time is when we enter Notre Dame. The third, on the top level of theEiffel Tower.
And the last, seconds ago, when Riley’s flight was announced as “boarding.”
Pain constricts my chest, and I breathe him in, memorizing his minty, musky scent and how his arms feel wrapped around me, his hands in my hair, lips pressed, our heartbeats syncopating.
I pull away, eyes locked to his, words spilling from them with the same intensity as if spoken.
“Have a safe flight,” I murmur.
He cocks his head. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“I-I don’t know what to say, but—” A tear escapes my eye, and I bury my head into his warm chest. “—I know I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“It’s only goodbyefor now, sweetheart. Not forever.”
“It’s still goodbye.”
He cradles my head, leans away from me, and rubs the pads of his thumbs under my damp eyes. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Nodding, I stretch to my tiptoes and give him one last kiss.
“Final boarding call for American Airlines Flight AA755 to Philadelphia, boarding Gate Eleven.”
Finding what little strength I have left, I step back. “Go, or you’ll miss your flight.”
“I can think of worse things.”
