Page 45 of Coulda

“Of course,” Rio agreed, pulling out his phone and making notes. He’d already jotted down their desire for an outdoor kitchen area with a pizza oven and seating for at least eight.

Her mind wandered as he sent a detailed message to the architect. When an idea popped into her mind, she asked, “Do you think anyone you remember will still be at the bar you worked at?”

“I won’t know until I get there. Perhaps not, and we’ll just have a glass of good French wine before choosing a restaurant for dinner. You don’t mind going with me, do you?”

“No. I’d like to see where you worked.”

“Perfect.”

Riding the Metro was an experience. Thank goodness Rio knew how to plot their destination on the interwoven subway lines. Amber hid her grin when her Daddy discovered that during his absence, the stations had updated to completely automated ticket sales instead of attendants at the windows. It had taken him several attempts to figure out how to order tickets.

They walked up the cobblestone streets leading to Sacré-Coeur, the gleaming white church that sat on the top of the hill. Small shops and cafés lined the way along with artists at their easels crafting beautiful creations as people watched.

A man finishing a portrait of a small child caught Amber’s attention. It was a remarkable likeness that captured not just the outward appearance of the toddler but a spark of life.

When she lingered watching, Rio suggested, “Shall we have him draw us?”

“Oh, that has to be expensive.” She tried to brush his suggestion aside.

“You have not asked for a single souvenir to take home. I think my wallet can handle this.”

Rio turned to talk to the artist who immediately seized on the opportunity to create something special for them. Rio sat in the chair carefully placed next to the easel and scooped Amber into his lap. As they sat, he regaled her with funny stories of the people he’d met in Paris.

Amber had almost forgotten about the artist who worked silently next to them until he announced, “Fini!”

Rio helped her off his lap and they rounded the canvas to look at the finished project. Her heart leapt in her chest to see the expression of happiness and laughter on their faces. The artist had captured them perfectly. Rio looked devastatingly handsome with his silvery black hair and dark eyes. And Amber looked lovelier than she’d ever thought of being. They looked right together.

Amber glanced up at Rio and tucked her hand into his. Delighted to have such a personal memento of their time together, she squeezed his hand and turned to thank the artist.

He responded with a fast slew of French that she couldn’t hope to understand. Rio, however, answered with a smile as he handed over the euros plus a tip for the artist. When the portrait was securely rolled into a protective tube, Rio guided Amber back onto the path.

“I love this,” she said, clutching the cardboard to her chest.

“You chose wisely, Little girl. It helps that he was captivated by you as he worked. He was very inspired to capture your likeness,” Rio shared.

“How sweet. I liked him, too.”

When they’d finished exploring the artistic area, Rio guided her back down the hill to conquer the subway system once again. “Let’s stop for a drink and some lunch at Harry’s.”

“That sounds very American.”

“Oh, it is. An American shipped a New York bar to Paris and put it back together here. It was a fun place to work.”

Getting off at the L’Opera stop, Rio told her all he knew about the gorgeous gilt-embellished building as they passed it. When they reached the bustling bar, Rio took her hand and led her into the crowd.

She turned to look when a man called, “VoiciRio!” and tossed a white apron his way.

Amber let the French tumble over her without even attempting to understand as employees came from all sides to hug and exchange the traditional kisses to the cheeks. As Rio introduced her, she was surprised to be swept up in the celebration when everyone greeted her with equal enthusiasm.

She hovered by his side as he held her hand to ensure she wasn’t lost in the crowd. A woman carrying a tray swept past to deliver food to a table before returning to stand near Amber.

“So, it was you he left to grow up?” she asked in English with a hint of a Parisian accent.

“Pardon me?”

“Rio told us he’d left the US so the one he loved would have every opportunity to live her best life. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

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