“Fine,” I say, pulling my hand back, but he reaches out and grabs it, holding it in his lap. I turn my head to look outside and smile the whole time. I watch the world go on around us, seeing him pull up to someone standing by the street.
He looks at me. “Let’s go,” he says, and I reach to open my door, but the man who is standing there does it instead.
“Madame.” He smiles and holds out his hand for me, and I take it. Getting out, I see Alex standing there in his blue dress pants, crisp white dress shirt, and brown jacket.
“What?” I whisper, looking at the Eiffel Tower right in front of us. “What?” I whisper again and look at him while he smiles at me, holding out his hand for me.
“We should have also stipulated that if you really loved the surprise, I would get a special treat.” He leans down and kisses my neck.
“I see some very special things happening for you tonight,” I tell him when I lean into him. We walk down the paved walkway.
He nods at the guard who is at the closed fence “Mr. Deville,” he says, and he opens it for us.
“Merci,” I say, following Alex as he leads me to the elevator.
“I know that you’ve wanted to come here since you arrived,” he says when the elevator dings, and we step in. “It’s our last night together, and I couldn’t let you go home without sharing this with you,” he says, and I look outside the glass windows as we ride up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The city with the sun setting behind it looks magical from this vantage point.
“It’s so beautiful,” I say, looking back at him and finding him watching me.
“It pales compared to you, Meghan,” he says softly, and the elevator door opens. He grabs my hand in his, entwining our fingers. “Surprise, Chérie,” he says, and we walk out into the room that is empty except for one table in the middle. I stop, and my mouth opens when I look around the room. Glass vases filled with water and floating candles are spread throughout the room; some are clumped together and some solo. Tall vases, small vases, round vases. Pink peony flower arrangements are scattered around the room. I do a turn of the room and see it’s a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the most romantic city in the world, and I’m standing here in front of a man who has crashed into my world. I try to catch the tear that has leaked out of my eye, but I’m not as fast as Alex is. “Chérie,” he whispers, holding me close.
“No one has ever been so thoughtful,” I tell him, blinking away the tears now. “This is so much more than I ever expected. It’s …” I look down at my hands on his chest, then up into his eyes. “Everything.”
He leans in to kiss me, and I bask in it. I revel in it. My hands wrap around his neck, bringing him as close as he can to me. “We need a picture,” I say to him, and he just nods, taking his phone out of his pocket.
“This way,” he says, taking my hand in his, and we walk to the edge as he holds his hand up and snaps the picture of us, our smiles filling our faces. My head next to his, my shoulder under his arm, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle.
“Send it to me,” I tell him, and he does. “I can’t believe you rented out the whole place,” I say, and the waiter comes in wearing a tux and holding a silver tray with two glasses of champagne on it.
“Bienvenue,” Welcome, he says, offering me a glass. I take it and then look at Alex as he grabs the other one. The waiter walks away, leaving us.
“We need to toast to something,” I tell him, and then I laugh, holding up my glass. “To sending back that bottle of wine and making the biggest but best faux pas.” I smile when he laughs and clinks his glass on mine.
“To your faux pas,” he says right before he takes a sip. We spend the night watching the sunset and the lights of the city come to life. We take the chairs from the table to the edge, and I sit here watching the city, watching the traffic rush by, with his arms around me and my mind almost empty.
We don’t say anything when we walk out of the elevator and make our way back, and we don’t say anything when he parks the car and we ride the elevator up to his floor. I don’t say anything when he stands in front of me and holds my face in his palms. We don’t say anything when his thumb rubs my cheek right before he takes my lips.
We don’t say anything when he undresses me and kisses every single square inch of me. He doesn’t say anything when he lays me down on the bed and enters me, my back arching up. He holds my hands in his, our fingers folded together, while he looks into my eyes and makes love to me. I don’t say the words screaming in my head. I don’t do anything but take what he gives me, over and over and over again. The night goes faster than any other time in my life.
When he lies on his back, I place my head on his chest and my arm around his waist. His arm around my shoulder rubs it slowly as we both look out the window and watch the sun come up. I move on top of him this last time, sinking down on him once I put the condom on him. He wraps his one arm around my waist as he sits up. My hands go to his shoulders as I rise and fall; his hands buried in my hair. My lips right on his, and together, we move until we both let go at the same time. We sit in the same position until the alarm on my phone goes off, letting us know that I’m leaving in thirty minutes.
“I need to get packed and shower,” I tell him, sliding off him and walking away. I exhale out of my mouth slowly, my chest heavy with an ache that I’m not sure will go away. I decide not to shower, not wanting to wash his touch away, but I wash my face in the sink. I go back into the room and see he’s not there. I walk to my luggage, folding the clothes that I wore last night. I grab my black leggings and slip them on and toss on a white T-shirt. I tie my hair up on top of my head, then I grab my black sweater out of the bag and put on my black Nikes.
“I made you coffee,” Alex says from the doorway, dressed in shorts, handing me a cup.
“Thank you.” I smile at him, grabbing the coffee. “The girls just got into the Uber, so they should be here in ten minutes.”
“I could have brought you,” he says softly, going to sit on the bed.
“I know,” I say, zipping up the luggage and pulling it up, “but the traffic coming back would be horrible, and you have to work.”
When he nods, I put the coffee down beside the bed and walk over to him, his legs open for me to step between. My hands go to the side of his head. “Alex, I can’t really tell you how amazing this trip was.” I try to keep my voice steady. “It started really rocky, but it ended with a bang.”
He looks up at me, his eyes clouded over with emotion, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t give him a chance when I lean down and kiss his lips. My phone ringing tells me that the girls are downstairs. I let him grab my luggage and roll it to the elevator. He gets in with me, his hand in mine, and we get out in the lobby this time. The doorman nods at him, coming over and grabbing my luggage, and I tell him that I’m with the black car in the front. He takes my bag outside to the car as the driver gets out and pops the trunk.
I turn and bury my face in his chest one last time, breathing him in. His hands go around my waist. “Will you call me when you get home?” he asks me. I want to tell him no, that it will be a bad idea and we should just leave it where it is, but instead, I nod. I force myself to look into his eyes one last time. “Be safe, Chérie,” he says, and I don’t talk. I can’t talk over the lump in my throat.
I kiss his lips one last time and walk out of the door, not looking back. I get into the car, and Kate and Diana just look at me. “Don’t,” I say, and they know. I put my sunglasses on as I watch the street as we drive away from the man who has captured my heart. I don’t stop the tears this time; I just let them fall. “Better to purge them from your system, right?” I look over at Kate and Diana, who have tears for me. Kate throws her arm over my shoulder, pulling me to her.
Everything after is a blur—getting to the airport, checking in, getting our boarding passes, and then walking through security. We walk to the gate, stopping at the little souvenir shop, and I look at the key chains,
grabbing one that has the Eiffel Tower on it. I bring it to the cash register and place it on the counter. “The flight is boarding,” Kate says, coming to me, and I look down at my purse, my eyes stopping when I see Alex’s picture.
I grab the magazine and look at it, the headlines making my heart stop.
Quand le chat n'est pas là, les souris dansent.
When the cat’s away, the mice will play.
The picture in the middle of the page is Alex in the car with a beautiful blonde, her diamond ring glistening in the dark of the night. Then in a small round insert is a picture of me and Alex leaving the club on Saturday. My stomach burns when I read the caption under.
Avec sa fiancée enceinte à Saint-Tropez en vacances, Alex sort avec une mystérieuse femme. With his pregnant fiancée away in Saint Tropez on vacation, Alex steps out with a mystery woman.
“Oh my god,” I hear whispered from behind me. Looking over, I see Kate and Diana holding up the same magazine.
I shake my head, never stopping when they rip it from my hands, and they get beside me, holding me up and almost carrying me to the plane to take me away from the man who not only stole my heart but shattered it.
Chapter Fourteen
Alex
I watch her walk out the door and get into the car without looking back. I stand here for what feels like forever. I should have said something, I think to myself, getting back into the elevator and going back up to the apartment.
I walk back in, going straight for the bed. Lying down on it, I hug her pillow to my chest, turning back to look outside. Through the slightly open door, I see the table that she loved to sit at. My phone rings in the distance, and I just ignore it. I let the memories of last night run through my head like it’s on repeat.
Her smile while she looked around the restaurant, her smile when she sat there taking pictures of all the places they walked to that day. The smile on her face when we left, and then her face when I made love to her. Her smell all around me, I close my eyes, and all I see is her. The tiredness takes over, and I fall asleep.
“Seriously?” I hear shouted at me and then something hits my head. “I can’t fucking believe this.” I open my eyes to see Giselle ranting and pacing in front of the bed.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask her and then see Guy run into the room.
“Holy shit.” He looks at me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I put the pillow to the side and get up, looking at the two of them. “I didn’t really sleep last night.”
Guy looks at me with big eyes. “He doesn’t know.”
I look from him to Giselle, who just stands there now with her arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head.
“I don’t know what?” I ask her, and she shakes her head, pulling out her phone and handing it to me.
I grab her phone and read the caption, and I have to sit down or else I’ll end up on my ass. “I told you that you were being careless,” she says. “I told you that you had no idea what you were doing.”
“How?” I ask them. I was so careful, or at least that is what I’m thinking, but if I look at it, I honestly didn’t give a shit. I just wanted her. My phone rings from my pants last night, and I get up and run to it, seeing it’s my mother.
“Fuck, it’s Mom.” I look at Giselle and send it to voicemail.
“Yeah, ‘cause that will make this all go away,” she says to me. “She saw it,” she says, whispering to me, and I look up, my heart now starting to pound so hard I think it’s going to come out of my chest.
“Who?” I whisper, asking her, and then look at Guy, who just looks down at his feet.
“Who, for fuck’s sake?”
“Meghan,” Giselle whispers, and I think I’m going to faint.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No.”
“Yes. Right before she got on the plane,” Giselle says quietly, and I get up, rushing to the closet to grab clothes. “Where are you going?”
“To Meghan,” I tell her. “I have to tell her the truth.”
“I don’t think she wants to talk to you,” Giselle says. Guy calls her name, and she looks at him. “What?” she says, throwing up her hands in the air. “He needs to know.”
“Know what?” I ask her.
“She won’t talk to you,” she tells me. “She found out when she was buying a Paris key chain, and from what Kate told me, they had to help her on the plane.”
I close my eyes; the pain in my chest comes full force, and I think I’m having a heart attack. I pick up the phone and call Meghan, and it goes straight to voicemail. I send her a text.
Please call me when you land. I can explain.
“I have to get to her,” I tell them. The elevator dings, and when I hear heels clicking on my floor, I look at Giselle, who looks at me with wide eyes.
“Oh parfait mes deux enfants sont là.” Oh good, both my kids in one place. I look over Giselle to see my mother standing there. “Ton père et ta grand-mère sont en route.” Your father and grandmother are on their way up. “Je vais chercher le vin.” I’ll grab the wine.
“It’s noon, Mother,” Giselle says to our mother’s retreating back, then she turns to Guy. “Well, I think now would be a great time to tell them we’re getting married.”
I look at Guy, who looks at me. “Thanks for fucking up. Makes her marrying me an afterthought,” he says, smiling.
We hear the ding of the elevator letting me know someone is here, and then I look up, counting to five when I really should count to ten or twenty. I walk past Giselle and Guy. “Congrats, you two,” I say and then walk into the living room. My mother is sitting on the couch, and she has brought three bottles of wine. My father is bending over and uncorking them, and my grandmother sits in the single chair.
“Mère que voulez-vous du blanc ou du rouge?” Mother, what would you like? White or red? my father asks my grandmother.
“Adalaide.” My mother calls my grandmother by her first name. “Le blanc est ton raisin.” The white is your grape.
“Bien alors,” Well then, she says, “Je vais boire du blanc.” I’ll take the white.
“Okay, if we can speed this family meeting up,” I tell the room. Giselle has come in and goes to kiss my grandmother and then hugs my father. “I have to go.”
My father hands the wine to my grandmother and then looks at me. “Well, you better cancel your plans then.”
“No.” I shake my head, putting my hands on my hips. “Not going to happen.”
He unfastens the button on his suit and sits down. “Alexandre, we’ve gotten about twenty calls today asking for a comment.”
“Tell them you have no comment.” I throw my hand up, and my grandmother laughs.
“It isn’t that easy,” she says and laughs. “You’re France’s most eligible bachelor.”
I roll my eyes. “No, I’m not.”
“Mon petite loup,” My little wolf, my grandmother starts. “Your grandfather had to live in the spotlight as did your own father. It’s been three generations. You don’t have a crown, but you’re royalty, and everyone wants to know who you choose as your princess.”
“Alexandre,” my mother says, “have you seen the papers? Poor Chantal is on her way to take care of Jacqueline.” She looks at me. “She’s a mess.”
“I can imagine, Mother,” I tell her, looking down and not making eye contact with her, “but she’ll be fine.”
“You can’t be serious?” my mother says, and then looks at my father, who also avoids her eye contact. “She is going to have your child.” Her voice gets louder. “Are you going to walk away from your responsibilities as a father for a woman you just met?” Her voice grows a touch louder. “How can you walk away from your child?” She shouts the last word.
“Because it isn’t my child. I’m not the father. She lied to me, to you, to Dad, to her parents, to everyone!” I roar and finally look at her, seeing her shocked expression on her face and then turning to my father, who just nods.
“It’s not my child,” I whisper the words once and then twice. “It’s not my child, Mother.”
She pffts in her chair. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious, Mother,” I say this time, calmly. “I’m not the father. There is no way I could be.”
“He’s right,” Giselle whispers from beside her, and I look at her sitting there quietly with tears running down her cheeks. This time, Guy walks over to her and sits next to her, pulling her into him. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispers to her, but she shakes her head.
“I have to. She needs to know,” she says and turns to my mother “Five months ago, I caught her in bed with Antoine,” Giselle says. “She begged me not to tell Alex, that it was a lapse of her judgment.” She shakes her head. “But the guilt ate away at me.” She takes a deep breath. “Last month, I finally told Alex.”
“So I confronted her,” I cut in. “I stood there in her house and asked her straight out if I was the father.” I shake my head. “She tried to deny it, tried to fight it, but the dates just didn’t add up.”
“Oh my god,” my mother says, putting her hand to her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she begged me not to, asked me to give her time to tell her parents,” I say to her. “I told Father.”
“Chérie,” he says, grabbing her hand and kissing it, the softness in my mother coming out when she looks at him. “We know that you and Chantal are best friends, have been best friends since you were young, so we didn’t know how to tell you this.”
My mother looks down and then looks up with tears running down her face. “She came to see me and told me I was going to be a grandmother.”
“She lied, Mother,” Giselle says. “She’s a master manipulator.” My sister looks down at her own hands and then up. “Just like her mother.”
My grandmother doesn’t say anything; she just puts her glass of wine up and says, “Hear, hear.”
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