Unexpected Arrivals(63)
“Parisian.”
“Huh?”
“You called me a parasite…like a fungus. The term is Parisian.” The giggle she let escape turned into a full-blown laugh that caused her cheeks to warm and her eyes to water.
“I’m an idiot. I knew that.”
“For real, what are we doing? We aren’t going to have fountains sprayed up our butts. And the list of questions I have about bidets couldn’t possibly be answered in twenty-four hours. We should save that for another trip.”
“When you’re done eating, we’ll get dressed and go find out.”
Eager to see what I had planned, she finished her coffee and waffle in record time. She popped a kiss on my mouth after she stood from the table, and I wrapped my arm around her waist to bring her to me. “I’m right behind you.”
The week had been perfect, and today would make or break us. I needed to either move forward or move on—her answer this afternoon would determine which direction I went at the crossroad before me. I could only pray our paths were the same.
“Are we on a timetable?”
“Not really, we have reservations at eight thirty tonight. Nothing’s set in stone prior. Why?”
I stood and gathered the plates from the table, but before I could get more than a couple steps away, she latched onto the waistband of my shorts and pulled me back to her. “I want to take our time getting cleaned up.” Her expression hinted at mischief, yet when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, it turned erotic.
The dishes could wait.
“Lead the way.” I didn’t care where she took me or what she had in mind—I’d follow…even if I hadn’t expected it to be a sensual shower together. My willpower was waning. Every touch of her skin against mine left me weak, and my resolve not to fuse our bodies into one neared failure.
Cora was wanton, and I was the last guy in the world who should try to refuse her. I managed to escape the shower without penetration or making her feel rejected. She’d played along with my unwillingness to consume her, even though it was evident she was growing leery.
It took monumental effort not to strip off the tight skinny jeans she’d just slathered over her legs and have my way with her. Instead, I forced myself to face a wall while the two of us finished dressing.
“You ready?” Eager to get this show on the road, my excitement came out like a prepubescent boy.
She giggled and eased up on her tiptoes to kiss my lips with a smile. “Been ready.”
Hannah wouldn’t spill the beans, but that one comment and the way she’d said those two words made me wonder if she had some premonition of what today would hold. I hoped to keep it a surprise. Although, if her radiant joy came from knowing what I had planned, I had to admit that put a huge puff of wind in my sail. I wasn’t ready to beat my chest, but God, I prayed I was in full-on caveman mode by eight thirty tonight.
With the ring uncomfortably in my pocket, I took Cora’s hand and led her out the door and into the last December day of the year. The sun shined so brightly it created a halo around everything in the distance, and the warmth it offered was unseasonable yet welcomed. There was no breeze or bite to the Paris air, and the birds sang happily as traffic eased by at what seemed an unusually slow pace. I chose to believe Mother Nature had orchestrated a perfect day and the world was in cahoots with her, but instead of thinking beyond the sounds of silence, I opted to enjoy the company of the woman at my side.
“You going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Down the road a piece.”
We walked in relative silence other than the few things Cora pointed out along the way or the architecture she couldn’t resist. I knew long ago that my ability to enjoy Cora’s company without words or something to occupy us was a connection I’d never shared with anyone else. Simply being next to her was enough.
As we approached the Pont des Arts, Cora squeezed my hand. I wished we’d made this trip before the city quit allowing lovers to add locks, but she’d understand the meaning and why I’d chosen this particular location to drop to one knee. It wouldn’t matter that we couldn’t put our own lock on the ironwork, the sentiment would remain.
“Up until a couple years ago, we could have had a padlock on the bridge.” The comment managed to come out as smoothly as I’d hoped…by the grace of God.
“I’ve read a little about it. The weight threatened the integrity of the bridge.” She turned to look up at me, still holding my hand. “Somehow, it’s like we have one here anyhow. All I feel is love and romance. Silly, huh?”
We weren’t where I’d intended to be on the bridge, and the water wasn’t as visible from this location as I’d hoped, but Cora had stopped here, and I took that as my cue. I said a quick prayer while I stared into her emerald eyes, and without dropping her hand, dug the black box from my pocket and took a knee.
If she was aware I was going to propose, I couldn’t tell. Her free hand touched her lips in shock, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Cora didn’t pull away or tell me no. She didn’t look around to see who might bear witness to my request. She honed in on my eyes and refused to let go.
“I had planned to ask you this two years ago, but think maybe you were right. Maybe we both needed to explore who we were to establish who we’re meant to be. There has never been a question in my mind of whether or not you were meant to be in my life; I’ve known since that day in the cafeteria when we were seventeen that there would never be anyone else.”