5) Tucker. For everything. Repeatedly.
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After a four-hour nap, I felt revived, my head clearer. I splashed some water on my face, drank a giant bottle of Vittel, and heaved my suitcase on a stand in order to unpack it.
Living out of a suitcase is impossible for me, even if it’s just for a week or so. I can’t stand the way everything gets unfolded and jumbled up inside, and it’s too hard to keep clean and dirty clothes separated. Plus, unpacking and organizing gives me a ridiculous kick. I love it so much that Coco sometimes says I should have been a professional closet organizer, but who wants to spend their career in people’s closets?
I plugged my iPod into the dock on the desk and scrolled to my Paris playlist. As Frank Sinatra crooned April in Paris, I actually hummed along while I unzipped my garment bag and hung dresses, blouses and two skirts. From my suitcase pouches I pulled out sneakers, flats, and two pairs of heels, and set them in the closet. I placed lingerie, pajamas, jeans, tops, and socks in drawers, scowling only once at the sexy black Aubade bra and panties I’d purchased for this trip. They’d cost me roughly the same as a car payment but I’d wanted to surprise Tucker, who appreciated luxury items. Vowing to put them on at least once during the next ten days, even if I just pranced around my hotel room in them by myself, I tucked them in alongside my usual cotton underwear and basic bras.
By the time I pulled my toiletries from my bag and began setting them up in the gorgeous white marble bathroom, my steps were light and bouncey, the way they are when something makes me truly happy.
The last thing I did was take out my guidebooks and set them up on the desk. Coco and Erin hadn’t let me have my iPad back, but they had let me print the daily itineraries I’d created and take a few books with me. I spread them out and stared at them before sweeping them all back into my suitcase and stowing it in the closet. Fuck it, I’m going to wander tonight, like Anneke said. I’m going to change my clothes, walk out the door, and just see where my feet take me.
But first I had to check my outfit calendar to see what I’d planned to wear this evening.
One step at a time, right?
Chapter 3
My first evening alone in Paris started out fine. Since I hadn’t eaten and was getting hungry, I thought about ordering room service but then decided to brave eating alone in a restaurant—something I’d never done before. Wearing a sweet little strapless flowered dress with a denim jacket and flats, I slung my bag over my shoulder with only my wallet, bottle of water, a street map of Paris, and my camera inside. I had no plan whatsoever and surprised myself by adoring the little kick of freedom it gave me.
Heading down Avenue Montaigne with a spring in my step, I gravitated toward the Eiffel Tower, crossing over the Seine on the Pont de l’Alma and trying not to grin like an idiot while I’m crossing over the Seine! ran through my mind. I felt like shouting it. On the other side, I followed the river toward the tower, and even if I’d wanted to hide my smile, I couldn’t do it.
It was just so incredible! The actual Eiffel Tower, right there, huge and monstrous and beautiful, looming above me bigger and bigger as I got closer. No matter how impressive it looks in photographs or movies, nothing compares to actually seeing it in person, watching the sun set behind it. I felt a quick tug of regret that I was seeing it by myself, but only because I knew that later on, no words would ever be enough to describe how gorgeous the light was, how small I felt beneath the arches, how my heart raced when I thought, I’m really in Paris.
I wanted to climb to the top, but my stomach was growling so fiercely that I couldn’t ignore it. Unwilling to spend any more time indoors, I found a sandwich stand, ordered ham and cheese on half a baguette, and ate it as I walked back toward the tower.
When I was done, I took a few pictures from the ground before climbing the seven hundred steps to the second floor and taking a lift up to the top. I exited the elevator wild with anticipation and went straight for the railing. When I looked out, I couldn’t help gasping. The guidebooks hadn’t lied—the view of Paris at twilight was breathtaking. And even if I was on my own in the most romantic city in the world, it was still full of beauty and history and culture. I’d take it all in, as much as I could in one week, and I wouldn’t have to worry about what anyone else wanted to do at any moment. There would be no Tucker to rush me through museums because he doesn’t like art, or roll his eyes at seeing yet another cathedral, or yawn his way through an opera. The entire city was at my feet, and it had plenty to offer. To hell with romance!
Grinning at my new positive attitude, I looked to my left just in time to see a gorgeous young couple take a selfie of themselves kissing with the view behind them. My lips drooped as I turned away.
No, don’t turn away. Their love did not come at the expense of your own.
A few deep breaths later, I was fine. I even smiled at them.
See? You can do this.
To celebrate making peace with my first adventure as an Independent Woman, I went to the champagne bar, ordered a glass, and made a silent toast. To being in Paris, a dream come true.
My throat was still tingling from the bubbles when I heard a gasps and murmurs in the crowd behind me. I turned around and saw a young man down on one knee in front of a beautiful girl, whose fingertips were pressed to her lips. Wide-eyed, I watched as the man took a ring box from his coat pocket and opened it up.
Oh my God. This can’t be happening.
I glugged my champagne, taking in the scene with bug-eyed disbelief. I mean, really? Just when I decided Paris didn’t have to be all about the romance, a proposal takes place ten feet away from me? I couldn’t hear what he said, but I saw her nod happily as he slid the ring on her finger. “Yes!” she cried, and the entire crowd burst into applause and wild cheers as the woman leaned down and kissed her new fiancée.