Page 10 of It Happened In Paris

Her smile was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile back, the connection between us unexpected. Her determination and exploring spirit echoing in ways with mine that left me momentarily speechless.

How old was she? And was she mine? Before I could think anything more, Vivian rushed out and grabbed her daughter with a mix of urgency and relief.

“There you are, Paris. I turned for one moment to speak with the bartender and then you were gone. You scared me. You need to rest in the office until I finish here. We’re almost done.”

Paris looked up at her mother, her expression a blend of innocence and protest. “But I’m not tired. Besides, I was talking with the nice man.”

Vivian gasped, holding her tighter to her bosom, until she peered around and noticed it was me standing nearby. I smiled and held my hand in a simple wave.

“Oh, Richard. I didn’t see you there,” she said breathlessly. I couldn’t get past the way my name sounded on her lips. She could whisper, moan or scream it and I’d probably never get enough.

“Anyway,ma petite, you shouldn’t run off like that. You know better.” Her voice softened as she placed a hand along Paris’s forehead, as if checking for fever. Her concern was palpable, a mother’s worry that overshadowed everything else.

I stood to attention. “She’s still sick?” I blurted, my words tumbling out before I could stop them.

Vivian paused, her eyes ablaze, meeting mine, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us. “I have an appointment next week before New Year’s with her pediatrician,” she said, smoothing back Paris’s hair with a tenderness that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, trying to mask the mix of emotions that threatened to surface. Concern, admiration, fear—so many feelings out of control inside of me.

She gathered Paris’s things, her focus shifting back to her daughter. “Let’s get you inside,” she murmured, picking her up and wrapping the blanket tighter around her.

“Bye, nice man,” Paris said and waved, her small voice carrying more weight than she probably knew.

At the door, Vivian set her down and shooed her inside, then hesitated. A look shared between us, hers like a protective mother, warning me away.

“She’s lovely. Seems to have a rather adventurous spirit,” I commented and stepped closer. “Reminds me of myself.”

“Yes. I think because she was born in France, it made her naturally curious about the world,” she answered, her face softening.

“How old is she?” I asked, that old gut instinct of mine waking up.

“Six. And I know what you’re thinking. We used protection that night, Richard.” She nodded, as if that should appease me, it didn’t. The timing of it all is a little suspect for me. “I suppose I have you to thank for the new van that was delivered to me yesterday?” She smirked and crossed her arms with the change of subject.

“Consider it a bonus for having to deal with Miriam Buchanan and the wedding planning over the past year,” I explained and stepped even closer. I didn’t bother to add that a company would be arriving the next week to apply gorgeous new decals and lettering to the van to better advertise her Cupcake Cottage.

She glared at me. “I’d prefer to return it. I can take care of things on my own. Where is my old van? I’ll get it fixed eventually.”

“Too late. That old piece of junk is in the scrap yard by now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Damn, the vanilla sweet scent of her wafted in the air. I should run far away, but instead my feet were glued in place.

“At least that junk was mine, bought and paid for through my hard work and meticulous saving.”

“Complain all you want, it won’t change the fact that the new van is yours, Vivian. And it’s also safer to drive your child around in.”

“Humph,” she slammed the door behind her. My head jerked back at first; I doubted anyone had ever dared slam a door onme. But then a sly smile curved my lips. That fierce motherly independence of hers surprising me by how I found it so fucking attractive. I had to quickly adjust myself.

I remained outside longer after they went in, bothered by a vision turning my knuckles white as I held onto the railing staring out at the snow-laden forest. My life flashed forward giving me a glimpse of the future—and many lonely years ahead. That scared the hell out of me.

Once inside, I didn’t spot Vivian again, like she was hiding. I took part in one more toast to my brother and his new wife. Envy tortured me with the future they embraced together.

Miriam and I were among the last to leave, and as we drove away, I caught one more glimpse of Vivian, carrying her daughter in a blanket out to the van.

Miriam noticed, too, and shot me a glance like she could read right through me. Like she had spied that my old dream of having a wife and kids was returning with a vengeance.

“Shall I call the matchmaker?” She asked, her raised eyebrow and voice dripping with smug confidence as if she knew her son well.

I sighed. I should agree to her matchmaking, but I’d hate every minute of it. If it meant I’d finally let go of the past and find someone to love, though, so be it.

5

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