Page 23 of It Happened In Paris

How in the world did he manage to do this?

It suddenly dawned on me that I had left home without a single packed item, evident by the sweater I’d been in for two days straight. Not even toothbrushes.

I marveled over a basket filled with facial scrubs, moisturizers, dental care, scented bath soaps, and perfume. And not travel sizes—full sized bottles of elegant, expensive brands.

A fresh mix of brightly colored flowers occupied the center of the table. Their aroma battled for dominance with the scent of croissants, jam, and fresh berries loaded on a tray.

“I had my favorite brought in from NYC, probably the closest you’ll get to Parisian croissants,”read Richard’s note on the bakery box. I’d be the judge of that, hoping my appetite returned by morning to try one.

Another basket held cheeses, grapes, a baguette with ham, and a bottle of good red wine. Swiss dark chocolate topped it all off—though I wasn’t hungry enough for more than mere nibbles of anything. Stress sapped my appetite.

Every item was lavish and over the top—but what did I expect from a man with means? His enthusiastic involvement in our lives had come as a complete surprise. I’d end up thanking him for the rest of my life for everything he’d done since this all began.

I could read so much into this, but right now, I didn’t have the energy to analyze his deeds and intentions. My brain shut down, and my body moved as if filled with heavy lead. I practically crawled into the nearest bedroom, where the inviting plush linens beckoned. I sprawled in the center of the bed and closed my eyes, my final thought a quiet prayer for Paris.

10

A SECOND CHANCE?

RICHARD

Hospital accommodations stood farfrom the five-star stays my black card usually afforded. To make matters worse, I spent half the night awake in a back-breaking chair, filled with thoughts of Vivian enjoying the suite and Paris confined to a hospital bed, one question rolling around in my head: Why had these two suddenly upended my life?

With no answers by dawn, the morning found me teetering on a child-sized pink chair while I sipped strong hospital coffee, silently praying the furniture would hold up under my manly frame.

To amuse Paris, I arranged a little breakfast for two in our room, sourcing the pink chairs and petite table from the common area. I replaced the cafeteria tray with real china and invited her to join me for my version of “Breakfast at the Plaza Hotel.”

“Mm. Yummy tea,” Paris commented, sipping from a delicate teacup and even extending her pinky.

A soft chuckle from the doorway startled us—Vivian had arrived. My pulse jetted off; I swept her from head to toe and back again, and I could tell by her refreshed smile the night at the suite did her good. Dressed in the clothes I’d picked out forher, a surge of satisfaction powered through my veins, knowing I was making a difference in her mental and physical state.

Had it been anyone else, I’d likely have thrown money at their problems, wished them well, and moved on. But this was different. Vivian and I shared an intimate past, and Paris was an adorable child. Their sudden arrival had thrown my life into a tailspin—I couldn’t walk away.

“Mommy!” Paris exclaimed, arms stretched wide as soon as she saw her.

Vivian knelt and embraced her daughter tightly, inhaling her scent. “I missed you, baby. I wanted to be here before you woke up. Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay. We saved you some blueberry muffins and fruit.” Paris gestured around the table.

“Here, take my seat. There’s even coffee.” I stood, pulling my chair out for her and leaning in to whisper, “I hope your time in the suite was exactly what you needed.”

“It was,” she replied with a grateful smile. “And now it’s your turn.”

“Mommy, look—I have coffee, too,” Paris said, proudly holding up her teacup before taking a sip.

“It’s mostly milk.” I winked, assuringly.

Vivian glanced around the room while reaching for a muffin, raising her brows at the new additions taped to the wall, a variety of maps and photos. “Where did all of this come from?”

“Guilty. My assistant couriered everything over early this morning,” I admitted.

“Oh? You have an assistant? Now I know the secret behind all of these surprises. I suppose one call from you and they do your bidding?” She cast a sly grin at me.

“Actually I have several people in my employ, and yes, when I say ‘jump’, they don’t hesitate.” I grinned at her with all the bravado of my CEO status.

“We’re planning a trip around the world, Mommy,” Paris declared excitedly.

“A trip? Wow. That—that’s amazing,” Vivian said, her grin dropping, eyeing me with a hint of suspicion.

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