Page 25 of It Happened In Paris

“Listen, kiddo,” I added with a playful smile, “these new pajamas aren’t just super comfortable—they actually make you braver. Look at all those tigers on them. There’s no way these fierce creatures will let anything bad happen to you.”

I puffed up with pride over having ordered ultra-soft cotton pajamas for Paris. I even made sure the other patients on the floor got pairs of pajamas. With prints ranging from cupcakes to ponies to wild animals and more, the printed PJs were a hit. Paris adored them, and I promised to buy her even more—whatever she needed, despite Vivian’s cautionary glance about spoiling her.

“And you have a pair, too, Mommy. Put them on!” she announced, pointing at the silk pajama set I had laid out for Vivian that morning—a little nudge for her to join us in our pajama day. I was already dressed in mine.

“Yeah,Mommy.You don’t want to miss out on all the fun today," I teased.

She cocked her head at me. "All right then, here I go."

While she slipped away into the bathroom to change, I turned to Paris and offered gentle reassurance.

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart. Everything the doctors and nurses are doing for you is to help you feel better,” I explained.

“But I feel good today. When can I go home?” She whined.

I had worked to make every moment seem like fun here, help her dwell little on all the confusing hospital things around her and big discussions we had with her doctors. Help Vivian, too. I thought it had worked, considering how rarely Paris asked about going home.

“Very soon. I promise,” I assured her, ready to do anything to keep that promise.

Then, out of the blue, she asked, "Richard? Am I going to… Heaven?"

Her question stopped me and stole my breath; she was a child fearing her mortality, confronting a big, scary idea. My eyes flickered toward the bathroom door as I hesitated, unsure if I should answer while holding back a stray tear.

At least Paris now carried my Buchanan blood—we were fighters, and that thought helped keep me grounded.

Fortunately, quick thinking was one of my best skills, honed in business, and it would serve me well in comforting a sick kid. "Not until you’re a hundred years old, at least. Just imagineyourself: old, with gray hair, wrinkled skin, even walking around with a cane. Like this."

I bent over dramatically, mimicking an old man shuffling across the room, which made her giggle.

Then, settling back into my chair, I said, "I know being here in the hospital hasn’t been easy, but you are the bravest little girl I’ve ever met. Just hang in there a little longer, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"And you have to be brave, too," Paris declared, pointing at me with all the seriousness in her watery eyes.

“Oh, I’m very brave. But just in case, these tigers will protect me,” I joked, glancing down at my burgundy silk pajamas adorned with tiger heads, and letting out a snarly roar. Paris burst into laughter. “Come on, let me hear how your tigers roar.”

Soon, Vivian emerged from the bathroom, finding us both roaring away.

“Wow! Look at your mommy in her matching set of pajamas. Doesn’t she look pretty?” I regarded her striking modeling poses with all the affection in my heart.

“Yeah, but you have to roar with us,” Paris shouted.

To her credit, Vivian joined in with a sparkle in her eye and the loudest roar of all. That playful moment quickly turned into a tickle fight between mother and daughter while I stood back, marveling at the bond they shared.

A surge of envy flickered within me that someone like Adrien Bardeaux ever had any place in their lives.

Meanwhile, here I was, nearly a guaranteed match, ready to give my kidney, my money—my heart and soul?—while she still clung to the hope that Adrien would step up and donate.

Dr. Ferguson promised the tests were being expedited and that we’d have an answer soon. I didn’t doubt I’d be the match—or maybe that was just my hopeful ego talking. If I was, Vivianwould have to choose then who would be best for her daughter: Adrien or me?

I predicted the asshole would let her down. But shouldn’t she know the type of man he was by now? The very thought of his kidney becoming a part of Paris made me ill. If he came anywhere near us, I’d need several men to hold me back from tearing him apart.

As the nurses wheeled Paris out of the room, Vivian and I locked eyes, her fear as clear as day.

I gave her my usual reassuring wink—the same signal I always offered whenever the nurses took Paris away for testing, promising that everything would be okay. This time, I reached out and let my knuckles gently brush down along her arm.

A shiver ran through her soft skin as goosebumps formed, and an electric spark passed between us—more intense than anything I’d ever felt with another woman. And this time, she didn’t look away.

“I heard every word in the bathroom, Richard,” she whispered.

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