Page 52 of Blue Eyes & Paris Vibes

Reed promised me a day of adventure, which started with him renting a vintage car. I really wanted to tell him off for making me sit in a car again, after spending a good part of yesterday flat on my ass in one, but my mouth practically snapped close when I saw it.

I’m not sure what model it was, because I couldn’t give less of a fuck about cars as long as they drive and the air conditioning works, but I know it was a sunny day, and Reed had rented a cabriolet that looked like it was straight out of a romantic as hell black-and-white movie.

All I could think about was how glad I was thathewas driving. Because knowing myself, once behind the wheel, I’d have been so nervous I’d probably have dinged another car just getting out of the parking lot. This car is much too beautiful, and expensive, for me to drive it just to return it with scratches all over the perfect, shiny finish.

But Reed? He handled it with ease, without a care in the world, probably because he’s rich and could probably buy the car if he felt like it, with his hand on my thigh unless he had to switch gears, and the wind in our hair.

Combing all the knots out of my hair was a bitch, it’s a sacrifice I’d make again, anytime, if it meant he’d drive me through small French towns with a that wide smile on his face, reveling in the way everyone looked at us.

The best thing is, I know it’s not just because of the car. It’s because helikesbeing seen with me. Ever since we made it official with an Instagram post, he doesn’t leave out any chance to show our relationship off, like I’m some kind of catch he can make the rest of the world jealous with.

Thankfully, it didn’t turn into a scandal. His brother, Adam, pulled a few strings and made sure of that. Though sometimes I catch his fans shooting me dirty looks, but I can deal with that.

Once we returned, Reed grabbed a basket from reception and pulled me toward one of the electric golf carts the hotel provides for exploring the grounds.

"This is so crazy," I whispered under my breath, over and over, as he drove carefully through tight curves, after taking one at such speed it almost catapulted us out of the gold cart.

We drove past meticulously cut bushes, shaped like labyrinths, trees trimmed to perfection, fountains that looked like works of art and I kept on glancing over my shoulders at the Palace of Versailles itself in the distance, looming over gardens that seemed to go on forever.

We can see the castle from our room, but every new angle absolutely wows me.

"Of course it is," Reed chuckled. "I mean, royalty lived here."

We had a lovely picnic by a canal, watching from the shadows as other couples paddled boats, hiding from the sun under cute umbrellas.

"This is so over-the-top," I grinned as he offered me another snack.

"Well, you deserve over-the-top for tolerating me for a year," he said with a wink. “And hopefully many more.

We took our time heading back, wandering off the main path and letting ourselves get a little lost in the garden. At one point, we stopped to watch a fountain show where the statues seemed realistic enough, the water leaping and spinning in perfect rhythm with music drifting from hidden speakers. It felt like the gardens themselves had come to life for just a moment.

And now we're here, inside Versailles, with no one else in sight aside from our guide.

"Just enjoy it," Reed whispers, his arm snug around my waist as the guide gives us our private tour.

I’m not usually into over-the-top fancy stuff, and Reed knows that. But moments like this, tour buses lined up outside, crowds waiting for some kind of evening garden show, make me quietly grateful to have a boyfriend with money.

Not that I need it. I’d wait out in the heat for hours if Reed was by my side. But if I get to choose? I’m picking the comfortable option every time.

We walk through fancy hallways, steps echoing off polished marble, past rooms that once housed kings and queens. There’s even a little chapel, that we only got to peek at. Then we step into a room that makes me freeze.

"Is that-?" I gasp, eyes darting to Reed, just as his lips stretch into a wide grin.

"Yes," he confirms. "That’s a painting of Napoleon getting crowned in Notre-Dame. A replica of the one we saw in the Louvre."

He pulls me to the center of it, arms wrapping around me, chin resting on my shoulder as we stand there and stare at it.

"It really looks the same," I whisper, scanning the intricate details. "Has anyone ever put them side by side for a ‘spot the difference’ game?"

"I doubt they’d find many," he murmurs, kissing my cheek. “I think the most you’ll catch are some slightly off expressions.”

It’s hard to tear myself away from the painting, eyes darting over the same intricate details as two years ago, memories of our Louvre date flashing through my mind as he tightens his hold around me for just a moment.

Each room we see gets more stunning. The intricate wallpapers that look hand-drawn, the details carved into the picture frames and sculptures. They’re scattered everywhere, much like paintings of royalty and sceneries, even the ceilings. I don’t even know where to look first, the amount of art and pompousness almost overwhelming.

"And now," the guide finally says as we approach the last room, pride in his voice, "welcome to the Hall of Mirrors."

He opens the heavy door, and I gasp, my eyes growing wider with every step.

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