Page 27 of Host for the Holidays
He looks up at me and smiles. “Good morning.” There’s something about that smile of his, and it’s not just that it’s handsome. It’s warm and friendly and just a great thing to see first thing in the morning.
I feel slightly self-conscious in my Christmas long-john-style PJs given how put together he looks, but it’s cool. I ain’t trippin’. See how cool I am?
“I have to leave soon,” he says, “but what would you like to see later today?”
I take a seat across from him. “Listen, Rémy. Youreallydon’t need to take me anywhere. You are not my personal concierge. I’m sure you have other things you’d like to do in the precious hours outside of work.”
“Actually,” he says, setting down his fork, “I had an idea . . .”
My brow quirks up. I’m listening.
“When you first got here, you asked for a city guide.”
I wave away the words. “Yeah, but that was just because Siena told me there’d be one.”
“And I think thereshouldbe. André really wants this place to be successful, and providing some tips for travelers would be smart, especially if that’s what other Airbnbs are doing.”
“I mean, it certainly couldn’thurt.” I don’t want Rémy to feel bad there’s not a city guide, especially when he’s gone out of his way to help me. This hosting is just a favor for a friend, too, so it’s not even his responsibility.
I’m also not quite sure what exactly his idea is or how it relates to me.
“I’ve lived in Paris my whole life,” he says, “which means I’ve never seen it as a tourist. I don’t really know what interests you guys most.”
I laugh because he says it like tourists are some alien species. I put on my best Valley-girl imitation. “Insta-worthy photo locations. Duh!”
He looks torn between horror and laughter.
“So you want me to be your tourist goggles?” I touch my thumbs to my pointer fingers, turn them upside down and put them up against my face. Jack and I used to make ourselves into Batman and Catwoman like this as kids.
“I don’t know,” he says warily. “Does it require you walking around Paris like that?”
I nod, keeping my hands in place.
“No less embarrassing than some of the things tourists do,” he says, obviously trying to push my buttons.
I drop my Batman mask. “Hey, your city relies on us, mister! Admit it. You’d miss us if we all left.”
He raises his brows.
I meet his expression with my own that says,You better believe it.Inside, though, I’m reviewing his idea. He wants me to help him make this guide, which would entail seeing the city together.
It honestly sounds like a ton of fun—going around Paris and finding the best spots. My main hesitation is Josh, which is ironic, given that Josh was the one who suggested this.
So what’s keeping me from saying yes? Quite literally nothing.
“Despite all the shade you’re throwing at me and my peeps,” I say, “yes, I will help you. I will be your tourist lens, no pun intended. Oh! We could even include that as part of the guide—most Insta-worthy spots in Paris.”
I can actuallyhearhim roll his eyes.
“What?” I say. “I don’t make the tourist rules, but if you’re going to be in the business of hosting tourists and doing it well, you have to cater to them.”
He sighs, a little smile playing on his lips, which tells me his reluctance is at least partially teasing.
“It’s really nice of you to do all this for André,” I say. If Siena knew that Rémy was doing all of this out of the goodness of his heart, she’d be singing a different tune about the things he’s done for me. He’s just the kind of guy who goes out of his way to help people. It has nothing to do with me.
“I promised him I would,” Rémy says, sitting back now that he’s done eating. “He’s going through a lot with his mom’s illness, and he had a lot more planned before your arrival that didn’t happen because of that. When he comes back, I want everything to be just right.”
I look around, curious what André had planned and what would be different if he’d had time to do it all. While I wouldn’t complain about a few updates to the place and a few more cups, plates, and utensils, I wouldn’t trade those things if it also meant trading Rémy as my host. Arriving in Paris was hard enough as it was; without Rémy, I might have caught a taxi right back to the airport, my spirit broken by the City of Love.
