“What makes you think she’ll come back with you, boy?”
Boy. Not son. Not Tyler, but boy. The overprotective side of him is showing in spades. It’s fine. He can be like that, but I’m an adult and Savannah will be one soon. Once she’s eighteen her mother can’t tell her what do anymore.
“I don’t, but I want to try.”
“You gonna make an honest woman out of her?”
“Bobby,” Sue scolds, but he’s right and he also just showed his h
and. Savannah and I kept our relationship a secret. The only two who knew were Aunt Sue and Jeremiah. Neither of them would’ve sold us out, especially Jeremiah. He may be a gossip, but only when it’s for his benefit. Getting me fired, or having Savannah sent away wouldn’t aid him in any way. For the life of me I couldn’t understand why her mother suddenly had a change of heart about her being here and would send her off to Paris early out of the blue. It’s all starting to make sense now – Uncle Bobby knew about Savannah and I and mentioned us when her mother called.
“He’s right, Aunt Sue,” I reply before turning my attention back to Uncle Bobby. “I imagine in your day, you courted Aunt Sue with the purest intentions. Unfortunately, times have changed and while that is no excuse, Savannah was happy here. Yes, she was looking forward to Paris, but I had a feeling she was going to stay.”
“She didn’t though,” Bobby says, pointing out the obvious since she’s not sitting at the table with us now.
“No, she wasn’t given a choice.”
“You plan to give her a choice?” his voice is booming and authoritative. I’ve never really seen this side of Bobby before and honestly it scares me a bit. He’s giving new meaning to shaking in my boots.
“Of course I do. It’s not like I’m going to go over there and drag her back, kicking and screaming.”
Sue puts her hand on Bobby’s wrist to get his attention.
“Bobby, he’s not asking for your permission, he’s asking for our help. We need to give it to him.” She’s right. I do need their help. I don’t know how to get a passport, not that I’m expecting either of them to, but Sue will know someone who knows someone. That’s how small towns work.
I love Bobby, but the overbearing uncle attitude needs to go. She’s almost an adult and can make her own decisions. If I get there and she’s happy, fine. I’ll leave, but not after I’ve had my say.
“Thanks, Aunt Sue.” I get up and give her a kiss on the cheek. I feel her smile and hope that if Savannah and I are lucky enough to be together in the future, she’s soft and gentle like her aunt... although her aunt is really one in a million.
Savannah
Zach and I walk back to his hostel together under a cloud of darkness. We’re side by side but there is enough distance between us that everything is casual. He offered to walk me home, but I’m still a city girl through and through and know that it’s dangerous to let a stranger know where you live. Besides, if he’s in the right place at the right time, he’ll see me coming out the door. Definite drawback to living on the Champs de Elysees: You can’t hide from the tourists and according to Zach’s schedule he’ll be on my street in three days.
He complained, but I wouldn’t budge. I’m not the kind of girl who tells a guy she just met at the Eiffel Tower where she lives. In my romance novel, it sounds great. In the crime report, it’s an act of stupidity.
We stayed on the second floor of the tower, exploring each side of Paris together. It’s nice that he lives by the same map I do, although I wish it were a year from now and I were meeting him, or someone similar, so I could be a proper host. It makes me wonder if Tyler will visit, or if the only time I’ll see him again is if I go back to Texas. I’m not sure I can. I’ve wanted Paris for so long I feel as if I have to make it work.
I haven’t really enjoyed being here before as I much as I have today. It was good to laugh and even cry a little at some of the jokes Zach was telling. But each emotion brought back a memory of Tyler and I often found myself comparing him to Zach. Would Tyler let me drag him around from museum to museum? Would he want to walk along the Seine and over the aptly named Love Locks Bridge and see the few padlocks that remain? Or would he only want to spend his time here out in the country, looking at the vast green pastures and learning how people farm here?
Tyler is a wild horse in my life or maybe I’m the free spirit that can’t be tamed in his. I know he’d be there for me, but I’m not sure our lifestyles can blend. After seeing the lights of Paris for this past month, watching the people as they rush from place to place, and listening to the cars at night – the city is what I love. It tells a story, the people are its chapters. The country is nice for a break, but I’m not sure it’ll ever measure up to what I’m seeing now.
By the time we reach the third floor the sun has set and just like every other night in Paris, wedding proposals are being made. People clap, cheer and offer well wishes to the soon-to-be betrothed. Zach and I make it a game. Walking around pointing at which couple we think will be next. It’s very hit or miss, but an overall enjoyment for our evening. Of course we get more wrong than right, but we aren’t really counting.
Zach thanks me when we stop at the hostel. It’s that awkward we-just-met-should-I-give-you-a-hug-or-give-you-my-number moment. He opts for the hug, pulling me into his muscular arms, which only serve to remind me of Tyler. I should call him when I get home, but that means stopping at the corner store and buying a phone card. And the fact that I’m making up excuses or reasons why we shouldn’t talk is stupid and a complete eye opener. If he wanted to be with me, he would’ve asked me to stay, right? I pat Zach on the back and he lets go. “Are you sure you’re okay to walk home? I’m having a hard time letting you go on your own. It’s dangerous out there.”
I look up and down the street and shrug. “I’ll be fine.”
He nods, but the frown he has doesn’t dissipate. “Here’s my number,” he says as he pulls my hand out and writes it on my forearm. Smart, this way the sweat on my palms won’t make the ink wash off.
I agree and tell him that I’ll see him bright and early for our countryside train ride. The novel that I was planning on reading tomorrow will just have to wait.
“It was very nice meeting you Zach.” I walk away before he can say anything and I definitely don’t turn around to see if he’s watching me. It’s killing me not to, but it’s far too soon for anything like that, plus my head is in a fog. If anything, Zach will be a fun companion until his journey is over and he’s back doing whatever it is that he does.
As soon as I’m home with the doors locked, I pull out my phone and text him. The conversation bubble pops up immediately. I can’t help but smile at the thought that he was waiting for me. Either that or he was texting his friends back home and I just interrupted. Regardless, he tells me good night and that he’s excited for tomorrow.
That makes two of us.
I stop at the café on the corner and order the same thing I do every day, black coffee with milk and sugar... a lot of sugar. Each time I order it, the barista gives me a strange look. It’s almost as if they’re confused on how to just pour a cup of coffee and simply add milk and sugar instead of adding nine other things to it. As soon as the hot paper cup is in my hand, I’m out the door and heading toward Zach’s hostel. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but everyone in Paris is and I don’t want to stand out. I even sit and drink it out of tiny cups with my pinky in the air. It’s something everyone should do when they’re in Paris.