Meeting Zach for lunch wasn’t high on my list of things to do, but after spending an hour or so with him I’m pleased that Savannah had him to hang out with. This is his last day in Paris and as he told Savannah so, I watched for any sign that I was, in fact, intruding on something between them. There weren’t any, much to my relief. As much as I hate to admit it, there was a nagging feeling inside telling me she wanted to be with him. He’s far worldlier than I am.
And now we stand on a cobblestone path surrounded by Claude Monet’s flowers. We toured the do-not-touch-anything-house and marveled at all his paintings just like the other tourists next to me. I’m a simple guy and honestly don’t get it. He painted some pictures, they’re nice, but to have your house turned into a museum seems to be a bit much. Of course, if this were John Wayne’s house, I’d be happier than a pig in shit. I’m slowly learning that I have to give in order to take from her and right now I’d give her the damn world if it meant she’d come home with me.
Broaching the subject of returning to Texas ain’t going to be an easy one. The timing has to be right and I have to make sure not to ruin anything special she has planned. This is where I wish I had Jeremiah’s courage. He’d blurt it and not worry about the consequences. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t do relationships. He’s not the tiptoe around type of guy. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.
“Aren’t the flowers so pretty?”
The dumbass cowboy in me wants to say they’re nothing but flowers. It’s not like this Monet dude created the flower. He just painted them. And not even the ones we’re looking at since those are long gone. But I can’t. That would be insensitive and I’d probably insult the people around us. So I squeeze her hand and smile. “They’re beautiful.”
Are they? As I look around I see people taking their pictures in front of them, all smiling and happy except this one lady who is standing there looking like she’s about to die. She sneezes, not once or twice, but consecutively for something like ten times in a row. Her face is red, puffy, and she looks irritated. I’m thinking that it’s allergy season for her and this probably isn’t the best place to be.
Savannah and I follow along with the tour guide, who is speaking English but not a version I’ve ever heard before. Every other word is French, or some self made word because he can’t remember the English equivalent. Listening to him makes me realize that if Savannah and I are to be together and she wants to travel, we must visit English-speaking countries because I want to learn about what I’m seeing.
I pay attention when Savannah asks a question and make mental notes to plant flowers around my house. When I start thinking about my house, I start thinking that I could make it a home for her. Put up a fence, build an addition and maybe plant some trees for privacy. The thought of her living across the way at her Aunt and Uncle’s is nice, but I want her with me. She’ll be eighteen soon, she can do whatever she wants. I’m praying that whatever that is, she’s considering having me be a part of it. The five-year age difference is nothing to me now. It’s just a number. Just like the years that kept us apart.
Making her life better is what I want to be able to do for her. Savannah needs a family. She needs to know and feel like people care about her. Her mother took that away from her when they left Texas. The promises of visits never happened, and we were soon missing everything going on in her life. If they had visited, I don’t think she and I would be in Paris right now. Or maybe we would, and I wouldn’t be worrying about how I’m going to convince her to come home with me.
We follow the crowd back to the bus, except we don’t get on it. We didn’t actually pay for the guided tour; we sort of just blended in. And while they’ll get a comfortable ride to their next stop, we’re heading back to Paris on the train. I actually don’t mind. Walking alone, with only Savannah to occupy my mind is perfect.
I never thought I’d want to be in love again after Annamae. Everything that she did gave me pause. Annamae convinced me that I could live both lives: the rancher and the socialite’s husband. Being away from her during the week is what led her to start lying and cheating. Rufus was there, weaseling his way into my role in her life. I should thank him because I have a feeling I would’ve been the one to lie and cheat the moment I laid eyes on Savannah.
I always thought my mom was crazy with her “You’re meant to be with Savannah” talk. This came up every time Annamae would mention marriage. My mom didn’t like her, but she loves Savannah, even if she hasn’t seen her in years.
There’s a field of flowers along our walk and even though it’s probably illegal, I stop and pick one.
“What are you doing?” Savannah looks up and down the road for oncoming vehicles, but can’t
hide her giggle.
“Well, as we’ve been walking and looking at flowers all morning I realized that something has been missing.” I slide the white and pink flower, the kind I have no idea what it is, into her hair just behind her ear.
“What if this is part of Monet’s garden?”
I look around and shrug. “So what? He’s long gone and won’t miss a single flower. Besides, it was screaming at me that it needed to be in your hair.”
“It was, huh?” Her hands fist my shirt as she brings me closer.
“It was. I know it’s not possible, but you’re even more stunning with this little flower in your hair. Your eyes are brighter and your cheeks are pinker.” I want to immediately take back every stupid cheesy thing I just said. That’s not me. I can talk about tractors, hay and horses. I’m not romantic. It’s likely my downfall, but looking at Savannah now tells me I’m wrong. The adoration in her eyes is telling me everything I just said is right.
“Tyler… you make me feel special and wanted.” Her eyes glisten, making me feel like crap.
“Don’t cry.”
“Happy tears, I promise.” Her lips press against mine as images of rolling around in the field behind us tease me of what could be if we were home.
“What’s next on our list?”
“The Eiffel Tower. I want to hold you with the clouds behind us and the lights of the tower illuminating us while we kiss.”
“Then off to the tower we must go!”
Savannah
The sun is setting and I’m on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower again, this time with the man that I love. He’s standing next me, letting the breeze blow through his hair. I take out my phone and snap a quick picture while his eyes are closed. Not only do I plan to look at it repeatedly, but I also want to show him that he once did have fun in a foreign country.
In order to show him I need to be with him. Thinking that in a few short days he’ll be leaving Paris and I’ll still be here isn’t sitting well. I’m here at least until I turn eighteen. I can’t up and leave without an issue. Once I have my birthday, I fully plan to exercise my right of choice by doing something for me. I don’t know what that is at this time though. I love being far away from my mother and my life back in New York. I didn’t fall in love with the ranch, but I fell in love with Tyler. Finding a happy medium is going to be a challenge.
A commotion behind us causes Tyler to turn and stand in front of me. He’s been well versed on how heavy the crime is here, especially in the tourist spots. After he realizes it’s nothing, he turns back, wrapping me in his arms.