I hug myself, taking in our surroundings. Everything is flat and white. The contrast with home couldn’t be sharper.
Home.
Turquoise water. Warm sun on my skin. Fruit so ripe, juicy and sweet. That warmth belongs to a different world. In this one, the only warmth I have is the man standing beside me.
“Sapphire, we should check if people need help.”
I glance up. For some reason he’s grinning at the horizon, so I follow his line of sight.
Through the pale haze of dawn, something rises against the skyline. My hand flies to my mouth as the shape becomes clear.
“Is… that…?” I grab Tom’s shoulder, pointing at the pointy structure in the distance.
He smiles at me, threading his fingers through mine before kissing the back of my hand.
“That’s the fucking Eiffel Tower.”
I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were actually in Paris when Tom had whisperedsurprisein my ear. From that point on, excitement took over completely, and I couldn’t wait to explore the city.
But the roads still hadn’t been cleared, and when I saw rescue workers helping an elderly couple out of a car ahead of us, we rushed in to assist.
Me handling frostbite, Tom translating.
I have to admit, we made a pretty good team, reassuring them, keeping them warm and talking until the first ambulances arrived.
I called him my nurse for the rest of the day, and he liked that far more than he let on. I think he knows I go weak for hot, caring nurses.
Once the snowplough passed, Tom drove us to his favourite hotel in Paris.
A whole team of receptionists welcomed us and immediately called their manager down to greet Tom in person. That was the moment it really hit me how famous he is on this continent.
Tom greeted the man like an old friend, put on the full Tom McKenna charm, and asked for his usual suite.
His usual suite.
He dropped it so casually I nearly fainted on the spot.
And the suite… it felt like a dream. Floor-to-ceiling glass, snowy Paris spread out below us. In that moment, I was certain the weekend was going to be our fairytale.
The view took me back to the West House at Heatherfell. It gave me that same sense of standing in front of something bigger than yourself. Only in Paris, the world felt huge and alive, and Tom… he was thriving instead of burning out like a candle.
So what exactly did the city have to offer us? Not your usual Paris trip, but it was perfect.
For starters, we slept. A lot. Especially that first day. After being snowed in for the night, all I wanted was warmth and rest. We took a hot shower, and the second my head hit the pillow, I was out. Tom too.
We woke in the afternoon, still sleepy but starving.
We went to a restaurant Tom swore by whenever he was in the city. The place had that cozy Parisian atmosphere I only knew from the movies. Small tables, candlelight, waiters with… let’s call it sass.
No, who was I kidding. They were just straight-up rude, and we had the best time because of it. Especially once I thickened aNew York accent and Tom used his McKenna charm to walk the line.
We came to the quick conclusion that somehow, the two of us are incapable of behaving like decent people in restaurants. Joan would’ve called it‘so so scandalous.’
We walked back to the hotel and went straight to bed. Though, to be fair, sleeping wasn’t exactly the first thing we did. I lured him into a little roleplay, braided my hair like a real Viking, and told him I was his for the night.
Tom accepted the offer greedily, and by that, the night meant the entire night.
The next day, Tom announced it was time for the real Paris experience. Determination wasn’t the problem. The city simply wasn’t cooperating.
