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She was biting her lip, looking thoroughly confused. It was kind of adorable seeing Polly off-kilter.
‘I spent the last two years here in Paris,’ he said, walking over to the window and looking out at the spectacular view.
It was like seeing the city for the first time, seeing it through her eyes. Golden, exciting, full of possibilities.
‘I know, you were working at Desmoulins.’
‘I had an apartment not far from here. I got up, jogged to work, worked, ate out, met friends, worked out. All in Paris.’
He took a step out onto the balcony and breathed in the city air. Car fumes, cooking smells, the river. It had always choked him before but today it was welcome. Felt fresher somehow.
Polly stood in the room for a moment and then came out to join him, looking around her in awe. ‘It’s even more beautiful than I thought it would be. It must have been hard to leave.’
Gabe shrugged. ‘Not really. It was just a place. A place to climb up the ladder a little further. It didn’t mean more to me than New York or San Francisco.’
‘Oh.’
‘I was hoping that if I came back to Paris with you, if I walked the streets with you, then that might change.
‘I was hoping it would become magical.’
The words hung there. Anxiously Gabe scanned her face but he couldn’t read her expression.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said finally. ‘Is this a test? If I don’t feel the pea through twenty mattresses I’m not a princess and we’re not worth fighting for? Is that what you mean?’
‘Non.’ She hadn’t understood. His heart speeded up; he could feel it thumping through his chest. ‘Polly, you told me to go and like a coward, like a fool, I went.’
He grimaced. ‘I told myself it was for the best, that I was doing it for you. But I don’t think it can be for the best. I don’t think anyone can feel the way I feel about you, love you the way I love you, and not be with you.’
He’d said it. Surely the sun should burn a little brighter, the birds sing louder. Some acknowledgement somewhere that he had finally cracked open his shell.
‘I don’t understand.’ She turned to him, eyes huge and clouded with an emotion he couldn’t identify. ‘What about the meeting?’
Damn the meeting. What about his words? He’d rushed in, confused her. ‘It’s not until Monday. I asked Rachel to get you here early so we could have the weekend. The weekend for you to try and see the magic, see if I’m worthy.’ He swallowed. Had he misjudged so badly?
‘If you want to, that is. Your ticket will let you return today if you would rather, or you can have the room on your own. It’s paid for, it’s yours...’
He paused, waiting, heart thudding as the seconds passed.
Her voice was small. ‘You arranged all this?’
‘Oui. For you. Although,’ he added fairly, ‘Rachel helped.’
Her mouth turned up. A smile. It was like a medal awarding him hope. ‘I had no idea. I guess she can be discreet after all.’
‘I tried to plan it all. I looked up all the romantic things to do in Paris but they all seem to involve champagne or cocktails, which is no fun for you. And I thought, if we need a list to find the magic then something is wrong. So I tried again.’
‘You did?’ She took a step closer, the tilt on her mouth more pronounced, a gleam of hope in her eyes.
‘I thought, what would Polly like? And I knew.’ At least, he hoped he knew. ‘Old Paris. Shopping at all the best vintage and antique shops, strolling around Montmartre paying our respects to the artists of the past. The Catacombs.’
It wasn’t too exhaustive an itinerary, not for three days. Organised enough for Polly to have a sense of purpose, fluid enough for some spontaneity.
Her mouth trembled. ‘What if there isn’t any?’
‘Any what?’
Her eyes closed briefly, the long lashes sweeping down.
‘Any magic?’
Gabe’s heart thudded, audibly, painfully. ‘Polly,’ he said, taking her hands in his. ‘For me there is magic wherever you are. I don’t need a walk around old streets to prove that. I can’t wait to show Paris to you, can’t wait to see you buy out the vintage shops or discover a new café with you, but I don’t need to do these things. I just want to do them for you. With you.’
Her hands folded around his. ‘Really?’ she whispered. ‘What about next week, next month, next year?’
He tightened his hold, drawing a caressing finger along her hands. ‘I can’t tell you I’m not afraid,’ he said honestly. ‘Your life is changing so quickly and if we do this, mine will too. I didn’t want to cause my parents more pain. The thought of putting you through that...’ He inhaled, a deep painful breath.
