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CHAPTER23
AUTUMN
As we drive backinto Paris, Simon is smiling. I don’t think he even realizes it, but I’m enjoying seeing the joy radiate from him.
“How’d it go with Tristan?” I ask carefully.
He tilts his head, one way then the other, thinking. “Really well, I think. I punched him in the nose and jaw, and he got me in the kidney with a killer knee.”
I look at him in wide-eyed horror, and then, realizing that he’s kidding, I swat at his shoulder. “You ass!”
He laughs. “I shared some stuff. He shared some stuff. We slapped each other on the back. It was your basic bro emotional breakdown.”
I scan his face, seeing whether he’s serious this time, and it seems he is. “That’s good?”
“Yeah. I’m going to help him figure out some next steps, and I gave him some advice for dealing with some stuff at school.”
The anger from Saturday night is completely gone, and while the possessive fuck in a closet was sexy as hell, I don’t want Simon to feel like we’re ever in jeopardy or I’m in danger.
“I’m proud of you. Handling Tristan with kid gloves couldn’t have been easy.”
Simon shrugs, feigning ease. “So, where to now? What adventure awaits?”
He’s changing the subject, intentionally moving the conversation away from Tristan. Whether it’s because he wants to keep Tristan’s secrets private or doesn’t want the praise, I don’t know. But if he’s satisfied with where the two of them left things and is going to help Tristan moving forward, then I’ll let it go too and not be my nosy self that wants all the details of their conversation.
“I’m up for anything. Take me places and show me things. Show me more of the real Paris!” I say delightedly.
It’s a risk, one I know we’re both taking. Going to the Sun Orphanage was too, but being seen together in public is an entirely different level of danger. We’ve been carefully avoiding it, but today, I desperately want to be ourselves. Simon and Autumn, with no restrictions, no worries, out to proudly celebrate a great donation to the orphanage and the progress Simon made with Tristan.
For such a simple desire, it’s majorly complicated. I choose to pretend otherwise though.
Simon nods and does just that. He finds a parking spot in the heart of Paris, on a side street. “We can explore away from the usual tourist places. Shall we?”
He helps me from the car and offers me his elbow. I take it, feeling quite enamored with his gentlemanliness. And we walk.
We share choux cremes at a little bakery that’s mere blocks away from the Latin Quarter, close enough to have the youthful, energetic vibe, but quiet enough that unless you know what you’re looking for, you’ll never see the small shop with wooden shutters over the windows.
We stop at a little boutique in an alleyway off theChamps-Elysees, where Simon waits patiently while I run my fingers over some of the most luxurious fabrics that grace Paris, oohing and ahhing over every one of them.
But the final stop is along theChampsitself, along a block that sports brand-name stores like Gucci, Fendi, and more. But those stores aren’t where Simon takes me. Instead, he approaches a glass door and presses a buzzer. The glass is frosted over, so I can’t see inside, but the name sounds vaguely familiar.
When the door cracks opens, a man in a black suit looks Simon up and down and then does the same to me. He must see whatever he’s looking for because he opens the door further, inviting us in.
Inside, I stop in my tracks, my eyes open wide. “Holy shit!” I whisper. This feels like the sort of place you need to be quiet... and probably shouldn’t curse, but it’s too late for that now.
Simon chuckles. “Beautiful,non?”
I look around at the U-shape of glass cases, each lit with bright light to show off the sparkly contents. There must be millions of dollars’ worth of jewelry in here.
“What are we doing here?” I whisper again.
“Bonjour! Puis-je vous aider?”a woman says from behind one of the cases. She’s wearing a black silk blouse, a black pencil skirt, a bun high on her head, and red lipstick. She could look like a severe school teacher, but rather, she looks quintessentially and classically French.
“We’d like to look around, if you don’t mind,” Simon answers.
The woman looks Simon and me over much like the man at the door did. I think her reasoning is quite different, though, because she drops her chin deferentially, saying, “Of course. Perhaps something in this area?”
We step to the case she’s indicating to see it’s full of huge solitaire engagement rings and bedazzled wedding bands.
