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“Paris?” I asked carefully, sitting up in my tight dress.
“We’re going to Paris?”
“If that’s okay with you?” he asked, suddenly nervous.
“Yes, my God, yes!”
I threw myself into his arms, kissing his face.
“I thought we could stay near the Eiffel Tower and of course, in Montmartre, which in French, apparently means little mountain.”
“You’re kidding?!”
I couldn’t believe we were going to Paris.
“I thought maybe you’d like to have some real Crêpe Suzettes?” He winked at me, and I knew all that talking about climbing mountains and hiking up Everest had been a ruse. It was about Paris all along. “You did say French cuisine was for special occasions? I’d say our honeymoon was that, don’t you?”
“You little devil!”
He laughed, delighted at my reaction, and clearly relieved that his plan had worked.
“But what about my passport and visas?”
“All sorted.”
I couldn’t believe my luck.
“When are we leaving?”
He looked at his watch. “One hour? A car is coming for us and taking us straight to the airport.”
“The airport,” I breathed excited.
“I got us a private jet to fly in. I mean, we don’t want to spend our wedding night amongst strangers, do we?”
“Oh no,” I laughed. “That wouldn’t be right at all.”
But Will, he was Mr. Right, after all.
As the fortune teller had predicted, I had found my true love and there were mountains in our story. We may not have been on a mountain or even near actual mountains but at least I didn’t have to suffer through hours of agonizing climbing to find him. Instead, I could savor red wine and eat French bread at a café in an area named after a little mountain looking at the metal peak of the Eiffel Tower. I preferred this mountain love story of ours any day.
If this was our honeymoon, to what great heights would we soar in our married life?
I literally could not wait to see and find out.
*****
THE END
