Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
If I could go back and tell past me what my life would look like in only a few short years, I think Little Autumn would nod and say, ‘Of course it will.’ I wouldn’t have considered that my life would be any less because if it wasn’t what I wanted, I would keep working until it was—to prove to myself, and maybe my mom a little too, that I am good enough.
So the chance to have the best of both worlds—professional and personal—should be an easy decision. But I don’t want to risk everything on something I’m the only one putting meaning into when this has the potential to be catastrophic for me. There’s still a whisper in my ear that Simon could have anyone, anytime he wants to, and at the end of the day, I’m just . . . me. Admittedly awesome, but also on a completely different level of life and experience from Simon, and with considerably more in jeopardy.
Simon glances over to me, his attention torn between me and the road, and then he places his hand over my clasped ones. “I am glad you came. I thought you would enjoy seeing more of Paris, and I am thrilled to be the one to escort such a rare beauty.”
I don’t ask where we’re going, happy to see whatever sights he wants to show me considering you can’t go wrong in Paris. And I don’t touch the flowery compliment, not wanting to dissect it too much lest it wither to nothing.
He drives for a bit, and the whole way, I gawk out the windows to visually feast at every tidbit that we pass. I want to absorb it all, use it as a muse, and create designs inspired by it. Simon turns into a parking garage and carefully parks his car. We get out, and Simon takes my hand as we walk out onto the sidewalk.
In front of a large cast iron gate, Simon asks, “Do you know the Luxembourg Gardens? It’s one of the most beautiful places in Paris.”
“I’ve heard of it and seen photos. It’s like Central Park in New York, a pearl in the middle of the city, right?” I look around, already fully charmed by the greenery and statuary I can see.
We walk along the wide, sandy dirt paths, taking in the sights. There are people everywhere, smiling and chatting, taking advantage of the weather to play tennis and basketball and sit in groups in the green chairs among the paths.
“Would you like to see the Statue of Liberty?” he asks.
I laugh. “I have. In New York. It’s sorta iconic, you know? Give me your poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free . . .”
He places a finger beneath my chin and turns my head gently to the side, pointing with his other hand. “There’s more than one. In fact, there are hundreds of them all over the world. One of the most beautiful is here in the gardens.”
“Seriously?” I exclaim. “I didn’t know that!”
He leads me down a pathway, shrubbery blocking my view as we get closer, and then Lady Liberty rises before me. It’s tiny compared to the original, but touching, nonetheless. I know that seeing the one in the harbor when I first arrived in New York felt like a sign that I’d arrived, that I was going to make it. In a bigger, broader way, it must’ve felt like that for immigrants arriving in America too. A symbol of freedom, of possibilities, of a future. To my surprise, I’m overcome a bit and a tear escapes to roll down my cheek.
“Princesse?”
I swipe at my cheek, feeling silly. “Sorry, it’s . . . the other night, the child in the shanty development? We have places like that in America too, and then there’s this.” I gesture toward the statue here in Paris, but in my mind, I’m seeing the one in New York. “It’s supposed to be welcoming, but . . .”
“It’s complicated?” Simon offers when I trail off, unsure of what I’m trying to say. I nod, feeling like that’s as close to what I’m feeling as I could express.
We keep walking, going past the Medici Fountain, along the paths in front of the palace, and through tree-lined promenades. Each sight is a new marvel. I feel like a tourist, wanting to stop at each new sight and take photos with my cellphone.
But even more amazing than the historical sights are the people. Everywhere I look, there’s inspiration, from the man on a bicycle who’s pedaling along in khakis and a gray shirt to the boys running through the grass chasing a Frisbee in neon brights.
“This is so amazing,” I tell Simon, smiling happily. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He returns my smile, his thumb tracing over my bottom lip. “This is all the appreciation I need.” He bends down, placing a quick kiss to my cheek before whispering in my ear, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”