Page 105 of All Our Nevers

“Don’t,” he says.

“Don’t?”

He shakes his head.

“Why not?” I ask.

“Because I’m taking you to Paris.”

My brows twitch in confusion. “What?”

“Paris, France. For your birthday. I hope you say yes because I already bought the flights and hotels and they are not refundable.”

“Paris… You’re taking me to Paris?”

“I also figured it wouldn’t hurt to get out of Boston for a bit. Give you space from the whole Connor thing. And Guy’s cousin has time to meet you while we’re there, if you want. I already asked him. But mostly I just want to see you visit the city of your dreams.” When I don’t respond right away, he asks, “Is that okay?”

I’m ten thousand feet above the ground. My hands on my face, mouth hanging open, pressure behind my eyes. I let myself collapse backwards and my body lands on the horn, honking it loudly and startling us both until I overcorrect and tumble onto his chest, laughing and breathless.

“Paris…” I reach up, taking his face in my hands. “You’re serious?”

I must look absolutely insane, a manic grin sprawling ear-to-ear, but he looks just as silly with his bright white smile, all teeth. “You seem happy.”

“Owen!” I wrap both arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. Then I push back to look him in the eye. “Oh my God, I have to start packing now. Do we have an itinerary yet? I hope you know I’m gonna change it. Which arrondissement are we staying in? Do you remember the name of—”

“I’ll send you every detail as soon as we get back to my place,” he says, starting to kiss down my neck. “I did some research about what to do, but I figured you’d want to be involved in the planning.”

“Damn right,” I say, twining my fingers into his hair to keep his mouth on my skin. “Wait—what about Archie?”

Owen’s lips never leave my neck as he says, “Nolan.”

I sigh, and it’s joy and disbelief and desire, too. “That dog is gonna be so fat by the time I get home. His vet’s gonna kill me, but at least I’ll die happy.”

“I’m so happy you’re happy.”

“I’m… Paris,” I exhale, pulling back to meet his eyes. “This is the single most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.”

He smiles as he says, “You’re so welcome, gorgeous.”

25

Lia

Owen: Out of all the court transcripts I’ve ever reviewed, all of the legal briefs I’ve written, and all of the merger contracts I have painstakingly analyzed for regulatory minutiae, no document has ever been as detailed as the Paris itinerary you just emailed me.

We have three full days scheduled in Paris, with a travel day on either side. It feels like no time at all to explore the city I’ve dreamt of since getting my first sewing machine at age sixteen, and I plan to make the most of every second.

We’re staying in a five-star hotel. Not an Airbnb. Not a hostel. Not a mat on the floor of someone’s ex’s cousin’s shared loft. A hotel. With room service—champagne and oysters, as much as I want. Pay-per-view movies and soft white comforters and a breakfast concierge that I don’t even take advantage of because I’m desperate to be out on the cobblestone streets as soon as the sun hits the horizon.

The first day goes by in a blur of museums and pastries and wine. Fromageries stacked to the rafters with pungent wheels of cheese; quaint alleys with wire-frame tables for two, older couples enjoying dark mugs of espresso there; manicured parks overflowing with fountains and lovers and the electric hum of inspiration.

And the shops. The brand-name couture of the Champs Elysees, yes. But also the third-generation leatherworker carving custom designs into sepia-toned handbags, the cobbler embroidering golden flowers across silken Mary Janes, the jeweler—all too eager to believe Owen and I are shopping for engagement rings—who naively lets me place twelve different diamonds onto my fourth finger before taking my leave with a polite “J'y réfléchirai.”

I haven’t done much travelling before this. A few weekend trips with our parents when we were kids. One summer our family spent a week in Canada. But this? This is travel.

And Owen is, frankly, the perfect companion. Organized, attentive, punctual (we mutually agreed to arrive at the airport four hours before our flight), and most importantly, willing to cave to my every desire.

Especially today, our second day here, my twenty-eighth birthday.