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"At this point," he scans the deck, "there's very little left to do. Everything has been done. Look at how the champagne is flowing.” The sound of popping corks fills the upper deck, and clinking glassesmix with laughter of the guests and staff alike.
"This is the moment,” Olivier whispers, more to himself than to me. “Natalie, let’s go this way." He walks toward the back staircase.
"Wouldn't it be better if I stayed out—"
"Come," he says again, his eyes pleading. "I have something to say, something… Please…" He stops mid-sentence, his lips open.
My feet move toward him in spite of myself.
He climbs the staircase to a small landing that overlooks the summit deck. Without a word, he leans against the railing, taking in the city as the last shred of sunlight dips beyond the horizon.
"Paris at dusk," I whisper. "Who knew the city could be even more magical?"
"La nuit tombe,” he says, moving to stand behind me. The air is cool but his breath is warm on my neck. "The falling night.”
That is the perfect way to describe it. The darkness falls into place, the stars overtaking what had once been day. A changing tide.
I sense his hands over my arms. A shiver runs through me, and not from the cool night air.
"It's perfect," I whisper across the city of my dreams, that so captivated my imagination that I had to do everything in my power to get here. "The city is perfect. The night is perfect." I turn and face the man who has consumed my thoughts since I met him. "You are perfect."
Oh no.
I clap my hand over my mouth. How could I say that, like I'm out of a cheesy movie, or a fortune cookie, or one of those stickers my mom slaps on the wall?
Olivier's eyes smile. He’s humoring me.
"I didn't mean that," I add quickly. "I mean, I did, but not really. I mean, if I had been thinking straight, at least I wouldn't have said it out loud. Ugh." I turn and face the city. "Why can’t I just be a classy French lady?" I bite my lips so hard I wonder if it might bleed.
"Hey," Olivier says, turning me back around. "You are definitely not a classy French lady."
"I noticed. Thanks for reminding me."
I blink. Wait a second. I am on top of the Eiffel Tower with the dreamiest man in the country, having made my way here, navigated maddening landlords and irrational fiancées and cooky grandmas…
I may not be a classy French lady, but I’m not doing too shabby.
"I mean," he shakes his head, "Natalie, nobody wants you to be a classy French lady. I certainly don't. All I ever wanted was you. You, as you are. Because you are perfect.” I can hear his heart beating from here. “You're perfect for me."
I'm pretty sure four trucks just drove over me. I hope Olivier didn't notice. Is the romance of the night getting to us, or is this real? After everything that’s happened between us… I have to be sure. “Olivier, this isn’t some kind of a game, is it?"
"No," he says earnestly.
"Because if it is, I really don't think I can take it."
"It's not," he says.
"Do you understand, Olivier? My heart is racing so fast right now, because I can’t tell if what’s between us is the real thing or something I dreamed up while back home in my bed in Texas."
He steps even closer to me."You're not in Texas. You are on top of the Eiffel Tower. And I'm telling you, Natalie, you are everything I didn't know I needed. There is no game, there is no playing around. This is exactly what I've always wanted but I never guessed it would be you."
The music from the deck below floats upward as the light show begins, casting blue, purple and yellow across the Paris sky.
“Je t’aime, Natalie.”
He leans in but waits for me. Giving me a chance to dive in or run. But I already made up my mind. I smile and he smiles back, his lips at once on mine like the world might end. But it’s just the opposite. Everything I dreamed is coming true.
A spotlight catches us for a moment. I'm sure it lingers longer than it should, but I don't care.My man is finally truly mine.
