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When they talk back home about French kissing, they have no idea. This right here—Olivier and me on top of the Eiffel Tower—this is the real French kiss.
"Should we go back down?" he whispers into my ear.
"Not yet,” I say, and throw my arms around his neck.
* * *
Epilogue - Olivier
Eight months later
My stomach is tied up in knots.
It doesn't matter that several months have gone by since everything changed on top of the Eiffel Tower, when I think of Natalie, everything inside me goes aflutter. I should probably have it more together than this, act cool and suave when she arrives.
Instead I’ve been pacing on the gravel for so long that I'm wearing a hole into it.
But with Natalie, I don't care about whether I look cool or debonair or like I have it all together. With her, I can finally just be me.
An engine rumbles in the distance. It must be her, it has to be. It feels like I've been waiting for hours, even though she's not scheduled to arrive for another fifteen minutes.I can't wait any longer.
"Relax," Grandmama says in her American accent, as she stands in the door mocking me. She has to lean more heavily on the cane than she would like, but we're all just thankful she's mobile again.
Thankful for her, and thankful for us.
It's unmistakable now, the sound of wheels winding along the laneway. Natalie should be here any second. I turn and cross my arms, but that feels a little too formal. I set them on my hips, but that doesn't look inviting. I drop my arms at my sides, all the while hearing Grandmama chuckling behind me.
"Ah, l'amour," she sighs, before retreating back into the house.
Why is Marcial slowing down? He’s only halfway down the driveway. It's like he's trying to draw out the torture as long as possible, even to the very last second. I start walking in the direction of the car, and then I understand why he has slowed. The back door to the car is open, and if I'm not mistaken…
"Natalie!" I shout. "What are you doing?"
She's halfway out of the car when Marcial promptly hits the brakes, and she hops out, running in my direction.
"He said he couldn't go faster because of the gravel, but I can't wait!" She leaps, arriving in my arms, and I swing her around the way I did back in the garden.
At last my arms are full of her, the way they are supposed to be.
"Mon amour," I whisper into her ear. "You have been away too long."
I set her down and she pokes me in the chest.
"Actually, it's you who's been away too long. Sebastien and I have been holding down the fort at the restaurant, while you've been living it up at the country house." She leans in close and pecks me on the lips. "Exactly the way you should, my darling."
I've had to spend the last week at the country house because Grandmama wanted to propose an idea, a new project, thus far a secret from the rest of the family.
Dinner tonight will be the big reveal, and we’ve called everyone together, including Simone at Grandmama’s insistence.
I haven't seen Simone since the day we officially put an end to our unofficial engagement, but the little correspondence we’ve had has been civil.
Speak of the devil herself, Simone’s Fiat turns down the laneway. Natalie turns and takes my hand, holding it tightly.
"It's going to be fine," I say to her, but not quite as confidently as I would like, and Natalie knows it.
"Should I brace myself?" she says.
Simone steps out of her car. And so does a man. I hadn't noticed that there was a male companion with her. The two approach us, arm in arm, with smiles as wide as the Arc de Triomphe. Natalie raises an eyebrow at me, a cheeky grin on her face.
