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Hethrew more water on his face and patted the moisture off with a towel.Heavoided meeting his own gaze in the mirror.
Atdinner,Jesstalked excitedly about the antique market she wanted to visit inParistomorrow afternoon.Shewas keen to add to her collection of tacky cookie jars.
Hereally hated those cookie jars.Someof them gave him the creeps, especially one in particular: a 1950s chef with rosy cheeks, a rotund belly, and a self-satisfied grin.Helooked like he had eaten both all the pies and all the children.
Scanningthe tasteful, uncluttered decor of his flat, he wondered where they’d put both her teddy bear and her cookie jar collections when she moved in.
Krishshivered.
‘Youokay?’Jessasked.
‘Fine!Just…a chill.’
‘Someonemust have walked over your grave.’
‘Huh?’Thatsounded ominous.
‘That’swhat my grandma used to say when somebody shivered like that.’
‘Oh.’
‘Anyway, after the antiques market…’Jesswent on to list more things she wanted to do inParis.Itwas her first time, and she was understandably excited.Hehad wanted to go toMorocco, where he’d never been with any previous partners.Hehad a romantic idea of proposing in theAtlasMountains, or maybe in a hot air balloon over the desert, butJesswanted to visitParisfor their anniversary.Shedidn’t like exotic travel as much as he did.
NotthatMoroccoreally qualified as ‘exotic’ in his book.Whenhe’d first metJess, she’d never even been outside theUK.Theirdiscussions about holiday destinations involved a lot of compromise, mostly on his part.Shevetoed his idea of theVietnamcycling tour and theIncaTrailexpedition.Instead, they went toBrugesandFlorence.Greatplaces, but he loved more adventurous destinations.Maybehe could talk her around one day.
Jesssaid, ‘I’veheard amazing things about theTuileriesGarden.Haveyou been?’
Yes.WithFrancesca.
Herecalled sitting by the pond in the garden overlooked by the ornate palace, watching children race their boats on the water.Alittle girl was having trouble reaching her sailboat with the stick she’d been given, her arms just a tad too short.Krishhad helped her retrieve it.Thechild laughed as he pretended to fall in the water.Wantingto share the moment withFrancesca, he turned to smile at her, but she’d disappeared (returning five minutes later with some bottles of water).Threeweeks later,Normanhappened.
Thinkingback to how perfect things had seemed on that holiday, howpromising, it still shook him to his core that he completely missed that she wasn’t happy.Fora long time, it made him question his ability to read people—a talent, up until that point, he would have claimed in spades.Asfar as he was concerned, that trip cemented their new love, boding well for many more trips in the future.Theyeven kept a running list of all the amazing places they’d visit together on his fridge.
Howwrong he’d been.
‘Yes, it’s lovely,’ he said toJess. ‘Wecan go there after theLouvre.’
TheLouvre.HeandFrancescahad laughed their way through that museum, making up stories about what was going on in the paintings.Theyeschewed the more popular items, avoiding theMonaLisain favour of quieter exhibits, feeling like explorers in anIndianaJonesfilm.They’ddiscovered intricate artefacts in dark corners: ancientGreektablets carrying hidden messages, carved urns containing secrets.IntheEgyptianroom, they made out behind a pillar.
Itwould be hard to top that experience.
Jessstood to clear the table. ‘No,’ saidKrish. ‘Youcooked.I’llclean.’
‘WhatdidIever do to deserve you?’Shegave him a kiss and went to lounge on the sofa with a glass of wine.
Ashe filled the sink, he ran through the details of the trip in his head.Tomorrowmorning, they’d catch theEurostarearly.He’dbought first-class tickets and booked rooms at theGeorgeCinq.OnSaturdaynight, they’d get on a private boat.Asthey took a leisurely ride on theSeine, a waiter would serve them a meal cooked by aMichelin-starred chef.They’dfinish the journey in front of theEiffelTowerat dusk.Fromthe bridge, the photographer he’d hired would capture the moment thatKrishgot down on his knee and proposed.Thefollowing day,KrishandJesswould do a two-hour couples shoot with the same photographer in the streets ofParisbefore catching the train back toLondon.
Hereally had thought of everything.Krishwanted to giveJessan unforgettable proposal story, something that would make her teacher friends exclaim with delight.Evenif proposing inParismight be a bit cliché, he was determined to make it the best damned cliché it could be.Onlya handful of his friends fromUniwere married, and he knew none of them had executed proposals half as romantic as this.
He’ddefinitely earn all the unicorn stickers.
Sowhy did his stomach ache?
Mustbe indigestion.Helet the dirty water out of the sink and went to look for antacids in his bathroom cupboard.Therewere none.
Noproblem.Hewould just run out to the supermarket around the corner and pick some up. ‘I’llbe back in a minute,’ he said toJess, who was watchingSexand theCityreruns. ‘Doyou need anything whileI’mout?’
‘Allgood, thanks.’
