SIXTEEN
Rocking cute black pencil skirt, vintage Bowie shirt tucked into my bra, the perfect pink fitted blazer and open-toed killer heels, I was ready for the today. I was excited for my late morning meetup with Gia Lione.
Paris in the morning was a symphony of smells and sounds, each one pulling me in different directions. I decided to start my day at a little bakery tucked away on a side street, the aroma wafting through the air. I would never tire of all the treats. I didn’t care if I gained ten pounds during this trip. I planned to say yes to everything I wanted, and pastries were always a yes.
I devoured a croissant that practically melted in my mouth and I set off on some more exploration. First stop, a chocolatier. Not just any chocolatier, but one that offered private chocolate-making classes. I watched as the chocolatier carefully crafted truffles, each one a piece of art. This would be perfect for my clients looking for a unique team-building activity.
Feeling more like myself every second, I continued my explorations. This version of me—unburdened by the past, free to enjoy the present—felt closer to who I truly was. I realized I was excited about life again.
I grabbed an outside table at the cafe where I’m meeting Gia.
I’m early and have time to answer emails.
Jolting me out of my euphoria—my phone vibrated.
It’s Gia, probably running late.
I was very wrong.
Definitely not running late, she told me her plane was diverted due to mechanical issues.
She apologized, but luckily her brother was in Paris to take the meeting.
I reassured her that it’s no problem and she hurriedly gets off the phone—I’m nothing if not flexible with business partners.
“Charlie?”
I looked up, and there he was (again)—Luca, standing at my table, that infuriatingly handsome grin on his face. My heart skipped a beat, but I tried to play it cool. "Luca? What are you doing here?"
He chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Interestingly enough, I’m actually here for a meeting. Filling in for my sister."
I blinked, processing his words. "Your sister?"
“Yes,”
he said with a nod, stepping a little closer to the table. "Gia.“
I stared at him, the pieces slowly clicking together. “What fucking alternate universe am I living in?"
Luca laughed, "It seems this universe demands we spend time together." Meant for only him, I hear him whisper L’universo mista tentando.
"Charlotte Monroe." Luca’s eyes widened slightly in connection. "Wait—Charlie is for Charlotte?"
I grinned, enjoying his surprise. "Yep. Nobody calls me Charlotte."
He laughed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced down at me, clearly amused.
I shrugged, trying to keep my expression light, but there’s a thrill in the air I can’t quite ignore it. "Well, I can tell you for certain—I didn’t expect to meet with you."
"Not all surprises are good, but this one is," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from me, looking far too comfortable. "Or even serendipitous."
He leaned in, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Do you believe in coincidences, Charlie?"
"I’m starting to think I don’t," I replied, meeting his gaze.
For a moment, we just sat there, the weight of our unexpected meeting settling in. It’s absurd, funny, but also… something more. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t shake the feeling that Luca being here wasn’t just by chance. And judging by the look in his eyes, he’s thought the same thing.
“Well,”
Luca said, breaking the silence with a playful grin. “I guess we have a meeting to commence, don’t we? Business, Ms. Monroe?”
I laughed, “Certainly, Mr. Lione.”
My mock tone obvious.
And just like that, the morning took a turn I never could’ve expected. The man I can’t stop thinking about kept showing up in places I’d never expect.
“So, tell me about your business,”
he said. “What’s the story behind Elysian Experiences?”
I smiled, “It’s kind of a long story,”
I laughed softly. “But I’ve always loved adventures—finding those unique, unforgettable experiences that stay with you long after you’ve left a place. That’s what I wanted to create for other people. The idea came to me one summer before my senior year of college. I was traveling, and I realized there was this gap. People were always going on trips, but they weren’t really experiencing the places they visited. They’d see the sights, take the pictures, but they weren’t truly connecting.”
Luca understood, his gaze intent, clearly interested.
“I wanted to create something more than just travel,”
I continued. “It’s like solving a puzzle—you have all these amazing pieces: the destinations, the people, the food, the culture. But you don’t have a picture to guide you. You have to put it together in a way that makes sense, that resonates. That’s the creative part, the part I love. It’s about creating a whole experience that feels exclusive and adventurous. Something that changes you, even if just a little.”
Luca’s lips twitched into a smile. “So, no ordinary travel agency, then.
“Exactly,”
I smiled back. “Every trip, every event, has to feel like magic. It’s got to linger, you know? That’s the goal with Elysian—crafting moments that stay with people long after they’ve returned home.”
He nodded again, taking it in. “That’s incredible. It sounds like you really put your heart into it.”
“I do,”
I admited. “It’s like a part of me goes into every experience we create. I want people to feel that sense of wonder, of connection. That’s what makes it all worth it.”
Luca’s eyes softened as he looked at me. “You’re passionate about what you do. It’s inspiring.”
“Thank you,”
I felt a warmth spread through me. “It’s something I’ve always been drawn to, the world is so full of possibilities. I love being able to bring a little bit of that magic to life for others.”
Luca smiled, and I could see a flicker of something in his eyes—something like admiration, or maybe understanding. It’s difficult to decipher what’s going on behind those eyes.
As Luca began to talk about his family’s wine business, I was intrigued. It’s the reason we’re here, after all. Elysian was always looking for unique partnerships, and Gia was supposed to be my contact. But when Luca showed up instead, I wasn’t going to complain.
“Our business is family-run, as you know,”
Luca confirmed, his voice smooth and assured. “Gia’s the face of the operation—she handles everything from the vineyards to the events, all the public-facing aspects. She’s a natural with people, making them feel like they’re part of something special like you do.”
I already knew this from my research. “She’s done an amazing job building the brand’s image. It’s rare to see a family business with such a strong identity.”
Luca appeared pleased, “We’re proud of what we’ve built. My role is more behind the scenes—I handle the strategy, the expansion, all the negotiations. I’m constantly on the move, looking for new opportunities to grow the business. My two brothers are involved, but in different ways,”
he explained. “One is focused on modernizing the brand, especially through digital marketing. The other… well, he’s still finding his place, but he’ll get there.”
I considered his words and how complex it might be to four siblings running a business. “It sounds like a lot of moving parts, but you’ve all found your roles. That’s not easy in a family business.”
Luca made an exaggerated face letting me know it was work. “It isn’t. But we’re lucky—we complement each other well. Gia’s attention to detail, my strategic mind, and our brothers’ fresh perspectives. It works…most of the time.”
There’s a pause, and I can’t help but admire the way he spoke about his family, his business. It’s clear that this isn’t just a job for him—it’s a legacy, something he’s deeply invested in.
“Our parents worked very hard to create something to pass along through generations. They wanted to leave a legacy centered around the opportunity to create a sense of connection and community. Family is important. Essential. It doesn’t have to just be the people you are related to but also they ones you chose.”
“You know,”
I met his gaze, “when I first started Elysian, I wanted it to be something like that. Not just a business, but a way to bring people together, create something lasting.”
Luca’s smile widened. “And you have. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To find a way to bring our worlds together, to create something extraordinary.”
That explanation excited me. It was accurate. “Exactly. And I think we’re onto something.”
We decided to extend our meeting with some walking. As Luca and I strolled through Rue Montorgueil, our conversation was light, filled with the kind of easy banter that comes when you're not just getting to know someone, but genuinely enjoying their company. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the street, highlighting the vibrant mix of old and new that made this part of Paris so special.
We walked past charming little shops, cafés with tables spilling onto the sidewalk, and market stalls brimming with fresh produce. But then, something caught my eye, and I stopped abruptly. Luca paused beside me, his curious gaze following mine to the shop ahead.
It was Rotisserie Stohrer, its old-fashioned fa?ade standing proud amidst the more modern surroundings. My heart skipped a beat, and I could feel the excitement bubbling up inside me as I turned to Luca.
“Do you see that?”
I asked, my voice tinged with awe. “That place isn’t just a shop—it’s a piece of history.”
Luca looked at me with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “I can see that. Tell me more.”
I couldn’t help but smile, the words spilling out of me as if I’d been waiting for the perfect moment to share this story. “Rotisserie Stohrer goes back to 1730. Can you even imagine that? Nearly three hundred years of baking history right here on this street. The founder, Nicolas Stohrer, wasn’t just any pastry chef—he was an innovative patissier from Poland who followed the Duke of Lorraine to France. The Duke’s daughter was promised to Louis XV, and Nicolas was their personal chef.”
Luca raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. “So, he was a bit of a big deal?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. After five years working in the royal court, Nicolas decided to open his own shop right here on this very street. And here’s the best part—he invented the rum baba. Can you believe that? A pastry that’s still popular today, created centuries ago in this little shop.”
Luca glanced at the shop, then back at me, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You talk about it like you were there, like you’ve seen it all.”
I chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through me. “That’s the thing—I love finding places like this. Shops, events, experiences, dining—anything that has a rich, colorful, sometimes even obscure or haunted background. There’s something magical about stepping into a place and feeling like you’re connected to all the stories it’s witnessed over the years. It’s like keeping the bones of the past alive, while everything else changes around it. Paris is full of them if you look beyond the surface.”
He looked at me, really looked at me, as if seeing something new in the way I spoke. “You have a way of weaving yourself into history, Charlie. It’s like you’re not just telling the story, but you’re part of it.”
I felt a flush of warmth in my cheeks at his words, but I couldn’t help myself. “That’s what I love about places like Stohrer. The owners now—they kept many of the original traditions and flavors, as a homage to its beginnings. It’s not just about preserving history, but celebrating it, letting it live on in a way that feels tangible.”
Luca’s gaze lingered on the shop before returning to me. “I can see why you’re so passionate about what you do. You’re not just creating experiences—you’re curating moments that connect people to something bigger, something timeless.”
His words struck a chord in me, and I felt a deep sense of gratitude for this moment, for someone who not only listened but understood. “That’s exactly it, Luca. It’s about finding those connections and sharing them with others. It’s why I love what I do.”
He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. “Well, I think you’ve found the perfect career. I wish they weren’t closed, so we could see if the rum baba lives up to the legend?”
We walked in a thoughtful silence for a few minutes, not uncomfortable but contemplative. “Do you ever feel like you were meant to be here?”
Luca asked, his tone light, but there was a deeper meaning in his words.
I glanced at him, curious. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I mean, here in Paris. You seem so connected to this place, like it’s a part of you. I guess I feel the same way about Italy, especially the vineyards. There’s something grounding about being where you’re meant to be.”
I considered his words, nodding slowly. “The excitement when visiting never dulls. France is part of story. I started here. My mother is French and my father is an American. He attending the university here for his phD in Art History. They met at a museum. It’s all ridiculously romantic and happy. They lived here until I was ten and we moved to Boston. I missed it every day. Paris has always felt like home, even when I was growing up in Meaux. There’s a history here, a rhythm that just makes sense to me.”
He looked at me with a newfound admiration. “It makes sense now, why you do what you do. You’re not just a travel expert; you’re a storyteller.”
I smiled, feeling the compliment deeply. “And what about you? You’ve been a bit of a mystery so far. What drives you, Luca Lione?”
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. “I suppose I’ve always had a love for the land, for creating something tangible with my hands. The vineyards—it’s not just about the wine; it’s about the process, the connection to the earth, the people who come together to make something special. It’s hard work, but it’s rewarding.”
I nodded, understanding him in a way that felt almost intuitive. “What we do is similar in a kind of way.”
“Exactly,”
he said, his voice sincere. “I think we’d get along in some capacity no matter where we met. There’s a shared understanding there.”
We fell back into a comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying the sounds of the city around us, the distant hum of conversation, the occasional laughter from a nearby café. But then, as we turned a corner, disaster struck—well, a small one at least.
My heel caught in the uneven cobblestone, and before I could react, it ripped clean off. I stopped abruptly, staring down at the ruined shoe, a moment of shock passing through me. Luca looked at me with wide eyes, then quickly tried to suppress a laugh.
“Oh no,”
I said dramatically, holding up the broken heel. “I’m devastated. My poor shoe!”
Luca couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. “You’re taking this very well, considering the circumstances.”
I sighed theatrically. “Well, when life gives you cobblestones…”
I kicked off the other shoe and held it up as if to say goodbye, “...you walk barefoot.”
Without another thought, I tucked the shoes under my arm and continued down the street in my bare feet, feeling the cool cobblestone beneath me.
Luca shook his head, still chuckling as he fell in step beside me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone embrace a situation like that before.”
I shrugged, feeling a sense of liberation with every step. “Why not? It’s Paris, after all. If you can’t walk barefoot through the city of love, where can you? Plus, I have made the promise to myself to be less serious.”
He smiled, a glint of something affectionate in his eyes. “You are full of surprises, Charlie. ”
“Good,”
I replied, grinning up at him. “That’s exactly how I like it.”
As we continued back toward the hotel, barefoot and laughing, I couldn’t help but think about how easy it was to be around Luca. The banter, the shared stories, the way we just seemed to click—it felt effortless, like we could have met anywhere in the world and found our way to each other.
I felt the shift in the air between us, and I knew what was coming before he even spoke.
“So, Charlie,”
Luca began cautiously, his voice soft, “I keep trying to make sense out of yesterday. What happened with that guy? Michael, was it?”
I tensed slightly, though I knew this topic was bound to come up eventually. It had been an unexpected, awkward encounter, and it probably deserved some attention, if only to clear the air.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep things light. “Michael and I broke up several months ago. Well, he broke up with me, and I was very okay with it, which told me it had been over for a long time. I needed to do some thinking and consider that maybe I wasn’t leading the most authentic life. Self awareness and all that bullshit—turns out, it’s kind of important.”
Luca glanced at me, his brow furrowed slightly, listening intently. I continued, wanting to get this out without turning it into a therapy session.
“Nothing is ever perfect,”
I said, shrugging as I stared ahead, my feet padding softly against the uneven stones. “There are always two sides, right? I’m sure we have different versions of our timeline. Relationships are work—I get that. But I also know that it’s not fair for me to ask someone to understand, adapt to, or change for my way of life. And I would never want someone to do that to me.”
I felt Luca’s eyes on me, but I kept walking, focused on the path ahead. “In all honesty, I can’t deliver what relationships require to thrive. I’m completely dedicated to building this dream, my dream.”
I gestured around us, encompassing the world I’ve been creating through Elysian Experiences. “And even though Michael is a cheating douche, he does deserve someone who wants to give him all the attention he needs—or whatever it is he’s looking for. But that wasn’t part of my skill set.”
I risked a glance at Luca, gauging his reaction. His expression was neutral, attentive, but not judgmental. That encouraged me to continue.
“Too much?”
I asked, motioning between the two of us. “I know men hate talking about this kind of stuff. I don’t really like it either.” I let out a nervous laugh.
Luca chuckled softly, shaking his head. “We don’t all hate it, you know. Some of us can handle a bit of emotion.”
I smiled, appreciating his attempt to ease the tension. “The point is, I know what I have to offer in a relationship, and it ends up not being enough, even when I’m more than upfront about it. I think relationships just aren’t in my life path for a while.”
Luca nodded, digesting my words. We walked in silence for a few moments, the sounds of Paris enveloping us. The city felt both comforting and exhilarating, much like this conversation. It was strange, opening up to someone I’d only just met, but there was something about Luca that made it feel safe, natural.
“I get it,”
Luca finally said, his voice warm. “I feel that same way most of the time. Sometimes, we need to focus on what drives us. And if that’s your business, your passion, then that’s where your energy should go. You’re building something incredible, and it’s okay if that’s your priority.”
I looked at him, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks.”
We continued walking, the topic drifting away like the echoes of our footsteps. I felt a sense of relief, not just because the conversation was over, but because it hadn’t changed anything between us. If anything, it felt like we understood each other a little better now.
I decided it was time to turn the tables a bit. We’d been walking and talking for a while, and I could sense that we were both testing the waters, feeling out each other’s boundaries and stories. But there was one thing I hadn’t asked yet, and it felt like now was as good a time as any.
“So, Luca,”
I began, trying to sound casual, “are you single?”
His reaction was priceless. He blinked, clearly surprised, and then a slow, amused smile spread across his face. “You’re direct, aren’t you?”
he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “I like that.”
I shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant, but inside, I was curious—really curious—about his answer. He hesitated for just a moment, then sighed as if resigning himself to the truth.
“I’m single, yes,”
he said, nodding slightly. “But it’s not because I haven’t tried to be otherwise. I’m more of the fun guy. I’ve tried dating, but it always ends up the same. Very similarly to what you said, anyone I start seeing inevitably wants more. In the beginning, it seems to work—but I assure you, it never does.”
I listened intently as he continued, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. “My mother loves setting me up with single women from back home. It always ends in a disappointed call from her. My father used to call ahead to warn me.”
He laughed, and I could picture the entire scenario—his poor dad, caught in the middle of it all.
“I’m not opposed to being in a relationship,”
Luca added, his tone more thoughtful now. “I’d love a family. I come from a very close Italian family—there’s only one kind of Italian family. It’s expected of us all to settle down, have kids, carry on the tradition. None of us are married or have children. Holidays are basically lectures about how we’re letting my mother down.” He laughed again. “No grandkids in sight. She worries she’ll be gone before any one of us has children. It’s all very dramatic. Very Italian.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that, imagining the scene: a big, boisterous Italian family, all gathered around, with his mother lamenting her lack of grandchildren.
“One day, maybe,”
Luca said, glancing at me with a shrug. “But if not, I’m still building a family business to sustain generations. That’s like a child, right?”
I chuckled, nodding. “Definitely. Though I’m sure your mother would say no.”
Luca laughed, a rich, genuine sound that echoed off the old Parisian buildings around us. “You’re right about that. She definitely would say no.”
I was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. There was something comforting in hearing that someone else was navigating the same complexities of life—of expectations, dreams, and the sometimes elusive balance between personal and professional aspirations.
As we walked, our conversation became lighter, more playful again, but the understanding between us had deepened. We were both people who were driven, passionate about what we were building in our lives, yet also aware of the sacrifices and challenges that came with it. And while neither of us had all the answers, it felt good to share the questions with someone who understood.
And as we approached the hotel, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the unexpected way our paths had crossed, and how easy it was to share pieces of myself with him—even the ones that weren’t always pretty. And as I looked up at him, catching the way the evening light softened his features, I realized that maybe, just maybe, this was one of those moments that would become part of the story I’d look back on someday, with a fondness that went far beyond the cobblestones of Paris.
“I like you, Charlotte Monroe,”
he teased. “I’d love to spend more time with you,” Luca admitted as he stroked my hand with his finger so softly I thought maybe I imagined it.
“I would like that,”
I barely got out.
“Dinner,” he asked.
I blinked, caught off guard. “Tonight?”
I repeated, my voice a little higher than usual. “I mean, yes, but—” I paused, scrambling for the right words. “I wasn’t really expecting… I mean, not that I’m not prepared. I just—” I laughed, trying to smooth over my sudden nervousness.“Sorry, that came out wrong.”
Luca’s smile widened, and he tilted his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Are you saying yes, or…?”
I felt the heat rising to my cheeks. “Yes! I’m saying yes. I just—”
I took a breath, trying to center myself. “I guess I’m still trying to remind myself I’m on vacation. And usually, I plan everything and am very rigid, but this…it doesn’t seem to work that way.”
He nodded, his gaze warm. “We can just enjoy the moment.”
I smiled, feeling the tension ease. “Right, you’re absolutely right. I’d love to have dinner with you.”
Back in the room, I take a moment to make peace with the loss of this pair of heels. A shower is mandatory because despite my willingness to walk barefoot through Paris, I was sure as hell going to scrub the city streets off of me. I have to tell Lena, she will love this.
Me: Broke my favorite heels. My Gucci ones.
Me: Paris cobblestones: 1, Charlie: 0.
Lena: NOOOOOOO! Those heels were amazing!
Me: Spent day with Luca. He invited me to dinner.
Lena: Hit it! It’s vacation.
I sent her a photo of the broken heel, and she replied with a series of laughing emojis.