4. Meeting Paris
4
MEETING PARIS
RICHARD
After Rex and Chelsea’s luxurious wedding and reception in the city, my brother coordinated a major win with a surprise small town wedding and reception for his bride on Christmas night. The crowd buzzed around the Holly Creek Hops Brewery, a craft brew house in Chelsea’s small town.
Closest friends and families gathered, happy to be here for this second celebration of their nuptials—while I couldn’t even pull off one wedding with Janet a few years ago. I snorted. I loved my brother and wished them well, but a part of my ego stung badly from this.
The only relief among the blur of twinkling lights and holiday cheer was Vivian at the center of it all. She worked at a long wooden table, groaning under the weight of cookies, cake, and pies, a hot cocoa bar, and enough Christmas decorations to make a department store blush. With never a faltering smile, she handed out plates of treats to the guests.
Her mouth tantalized me in cherry red with a glossy center on her bottom lip. A tight red sweater dress hugged every curve. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder. As she spoke to each person, her hands moved like she was conducting an orchestra of pastries.
Nothing escaped my notice when it came to her.
Displaced, like a grumbly outsider in a room full of warmth and cheer, I stood in the shadows to one side, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. Every move she made held me in a trance.
Vivian was the only reason I was here, the pull that kept me from spending the holiday in my usual solitude back in New York City or jumping on my jet bound for a sunny exotic destination somewhere in the southern hemisphere. Anything to avoid Rex’s second wedding celebration with Chelsea. But Vivian was also the reason I stood on the periphery, watching instead of joining the celebration.
She had a way of unsettling me, stirring things up that I’d buried. I could not deny how I desired her, and I couldn’t get my mind off of her since the city wedding, but desire was dangerous. It came with risking my heart, and I wasn’t sure I could afford to take chances with that.
“Don’t play with her, Richard. Since single mothers aren’t your thing, then leave her be,” Rex warned, appearing at my side with a stein of a local brew in hand. Dressed in a plaid shirt that made him appear more like a mountain man than a Buchanan, complete with scruff on his face, his expression contained a mix of amusement and seriousness.
I had never told him or Miriam about that fateful trip to Paris. I wouldn’t start now, and shrugged indifference. “I don’t play games, Rex. You know that. I make sure women know where I stand at the start. Nothing serious. Sex only. I’ll steer clear of her. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate her assets from afar, though.”
“Good. She’s not like other women,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper as if the walls had ears.
“You got that right.” And that was precisely the problem. She didn’t fawn all over me as a rich eligible bachelor in the city. She was independent, strong, and it intrigued me and scared the hell out of me all at once.
“I only mean that if you break her heart, she’s family now. You’ll upset my wife, and then I’d hate to break your nose,” Rex explained.
“Right. I’d like to see you try, asshole,” I grumbled.
He chuckled, then stopped short. “Look out. Miriam alert.” He scuttled away like a coward.
Miriam’s presence loomed before me as graceful and commanding as ever. She wore a mink scarf that probably cost more than most people’s rent for a year, and her smile was the kind that held devious plots. “There you are. I was thinking you’d slipped away.”
“Not yet,” I replied, my voice flat. “But soon. I have a trip booked after the new year to New Zealand.”
“What are you going to do? Roam the globe for the rest of your life?”
“Sure. There are plenty of countries I have yet to see.”
“You think that’s a way to live? Alone and out of a suitcase?”
“It’s what I choose,” I snapped back.
“No, it’s running away. You told me once you wanted a family. I see right through you and how you can’t move on from the past. Well, you may have stopped your wedding from happening, but Janet still has you by the balls.” She squinted and peered down her nose at me, begging me to challenge her assessment.
“I was heartbroken, Mother. Devastated. Excuse me for not getting over her fast enough for you.” I couldn’t bite back a harsh response.
Suddenly, a little girl dressed in pajamas came out of the kitchen, running into Vivian’s arms. The sight of the mother holding her daughter pierced through my shield. My eyes glued to them and followed their movement back into the kitchen, which didn’t escape Mother’s notice.
She glanced their way, then back at me with intentions as clear as the diamonds on her fingers. “ She’s lovely, Richard. I’ve always admired Vivian’s pluck as I dealt with her while planning Rex’s wedding.”
I stiffened, retorting like a child. “I’m not settling down.”
She gave me a look of pity, lined with smugness. “You’re not getting any younger, either. Let me help you. I’ve spoken with a matchmaker. We can hone in on a few women who?—”
“I need some air.” I couldn’t take it any longer. The warmth of the room turned into a stifling heat that threatened to choke me.
I stepped away, loosening my tie, and leaving her and the festivities behind. Outside, the cold bit at my skin, but I welcomed it as a reminder that I was still in control, the master of my fate. At least for now.
I slowly paced the wrap-around porch of the brewery, smartly built, remodeled from a Victorian home. The snow fell quietly here in Holly Creek, admittedly beautiful and serene, versus in the city where the white drifts between the skyscrapers held less romantic appeal. The chill helped sharpen my senses.
Eventually, I made my way on the porch to the back of the building, protected by an overhang off the roofline. I paused by a row of patio heaters and chaise lounges. The glow from the brewery back door cast long shadows across the floor. Otherwise, the only light came from the moon above.
I pulled a cigar from my coat pocket and lit it, the brief flare of the match illuminating my face. Not a nasty habit, only something I did when I needed to drown my sorrows. Dad smoked cigars, too, and often when things troubled me, I lit one. I felt his calming presence while the smoke curled into the night air.
Inhale. Exhale. I leaned against the railing, letting the quiet settle around me. My mind, a mess of contradictions, tangled up in thoughts of Paris so long ago and the deal with Adrien that went sour… the one that had me tucking my tail and licking my wounds all the way back to New York.
When my blood work had come back proving my drink had indeed been tainted with something at Club Aces, I vowed to ruin Adrien, but I had no proof he had anything to do with it. With a bruised ego, I couldn’t let it go.
I had contacted friends in France with connections to the Police Nationale , spreading word of suspected drug activities at Club Aces. I’d heard they’d raided the place, and eventually the business folded. My family would be dismayed if they ever found out I had anything to do with it. My father had more honor in his business dealings than I’d displayed in the Club Aces fiasco.
I let my tie hang down and undid the top button of my shirt, the entire ordeal choking me, filling me with regret, especially considering Vivian had gone back to Adrien after our night together. She had a child with him. And now she was here—but I couldn’t seem to walk away.
“Have you ever been to Egypt to see the pyramids?” a tiny voice asked behind me, startling me and breaking the silence.
I turned, scanning from the opened back door, until my eyes landed on a girl wrapped in a blanket on a chaise, a picture book in her lap. She clutched a large stuffed tiger in one arm. Huge, curious eyes peered up at me from the tiny face of a little angel. The one who moments ago was in Vivian’s arms.
I quickly snuffed out the cigar. “I have,” I said, crouching down to her level, intrigued by her presence and her question. “What book do you have there?”
“Santa gave it to me. It has pictures of the world.” Her finger pointed from one page to the next of the slim book. A cute dark ringlet fell down her forehead as she scanned the one she was on.
“Do you know what they have at the pyramids?” I asked. She shook her head. “Camels. I rode one. Not very comfortable, but they get the job done,” I said with a grin.
She giggled, a bright sound that cut through the cold like a crystal bell. “Did you really ride a camel?”
“I did,” I replied, feeling a warmth in my heart that had nothing to do with the heaters. “It was bumpy, but I didn’t fall off. Not even once.”
“Did you ride it across the whole desert?”
“Only part of it.”
“I want to ride one.” She flipped another page in her book. “Have you seen a mummy?”
“Yes, I have.”
Her eyes grew enormous, like saucers. “Have you been inside a real pyramid? I would like to see one someday. I want to see all the world when I grow up.”
“There’s a museum in the city with mummies on display.” As patron of most of the museums and major galleries there, I had access to plenty of history and culture.
Her smile was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile back, the connection between us unexpected. Her determination and exploring spirit echoing in ways with mine that left me momentarily speechless.
How old was she? And was she mine? Before I could think anything more, Vivian rushed out and grabbed her daughter with a mix of urgency and relief.
“There you are, Paris. I turned for one moment to speak with the bartender and then you were gone. You scared me. You need to rest in the office until I finish here. We’re almost done.”
Paris looked up at her mother, her expression a blend of innocence and protest. “But I’m not tired. Besides, I was talking with the nice man.”
Vivian gasped, holding her tighter to her bosom, until she peered around and noticed it was me standing nearby. I smiled and held my hand in a simple wave.
“Oh, Richard. I didn’t see you there,” she said breathlessly. I couldn’t get past the way my name sounded on her lips. She could whisper, moan or scream it and I’d probably never get enough.
“Anyway, ma petite , you shouldn’t run off like that. You know better.” Her voice softened as she placed a hand along Paris’s forehead, as if checking for fever. Her concern was palpable, a mother’s worry that overshadowed everything else.
I stood to attention. “She’s still sick?” I blurted, my words tumbling out before I could stop them.
Vivian paused, her eyes ablaze, meeting mine, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of us. “I have an appointment next week before New Year’s with her pediatrician,” she said, smoothing back Paris’s hair with a tenderness that made my chest tighten.
I nodded, trying to mask the mix of emotions that threatened to surface. Concern, admiration, fear—so many feelings out of control inside of me.
She gathered Paris’s things, her focus shifting back to her daughter. “Let’s get you inside,” she murmured, picking her up and wrapping the blanket tighter around her.
“Bye, nice man,” Paris said and waved, her small voice carrying more weight than she probably knew.
At the door, Vivian set her down and shooed her inside, then hesitated. A look shared between us, hers like a protective mother, warning me away.
“She’s lovely. Seems to have a rather adventurous spirit,” I commented and stepped closer. “Reminds me of myself.”
“Yes. I think because she was born in France, it made her naturally curious about the world,” she answered, her face softening.
“How old is she?” I asked, that old gut instinct of mine waking up.
“Six. And I know what you’re thinking. We used protection that night, Richard.” She nodded, as if that should appease me, it didn’t. The timing of it all is a little suspect for me. “I suppose I have you to thank for the new van that was delivered to me yesterday?” She smirked and crossed her arms with the change of subject.
“Consider it a bonus for having to deal with Miriam Buchanan and the wedding planning over the past year,” I explained and stepped even closer. I didn’t bother to add that a company would be arriving the next week to apply gorgeous new decals and lettering to the van to better advertise her Cupcake Cottage.
She glared at me. “I’d prefer to return it. I can take care of things on my own. Where is my old van? I’ll get it fixed eventually.”
“Too late. That old piece of junk is in the scrap yard by now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Damn, the vanilla sweet scent of her wafted in the air. I should run far away, but instead my feet were glued in place.
“At least that junk was mine, bought and paid for through my hard work and meticulous saving.”
“Complain all you want, it won’t change the fact that the new van is yours, Vivian. And it’s also safer to drive your child around in.”
“Humph,” she slammed the door behind her. My head jerked back at first; I doubted anyone had ever dared slam a door on me. But then a sly smile curved my lips. That fierce motherly independence of hers surprising me by how I found it so fucking attractive. I had to quickly adjust myself.
I remained outside longer after they went in, bothered by a vision turning my knuckles white as I held onto the railing staring out at the snow-laden forest. My life flashed forward giving me a glimpse of the future—and many lonely years ahead. That scared the hell out of me.
Once inside, I didn’t spot Vivian again, like she was hiding. I took part in one more toast to my brother and his new wife. Envy tortured me with the future they embraced together.
Miriam and I were among the last to leave, and as we drove away, I caught one more glimpse of Vivian, carrying her daughter in a blanket out to the van.
Miriam noticed, too, and shot me a glance like she could read right through me. Like she had spied that my old dream of having a wife and kids was returning with a vengeance.
“Shall I call the matchmaker?” She asked, her raised eyebrow and voice dripping with smug confidence as if she knew her son well.
I sighed. I should agree to her matchmaking, but I’d hate every minute of it. If it meant I’d finally let go of the past and find someone to love, though, so be it.