22. Namesake
22
NAMESAKE
RICHARD
We wrangled Paris from our car up the stairs and into my private jet. It stood ready, a sleek pale blue against the gray stormy sky, with the Buchanan family crest in gold, black, and red emblazoned on its tail. We would not let a bit of rain disrupt our plans.
A call came in after we stepped onboard the jet. I paused in the doorway and quickly answered. My assistant confirmed she’d made all the arrangements exactly to my specifications. Ending the call, my jaw tensed about it.
Vivian met my eyes as I entered the cabin. “All good?” She asked, while the flight attendants collected our wet umbrellas and coats.
I pressed a kiss to her temple and spoke in a hushed tone. “Everything is arranged. Adrien won’t be a problem much longer.”
“I won’t pry into the details. You’ve told me what I need to know for my part in the plan. I just hope it all goes off without a hitch.”
“It will. I’m treating this like any other business negotiation—which I’ve handled hundreds of times. Trust me, I always win.” I had to, for Paris’s sake. She nodded, leaving the specifics to me. I appreciated her trust more than she realized.
Over the past few weeks, my plan took shape to thwart Adrien’s threats. A special party would take place. Adrien would be there. My staff made sure all the guests were invited—including one very important individual, the final pressure point and key to the entire plan.
Adrien may have outmaneuvered me at the hospital, but this time, he wouldn’t hold the advantage. I ran a hand through my damp hair and sighed. With a flight ahead of us overnight to Paris, no sense worrying about it now.
The nanny and tutor arrived on board and settled in. The flight attendants made sure Paris got a grand tour of the jet, her eyes wide with wonder.
On the flight deck, she met Captain Reginald, and politely asked him, “Can I see Paris from the sky?”
“Eventually, but not until we’re a little closer,” he said.
“What about the Eiffel Tower?” She didn’t miss a beat.
“You’ll see that too once we’re flying over France. But between now and then, mostly you’ll see the ocean below, until it gets dark outside, then you might see stars above.” He smiled at her inquisition.
“Can I learn to fly?” She peered at all the controls.
“Sure. When you’re old enough,” he chuckled.
“Was Paris named after me?” she continued with endless curiosity.
“I think it was around long before you were, but we can pretend someone named it after you,” I interjected, saving Reginald from having to answer that one.
“Okay, we should probably let the captain get ready to fly. What do you say to him?” Vivian curtailed more questions.
“ Bon voyage! ” She waved, and the captain handed her a cute pin that read Junior Captain in raised letters over a pair of wings—her badge of honor. She had Vivian pin on her right away.
“Thank you. I know you’re eager to get there. Don’t worry, I’ll keep this bird in the air and keep you safe, little miss,” he assured her, tipping his captain’s hat.
Back in the main cabin, Paris spun slowly in a little circle, taking in every detail. The jet was exquisite—one of the last major purchases my father made before he passed. Polished, rare wood surfaces mixed with plush ivory leather filled the interior with brightness and warmth. The luxurious seats made you feel as if you were sitting on a cloud, or even dozing off, which we hoped Paris might soon do as darkness fell.
Vivian gave me a hesitant smile, squeezing my hand as if to anchor herself. I pulled her in for a quick, reassuring kiss.
“We’ll be there before you know it,” I told her.
“Kissing again? Why do mommies and daddies always have to kiss?” Paris giggled and plopped into a seat and made a beeline for the window.
We hadn’t yet sat her down to explain “us,” choosing to keep displays of affection to a minimum around her. Still, Paris seemed to understand, knowing that Vivian and I shared a bed, and we had been living together as a family since we left the hospital. She never questioned it, which I took as a sign that she wanted to belong to a family. Mine. And this trip would make that happen.
I planned to make it official soon—beginning with changing Paris’s name, and then working on making Vivian a Buchanan, too.
“Hey, this pillow has a B on it,” Paris exclaimed as she picked up the royal blue velvet pillow and traced the gold-threaded monogram with her finger.
“B for Buchanan,” I said, and eased into the seat beside her.
“Can I be a Buchanan?” She asked, jolting me. Vivian and I traded glances. She sent me a nod of approval. We hadn’t planned on talking to her about it here, but…
“Would you like to be one, like me?”
She scratched her head.
“ Ma chérie, what that means is that you’ll be Paris Buchanan. No longer Paris Bardeaux,” Vivian calmly explained.
“I want to be like Daddy. I can’t wait to be a Buchanan. I feel like a princess,” Paris exclaimed.
“Not quite. But you are my daughter. Close enough,” I winked and gathered her for a quick hug, swallowing the lump in my throat. I couldn’t wait for the day to erase Adrien’s name from her life and replace it with mine.
“Mr. Buchanan and guests, please buckle up for takeoff,” the captain addressed us over the speaker.
“Okay, let’s get buckled in.” I leaned over to help Paris with hers, double-checking that she was secure.
Vivian sank into the seat across from us, a smile lighting up her entire face. And her eyes—God, those blues—met mine. They were soft, hopeful, no longer shadowed by exhaustion or worry. The hospital felt like another lifetime. All that stress, all that fear—it was finally behind us.
I reached for the hand of this woman who had invaded my heart and soul, who had made me feel more alive than I had since I took my first million-dollar risk long ago. I could sense my old workaholic life fading away, replaced by the new life I’d always dreamed of.
By the time we soared into the sky, Paris buzzed with excitement. Her face pressed against the window, and a pair of tiny headphones looped over her head.
“I’m flying to the city I’m named after,” she repeated, as if talking to the plane might make it believe her.
“Yes, you are. Think the city is ready for you?” I grinned.
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe. I even brought my glitter pens. I can draw a picture for it.” Soon, she was sketching an airplane in a sky filled with sunshine. Below it were many tiny houses and a tall structure that, in her imagination, probably came alive as the tower.
In the back row, the tutor and the nanny sat at the ready for us whenever we needed them. Yet the cabin felt like it belonged only to me, Vivian, and the child who carried both of our hearts.
The flight was smooth, and before dawn, we arrived at our destination. A car whisked us away to the George V, where I carried a drowsy Paris into our suite. Gently, I set her in the center of our bed while Vivian and I settled on each side, exchanging quiet whispers.
“This isn’t quite like our first night together,” Vivian teased, glancing at the sleeping little girl between us. “But I’m so grateful we’re here. Thank you for this trip. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I said the words I could never get enough of. I reached an arm over both of them, resting on her waist. They were everything I wanted, right here with me.
A few hours later, as soon as Paris stirred, we all woke, eager for the day ahead. In our robes, we sat out on our private terrace enjoying cappuccinos, croissants, and fruit—a delightful breakfast delivered by room service. Yet, what enchanted Paris most were the panoramic views of the city; she barely sat, continuously standing by the rail, and gazing out.
“I think the Eiffel Tower is calling my name,” she declared, starting our day out with laughter and joy.
“Well then, we better get you there,” I said. We dedicated today to us and sightseeing, while tomorrow we’d deal with Adrien.
Our suite at the George V was every bit the luxury I was accustomed to—grand crystal chandeliers, gilded accents, and long drapes that swept the marble floor. But watching Paris twirl barefoot in her sundress, croissant in hand, transformed opulence into pure magic.
Vivian finally emerged from the bathroom wearing soft cashmere and tailored pants with sensible walking shoes, her hair loosely braided in an effortless, radiant style. I longed to kiss her then and there.
However, Paris was already bouncing with energy. “Can we go? Please? The sun is shining and I want to see the tower.”
I reached for my coat, and we set off.
We rode the elevator to the very top of the tower. Paris held my hand tightly, her small body vibrating with wonder as the entire city spread out beneath us. On the other side, Vivian clung to my arm, shivering.
“I’ve never been to the top before. I always chickened out at the last minute,” she admitted.
“Not today. Hold on as tight as you need because I’m treating you two to the full Parisian first class experience.” I kissed her temple.
Once there, Paris peered around in awe. “It’s like I can see the entire world! Can I see New York from here?”
I chuckled and knelt beside her. “Almost. See that way… to the North? That would be London out there somewhere. And over here…” I picked her up and carried her over to the sign stating Sud for South before pointing roughly southeast. “In that direction would be Egypt.”
She gasped. “I can see pyramids from here?”
“They’re still too far away, but it’s in that general direction.” I laughed, then carried her to face west, explaining that New York was that way. Though she didn’t entirely understand, her nod was all that mattered.
After the tutor and nanny took over entertaining Paris, I noticed my lovely Vivian gazing out over the city. I wrapped my arms around her from behind.
“I’ve mostly been a student, then a mother, never really a tourist here,” she murmured. “The view is spectacular.”
“Yes, it is. And you’re beautiful,” I replied, nuzzling into her neck. My words brightened her cheek with a rosy hue.
After snapping countless photos—and even letting Paris try her hand at using my phone—we eventually descended, promising her we would come back again.
We strolled through the Champ de Mars gardens with Vivian’s hand in mine while Paris skipped ahead. Near the base of the tower, beneath its iron framework glowing in the sun’s golden light, I quietly pulled Vivian to a stop.
She turned toward me, the soft light in her eyes reminiscent of the spring sky. Her lips parted slightly as, beneath the monument that had witnessed our very first night together, we shared a kiss. Slow and deep, full of meaning. Her fingers curled into my coat, and my heart pounded out of its cage.
This was exactly as it should have been—from the very beginning.
“I love you, Vivian,” I whispered, gazing deeply into her eyes.
“I love you too.”
“More kissing?” Paris interrupted, head tilted inquisitively. I laughed and swept her up in my arms as her giggles filled the air.
“Well, they call Paris the City of Love, and it is rather romantic. And I love your mother, and I love you, my darling girl.” What was this feeling taking over my body? My heart light, I couldn’t remember a time when I ever felt this buoyant. The heavy despair that had enveloped me for years after my breakup with Janet seemed like a distant memory.
I wasn’t na?ve enough to think that challenges wouldn’t arise as Vivian and I worked through our situation and parenting, but I was overly confident we could overcome them—together.
“Okay, who is ready for lunch in the Montmartre?” I asked, and off we went, continuing with our itinerary for the day.
Our car left us at the base of the stairs leading to the streets of Montmartre. Paris attempted to count each one, but soon lost track on her way to one hundred. I carried her the rest of the way, pretending I wasn’t out of breath. Scaling all of those steps wore Paris—and us—out enough that she sat nicely through a leisurely meal at a sidewalk café Vivian fondly remembered from her previous time here.
We dined on French onion soup, steak frites, croque-monsieur, and finished with chocolate crepes topped with Chantilly cream. Throughout the meal, Vivian’s soft moans of content set me on edge—in a good way and stirred something wild in my heart.
Paris immediately fell asleep in my arms as we met our car and driver on Rue Lepic. But the day was far from over. In the afternoon, we visited Parc Zoologique de Paris, where I had arranged a private tour so that Paris could marvel at the wild animals. Once she realized where we were, her energy renewed—her eyes wide with wonder as she absorbed everything.
While the tutor and nanny answered her endless questions about each creature, Vivian and I strolled hand in hand.
“This trip with you has been so different from my life before,” she said, looking up at me. “Will it always be like this?” Pride swelled in my chest, knowing I could offer her and Paris experiences no one else ever could.
“If by that you mean surprises at every corner and spoiling you both, then yes. Nothing makes me happier, cupcake.” I kissed the back of her hand. “Do you love it here? We could live in Paris, you know.”
“I’ve always loved Paris, but I also miss home. Holly Creek, my shop, Paris’ school—a sense of normalcy. I feel like the charmed life we’ve been living since the hospital has been a grande voyage with you, and none of it is real. In New York, living in your penthouse, and getting to see plays and museums once you two felt better, was lovely. And now Paris? I’m waiting for life to pinch me and make me wake up from a dream because I know this can’t be our real life forever.”
“Sure it could. I can give you any kind of life you want, Vivian. Just tell me what it is and I’ll make it happen.”
She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Even if I want to go back to Holly Creek for a while? I’d love to return to my shop, to see Paris play with her little friends. Her birthday is in July, and she wants a slumber party. And you could be there with us—the dad at the barbecue.” Her eyes sparkled, and I knew how much it meant to her.
“Well, I do have a house to build there anyway, if that’s what you want.”
“I do. After this trip, Paris should return to her class at school and finish out the year. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us, but I’d love to see you live in our world for a while. I think Holly Creek could do wonders for you, Richard.”
“If that’s where you two are, then that’s where I’ll be. Pleased to be the Master of the Grill.” I winked, relieved to get on the same page with her. “And of course, I’ll be planning our next adventure with Paris somewhere new.”
“Of course,” she laughed.
We wrapped up the day at Angelina’s for their famous hot chocolate. By the time we finished, Paris had a bit of a chocolate smear on her nose.
“Come here, my little explorer,” I said, dabbing at her with my napkin to clean her up.
She declared, “This was the best day of my whole life, Daddy.”
Vivian glanced across the table at me with eyes that said just as much.
“Well, guess what? I have a feeling this will not be our last best day.”
Back at the hotel, Paris was sound asleep long before the elevator reached our suite. I gently carried her in, while Vivian pulled back the covers in the adjoining bedroom.
Paris stirred once as I set her down, murmuring, “This is the best story,” before slipping back into slumber.
“Maybe today was too much. We still need to be careful with her condition,” Vivian whispered as we slipped out.
“I know. She was so excited today, though. The rest of the week we can slow down,” I assured her.
In our room, I wrapped my arms around her from behind, and swayed with her, gazing out at the sparkling city below. In the peaceful quiet, the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall matched each beat of my heart.
Vivian turned toward me. “I’m trying not to worry about tomorrow—just staying in this bubble with you.” Her eyes brimmed with hope, caution, and longing.
“My plan will work, I promise. One way or another, after tomorrow, Adrien will be nothing more than a forgotten name.”
She rested her forehead against my chest, but it wasn’t long before our lips found each other. Her hands fisted in my shirt, and she clung to me with everything she had.
This woman and our daughter—this family we’d built from heartbreak and healing... They were mine.
I’d protect them with everything I had, especially here—where our story first began.