Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
JEMMA
He’s up and gone before me again, just like the last four days.
I always thought Parisians took their time—joie de vivre and all.
I know he doesn’t have to work, so where does he go?
When I ask him about it, he simply says he has things to do.
I don’t press him because I know the French are private.
But come on, dude! You can’t have “cookie time”—that’s what I’ve been calling our little bedroom escapade—and then pretend our passionate moment never happened.
Ugh! Seriously, every time I think of it, I go red in the cheeks and get a bit lightheaded, but then the frustration creeps in, ruining it.
I feel like his roommate. His pal. Good ol’ buddy Jemma, just hanging around. Sure, we see each other in passing, but there’s no playful touching, no sweet kisses in the kitchen. Nothing!
So much for being perfect.
I have my own schedule, and he has his. But I’m not going to let that stop me. I’m in Paris, and I’ve got a list to check off.
Seriously, I have a real handwritten list, from . . . you guessed it. Luca. On Monday morning, I woke to find a checklist of sights—for your blog—it read.
See, it’s things like this that keep me wanting him. He can be thoughtful and attentive when the mood strikes. I still don’t know about the whole blog idea, but the list has come in handy.
So far, I’ve toured the Louvre, Musée de l’Orangerie, and the Musée d’Orsay, with the d’Orsay being my favorite, especially the fifth floor with the Impressionists.
I spent hours soaking in the works of Monet, Degas, and Renoir.
One painting, Bal du moulin de la Galette, held me captive for what felt like an eternity, transporting me to another time.
Most days, it’s been gloomy, with an afternoon shower. I’ve been hoping for snow, but it’s yet to be seen. I wish it would snow before I leave. I’d love to see this magical city blanketed in white.
On another note, I’m quite proud of myself for mastering the metro system. I even got myself a reloadable Navigo pass with my photo and everything. I feel like a local when I pull it out and give it a swipe.
Plus, the metro is so much more efficient than the New York Subway system, and quite frankly, much cleaner. The downside is that it gets just as packed during rush hours, but I’ve figured out how to plan my days around that.
I’m also slightly obsessed with the Art Nouveau signs marking the Metro entrances.
Metropolitain. They almost make you feel like you’re going somewhere magical, but then you remember you’re entering an underground transit system.
At least they try. I was excited that my favorite museum even had an exhibition on the designs which made me appreciate them even more.
The little things that bring me joy these days surprise me.
Have I said it enough? I. Love. Paris.
I’ve also seen the expansive views of the city from the steps of Sacré-C?ur, perused books at Shakespeare and Company, window shopped along the Champs-élysées, walked along the dreamy Seine River, toured Notre-Dame, enjoyed an iconic hot chocolate from Les Deux Magots, and have eaten at more boulangeries than I can count on one hand. Don’t judge. When in Paris.
But tonight, I’m veering from my list. I’ve done a bit of research on my own, and Luca will be accompanying me whether he likes it or not.