Kissed in Paris by Juliette Sobanet Page B

landing on my chest.
    “What are you staring at?” I snapped, hoping he didn’t notice the flush spreading up my neck.
    Julien’s gaze flicked up to my face. “I am just thinking that for all of his flaws, Claude has good taste in women’s clothing. No?”
    Men .
    “I need to call my fiancé before we leave,” I said, taking a seat next to Julien on the bed and slipping on my heels.
    “Did you not just speak with him yesterday? He thinks you are working, no?”
    I peered down at my watch. Julien had a point. Paul would think I was working right now, and it was only three-thirty in the morning there. Waking him up in the middle of the night had never been a good idea, so maybe I should wait until he was up for the day.
    The tightness in my stomach dissipated the slightest bit. I could talk to him later. No need to make the situation worse than it already was.
    “Okay, I’ll wait. Let’s go.”
    Julien smiled at me, revealing his big dimple. “ On y va .”
     
    ***
     
    Julien ushered me through the front door of the hotel, and as I stepped out onto the sidewalk and took in the view of the crystal blue lake surrounded by tree-covered mountains, I forgot about my feet hurting, about the miniscule red dress I was wearing, about Paul, about our checking account, about how much Julien was grating on my nerves, about everything.
    I’d never seen anything like this place. It was breathtaking.
     “I told you it was beautiful here,” Julien said as he placed his hand on my arm. “I will show you all around after breakfast. Come.”
    I followed Julien but couldn’t keep my eyes off the scene that unfolded with each step through this enchanting town. White boats speckled the enormous, sparkling lake. They floated aimlessly, with no cares, nowhere to go, no race to run. Small, laughing children frolicked in the grass, their parents lined up on benches under lush trees, the view of the mountain tops just beyond the leaves that swished in the breeze. The air was cool and refreshing and smelled of pine. As we turned our backs to the lake and walked into town, the mouth-watering scent of chocolate mixed with coffee drifted out into the cobblestone streets, making my empty stomach growl.
    The lake funneled into a bubbling stream that flowed peacefully through the town. Vibrant bundles of pink, purple and white flowers spilled over the small pedestrian bridges that stretched across the stream. Meandering tourists strolled up and down the path, shooting pictures of buildings the color of sunset, their shutters open to let in the fresh mountain air.
    I remembered walking past this area the night before, but in the daylight, it was a completely different story. “Charming” didn’t even begin to touch what this town was. It was a real-life fairytale.
    Julien led us to one of the cafés that lined the stream and pulled out a chair for me at a table that had a perfect view of the majestic lake, the towering mountains, the sweet-smelling flowers, the chirping birds, the rustling trees—all of it.
    He sat down across from me and grinned. “See, spending the day in Annecy is not so bad. You do not have places like this in America, am I right?”
    I thought back to our townhouse in DC, near Dupont Circle. It felt light years away. “No. There is nothing like this in the States. Nothing at all.”
    A tall, dark-haired server with a breezy smile on his face appeared at our table. “ Bonjour Mademoiselle, Monsieur. Vous voulez quelque chose à boire? ”
    “ Un café pour moi , et . . .” Julien turned to me. “Do you want a coffee?”
    “ Un café pour moi aussi, ” I said to the waiter, hoping my accent was comprehensible. “ Et je . . . um . . . je suis une question ?”
    The server’s eyebrows knitted together. “ Oui , Mademoiselle ?”
    I thought I’d just told him I had a question. Or did I say I am a question? Shit. Whatever, he got the point.
    “ Il a y . . . I mean, il y a une grève ?” I managed to spit