“Yay,” Lindsey said apathetically.
“You know what I look forward to? The day I get to tell Dad that you’re with someone else,” Alexa quipped. Since the split, Lindsey had dated men here and there, but she’d never found anyone serious. For her, love was never a focus. She already had her two loves—Alexa and the magazine. She didn’t have time for anything else.
“At least you’ll always have something to look forward to,” Lindsey said.
“Mom. Come on. I’m in college now. You have this whole giant place to yourself. Don’t you want someone to share it with?”
“I get to share it with you during holidays and summer. Besides, I’m more concerned with work right now,” Lindsey said.
“You always say that,” Alexa said.
“Actually, someone wants to buy POV. And not just someone—Trent Greer.”
Alexa’s eyes lit up. “The publishing guy?” Lindsey nodded. “That’s great!”
“It would be if I was selling,” Lindsey replied.
“Would that be so bad?”
“Sweetie, it’s what I do every day. It’s who I am. I’m not selling my life.”
Alexa looked as if she was going to hold back, but couldn’t stop herself from saying more. “What life? All you do is work. You know I love the magazine, but it’s the only relationship you have.”
“I have you,” Lindsey protested.
“When was the last time you went out and did something that wasn’t related to business?”
Lindsey thought about it for a moment. There had to be something else she did, but she couldn’t think of anything. She tried again, but nothing. Finally, she decided to change the subject.
“Can you believe you’re going to Paris for three whole months?” she asked.
“Nice pivot.” Her daughter knew when she was deflecting.
“Helicopters pivot, right?” Lindsey asked. She didn’t want to talk about letting go of POV anymore.
“You know what? You’re right. I can’t believe I’ll be in Paris for three months. I’m excited. Are you?” Alexa asked.
“For you? Absolutely.”
“I meant for you, Mom. You haven’t been to Paris in twenty years. I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Lindsey replied.
“We’re going to have fun. We’re going to Paris!”
Lindsey smiled at Alexa’s enthusiasm then pulled the pot of boiling water off the stove. She fished out two noodles, handed one to Alexa, then grabbed one for herself. Together, they threw them against the wall. The pasta stuck and they exclaimed, “Done!”
“Now let’s eat. We’ve got an early flight to catch, and you need your beauty rest,” Alexa said.
“Excuse me?” Lindsey asked with a smile.
“No offense, Mom. But you’re not as young as you used to be, and you never know who you might meet. It’s Paris! Anything can happen.”
Isn’t that right, Lindsey thought, then wondered once again what had happened to Jack.
Chapter Three
Paris
From ten thousand feet, Lindsey could almost smell the fresh croissants of her favorite bakery near the Sorbonne. Even two decades later, her mouth still watered at the memory. She made a mental note to stop for one when she took Alexa to sign up for classes. She hoped they’d still be around, but then she remembered that the establishments of Paris, unlike the relationships formed there, lasted forever—or so it seemed—and she probably had nothing to worry about.
“Are we there yet?” Alexa asked groggily as she woke and stretched in her seat.
“Twenty minutes,” Lindsey replied. “Are you ready?”
“I will be once I have a coffee. Speaking of, how many have you had? Did you not sleep at all?”
Lindsey had spent the entire eight-hour flight online, researching Trent Greer and his company. To sell or not to sell? That was the question. “I slept,” she said, completely lying.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Hey,” Lindsey said. “Give me a toothbrush, some eyeliner, and a fresh coat of lip gloss, and I’ll be looking just fine in five minutes.”
“You do know it’s ten in the morning here, right? You probably should’ve slept.”
“I’ll be fine,” Lindsey said with a yawn. “I promise.”
She took a deep breath to wake herself. This was Paris, and Alexa didn’t want to spend the whole time in the hotel room. But Lindsey would be fine. At work, she’d been known to pull all-nighters, and she functioned well on little sleep.
Alexa looked out the window as they approached the City of Lights. She squeezed her mom’s hand. “We’re almost there!”
Lindsey smiled. It was good to see Alexa so happy.
The plane began its descent, and twenty minutes later, it landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Soon after, they had their bags and were seated in the back of a Mercedes-Benz taxi headed straight for the city.
Alexa stared out the window, bright-eyed. Lindsey watched the way her face lit up. It reminded her of when Alexa was young. Every time she passed by her painting in their Queens apartment, she’d ask Lindsey about the Sorbonne and Paris. Lindsey would have to regale Alexa with another tale, another memory, a description of the famous sights. Now that they were heading to Paris for Alexa, the tables had turned. Alexa was the one spouting everything she knew about the city. When they were in flight, Alexa had showed Lindsey a notebook full of research. She had a list of the quaint cafés they had to go to, and notes of the best walks to take. Alexa had explained that she’d read article after article and scoured social media to learn the best times to visit the most popular and iconic sights. She had everything planned.
Alexa pointed over her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, look. It’s the Eiffel Tower. We need to go!”
Well, that one was on every visitor’s list. Lindsey smiled. Alexa’s enthusiasm was contagious.
“We’ll go,” Lindsey said as she took in the massive metal structure. It was every bit the same as she’d remembered—spectacular, full of promise, and daunting all at once.
“Have you been to the top?” Alexa asked.
“Only once.” Jack had planned an entire day for them around the tower. First, there was a picnic in the park, then there were cappuccinos from the barista with the white-and-black striped shirt, and finally, at sunset, there was the ride to the top. At the pinnacle of the landmark, they’d shared their first kiss… the gentlest, most skin-tingling kiss she’d ever experienced. Lindsey could still remember the blood-orange color of the sky that night. She’d spent weeks afterward trying to replicate the exact shade for her final painting, but never could get it right. Then the lock had dropped into the Seine, and Lindsey had returned to New York City. The painting remained unfinished.
“I can’t believe you never came back,” Alexa mused. Her gaze was still focused on the world outside her window.
“Well, now I’m back. This time with my girl.” Lindsey grabbed Alexa’s hand and squeezed it tight. The cabdriver merged into the traffic flowing past the Eiffel Tower, and the sight slowly disappeared