she whispered.
“What?”
Angela tilted her head back and let the sun dry the fresh tears in her eyes. “You look like it is Christmas morning, and you’re getting ready to unwrap an amazing gift.”
Ryan reached to her cheek. “I’m watching you unwrap the gift, Angela. Paris is the gift.” He leaned toward her and dropped a light kiss on her cheekbone. “Fits perfectly, doesn’t it?”
She didn’t pull away from him after the kiss, instead she wound her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. There, they stood for a long time with the sounds of Paris enveloping them.
Yes, in fact. It did fit perfectly.
As evening fell, the city changed from bright and cheery to warm and sultry. The blanket of night created an almost utopian atmosphere. The day had been amazing, and now they were sitting at a bistro just outside their hotel. Angela couldn’t stop thinking about the sculptures they’d seen at the Beaute de L’Art Gallery. “Be honest with me, Ryan. I’m not making this up, right?”
“Are you talking about the statues Olivia sculpted?”
Angela sipped her espresso and thought back to the room filled with tall, beautiful contemporary statues that resembled bodies intertwined. Each one had been unique and more than a little on the avant garde side. From stone bases, two pillars—the male a sepia tone, the female an off white—were wrapped together. Each statue stood placed on a base of ocean waves crashing up the sides of the subjects and a sandy bottom beneath them. Some of the sculptures were no more than two to three feet tall. Some were as tall as Ryan. But the intention was evident. Two opposing shades—a perfect complement for each other, interlocked in an ethereal dance of strength and beauty.
Angela had described each to Ryan as they worked their way through the gallery. But when the gallery owner came near, he suggested Ryan feel the statue to get a sense of it. He’d done that with several. “Yes … the sculptures.”
“No, Angela. You’re not making up what they symbolize. Even without sight I could see they are personal to the artist.”
“Those sculptures represent Olivia and Jesse, don’t they?”
“We may be making a giant leap, but yes.” Ryan finished his baguette and dusted the breadcrumbs from his mouth. “I think they do.”
“She still loves him too, Ryan. Why else would she still be sculpting likenesses of the two of them?”
Ryan grinned. “The city of love may have gone to your head. I never pegged you for such a romantic, Angela.”
She brushed a hand through her hair. The Paris breeze had worked its way through the strands the better part of the day. “I never would have pegged myself as a romantic either. All I know is forty years ago, two people who were in love were ripped apart. And if those statues are any indication, Olivia is still broken about it. We already know Jesse is. Ryan, maybe we can reunite them.”
Ryan slid his plate away and rested his forearm on the table. “Angela Reed, did you get me here under false pretenses?” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Did you bring me to Paris under the guise of learning what happened all those years ago when in fact, this is a Cupid mission?”
She pressed a hand to her heart. “Excuse me, but you’re the one who brought me here.”
“New plan. The Louvre will have to wait. Tomorrow you call Olivia.”
A fresh wave of apprehension hit Angela. “Maybe we should wait—”
“No. Tomorrow. Deal?”
Their server left with their tab after Ryan handed him a credit card. “No backing out.”
“Okay. Tomorrow I call Olivia and see if she’ll meet us to talk.”
“Great. Now, let’s get you back to the hotel so you can collapse into that heavenly bed.”
A thrill raced down Angela’s back. There was so much to love about Paris.
“I can’t believe we’re standing here.” Angela’s throat had gone dry.
Ryan reached to knock on the door of the apartment. It was in a beautiful building with high ceilings and windows that viewed the park. They stood on a freshly polished marble floor hallway. Angela grabbed Ryan before his hand made contact with the door.
“Wait,” she said. “I’m not ready.”
Earlier that morning, she’d dialed Olivia’s number from Ryan’s cell, but she couldn’t bring herself to connect the call. Over and over she’d done this. Each time, changing what she’d say then hanging up before the call was actually connected. She’d finally uttered, “We need to do this in person.”
“Knock, Angela.