Good at Being Alive(67)

I finish my makeup quickly and then emerge from the room, a big heap of awkward.

It’s our wedding day all over again—me making a ton of effort for something he thinks is a big fucking joke. Something I’m supposed to think is a joke but no longer do. Not as much as I should.

I’ve never cared about someone’s opinion of my appearance. It’s that I do care about his that’s making this unbearable.

Theo is on the couch, already in a tux—lovely, suave, slightly in need of a shave. His gaze locks on mine for a moment too long.

“I feel silly,” I announce before he can make fun of me.

He swallows as he rises. “You’re stunning.”

I fight a pleased smile. It means more to me than any compliment I’ve ever received.

We’re taken by car to the Eiffel Tower. Theo shepherds me through the crowd and onto the elevator, and we ascend to the viewing platform, where Lars is already set up to film us watching the sunset.

From this height, the city resembles one of those miniature replicas, the Seine curving like a ribbon through it, the roads running in perfect diagonals from the Arc de Triomphe, like the spokes of a wheel from its axis.

I wish I could have come here with Theo alone. I wish that instead of pretending to enjoy it, we could actually enjoy it.

The cameras are annoying, but even worse is the guide who accompanies the experience. She tells us how many meters high the tower is, among other things I don’t care about. Fortunately, the champagne seems to be unlimited, a bribe to keep us listening.

And by the time she’s done…it’s possible I’ve had a lot of champagne.

“Okay, let’s get you guys doing a toast and then we’re out of here,” says Lars.

I grin at Theo. “What are we toasting to?”

Theo grins. “Unconsummated marriages? They seem to be the best kind.”

“Sex would definitely ruin it,” I reply, and his gaze catches mine.

Is he thinking the same thing I am…that it would be interesting to put that to the test?

“Guys, let’s do that again,” Lars says. “Fewer references to consummating marriage this time.”

We clink our glasses together.

“To marriage,” I announce, “which isn’t nearly as terrible as I’d anticipated.”

He sips from his glass. “Almost pleasant, at times.”

“Okay, kiss and we can call it a night,” Lars says.

I glance up at Theo. Yes, we kissed this morning, we kissed in Italy, we kissed at our wedding. I’m not sure why this one feels different. As if it matters.

He leans down, spreading his palm along my jaw.

I want that hand to stay right where it is—on my face, pushing back into my hair—as his mouth presses to mine.

I want to keep gripping his jacket so I can remain on my toes, seeking that mouth, not ready to let this end. I want to hold his quiet, surprised exhale inside me forever.

“Well done, guys,” says Lars. “Extremely convincing. You’re finished for the night. Go enjoy Paris.”

We hand over our mics and proceed to the elevator. “I want Five Guys,” I tell him.

“We’re in the gastronomic capital of the world and you want a greasy American fast-food burger?”

“Precisely. And Paris is not the gastronomic capital of the world. Tokyo is, based on Michelin ratings. Like, a hundred and ninety-four to one twenty-three. And as my husband, I’m sure you wouldn’t force me to walk back down the Champs-?lysées alone at night, so I guess that means you want a burger too.”

“I absolutely would let you walk back alone,” he replies. “Fortunately for you, I’m starving.”

We call a car and have him deliver us to the middle of the Champs-?lysées. Theo nods at the restaurant. “Order for us both. I’ll be right in.”

I don’t love walking into Five Guys in a floor-length gown alone, but I do it and am having a friendly chat with the girl behind the counter when he returns…triumphantly brandishing a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.

What a good husband he’d make. I always wanted to end up with someone who realizes I need wine with my cheeseburger.

We drink it on the patio with our food, and as fun as it is, it’s also bittersweet. This was a short trip—Theo will return to London tomorrow night, and I’ll remain behind to be interviewed one-on-one for the show.

I wish it was longer. I wish he was coming home with me.

We slowly walk back to the hotel. I’m leaning on his arm because I’m drunk and he’s allowing it because he’s tipsy too.

There’s an outdoor bar, surrounded in greenery. Everyone is singing together, some French song I don’t know.

“Vive l’amour!” shouts a guy, glancing at our rings. “American, I think? And newlyweds? Come in, come in! A glass of champagne on the house tonight. We must toast to your union. May it last forever.”

“Shall we toast to our union lasting forever?” I ask Theo.

I’m absolutely certain he’s going to say no when he shrugs. “I suppose one can never toast to a union too often.”

We are led to seats at the bar. A bottle of champagne is opened, and glasses are filled.

“Now you must kiss,” our benefactor pronounces.

Theo and I glance at each other. “Nothing we haven’t done before,” I say, leaning over to chastely brush his lips with my own.