Diary of a Wedding Planner in Love (Tales Behind the Veils Book 2) (19 page)

Take-Off

Oh holy shit. What do I do now?

I got nervous when they started boarding and he hadn't returned, but it just fueled my anger more at him for acting like an ass and ruining everything. My angry facade had cracked a bit when they called his name on the PA system for final boarding, especially when I reached for my phone to call him and saw his in the top of my bag. I'd tossed it there when the argument began. I had no way to reach him.

I decided I'd be damned if he'd come back and see me sitting there all by myself waiting for him. He thought I needed rescuing? I'd show him I could take care of myself. I didn't need him.

So I said to hell with it, and I got on the plane. By myself. Now we're in the freakin' air, and I'm still sitting here by myself. On the way to Paris. By myself.

He didn't get on the plane.

He didn't come back.

WTH.

The pop of the cabin door sealing shut had clamped down tight on my heart and took my breath away. I unbuckled my belt and stood, ready to grab my things and run, but then I realized I didn't want to get off. I didn't want to wander around the airport looking for him. To walk back to the car in the lot and find he'd driven away without me. To go back to the office and tell them I'd been abandoned at the airport. Or to call my mama on my birthday and tell her I was in Orlando after all. I most definitely didn't want to spend my birthday crying all day because I was supposed to be in Paris. With Cabe. Wearing my matching bras and panties, checking out Notre Dame, and taking river cruises.

So I sat back down and struggled to buckle my seatbelt with shaking hands.

Waves of nausea threatened to overtake me as they went through the emergency procedures. I waited to turn my phone off until the very last second possible in case he tried to call.

But he didn't. He left me. Cabe left me.

Disbelief and shock numbed me throughout take-off and the first few minutes of flight. But when the cold truth of the situation set in, I sobbed a good ole ugly cry without a care in the world who saw or what they thought. After all, it ain't like they didn't see us going at it before take-off. They knew I didn't start this trip alone.

But I'm alone now.

What was I thinking? I don't speak French. I know nothing about Paris. I don't even know where the hotel is. Or how to get there from the airport. I trusted Cabe to take care of all that.

Thank God all the paperwork and vouchers ended up in my carry-on bag. Now I just hope the hotel will let me check in without him.

I'd say this ranks up there with one of the dumbest decisions I've ever made.

In a couple of hours, I will step off this plane in a foreign country where I don't speak the language and have no idea where to go or what to do.

I will be completely and utterly alone.

Oh holy hell.

Friday, March 7th

Well, I survived so far. Woohoo. Way to go me, right?

Thankfully, some compassionate soul put English on enough signs in the Paris airport that I found my way to baggage claim. Not that it did me much good, since our suitcase somehow didn't arrive in Paris.

I stood there at the luggage carousel, watching as one by one my fellow passengers claimed their bags and walked away. I felt a little more panicked as each one left me.

When the last family picked up their bags to go, I almost clung to them and begged them not to leave without me.

There I was, the only one left as the empty carousel circled around and around without my bag. I have never felt so alone in my life.

An airline employee directed me to the luggage help desk, where I joined a group of twenty or thirty disgruntled passengers from various flights who were also seeking their luggage. I heard bits and pieces of several different languages, but no English. An odd sensation to be sure. One I'd never experienced before.

My ears perked up when I heard a tall gentleman in a long, black pea coat say his name to the attendant behind the counter. He’d been speaking to her in French, but his American accent clearly came through when he said his name and flight details in English. It was like hearing the cavalry coming across the hill. Someone spoke my language!

He was alone like me, which I noticed immediately since everyone else seemed to be traveling in pairs or with their family.

He didn't seem upset like the others, though. He conversed with the attendant casually, calmly. Almost like he was buying tickets for a movie or a museum instead of demanding the return of his personal belongings.

He turned back once, and his eyes stopped briefly when they met mine before he looked away and faced the attendant again. The color caught me by surprise. Not quite blue. Not quite green. Teal, I guess, except people don't have teal eyes. They were striking, especially against the black fringe of bangs that fell low across his brow.

"You're American?" I asked as he walked past me.

"Yeah." He smiled, but it was clear I'd startled him. "Ohio, and you?"

"Florida." I grinned like a mule eating briers, ridiculously happy to be conversing with someone.

He cocked his head to one side. "I detect a Southern accent."

I nodded. "Georgia, originally."

He smiled and found a seat to fill out his paperwork. When I'd finished at the counter, I took the seat next to him to fill out mine. Ohio might be nowhere near Georgia or Florida, but in the grand scheme of life and the globe, we were from the same place. Practically neighbors from across the ocean. I needed to be near him and feel connected to home.

"So you speak French?" I asked the obvious.

"Yeah. Some. Enough to get by. And you?"

I smiled and shook my head. I fought back fear as I considered again the overwhelming prospect of navigating the city without the language.

"Oh, you'll do fine," he said. "You'd be surprised how many people here speak English. A lot of the signs have it, too."

I nodded again and turned back to the forms in front of me, willing myself not to cry.

He finished his papers and took them back to the counter, stopping near me when he returned.

"Alright, well, I hope you enjoy your trip. It's got to get better from here."

"What?" I asked, wondering if he somehow knew what had happened.

"Lost luggage. Not a great start to a trip."

"Oh, right." I nodded.

He paused for a moment and then extended his hand. "Jack Rainey."

I shook the hand he offered. "Tyler Warren."

"Enjoy Paris, Tyler Warren. It's a magical place."

He walked away, and I immediately felt alone again.

Damn Cabe.

I finished the paperwork, and the attendant lady told me they'd deliver my luggage to the hotel. Well, if they find it. I thought maybe Cabe had gotten it back when he left, but she assured me it was on the plane at take-off. Not sure how they lost it between there and here, but my luck, it's bobbing around in the Atlantic.

At least the Metro station proved easy enough to find. I must say I felt relieved I didn't have the bulky suitcase to maneuver through the turnstiles on top of figuring out the ticket system.

I studied the guidebook I'd bought at the airport for pretty much the entire train ride, looking up every few minutes to make sure I didn't miss my stop for the hotel. The train filled more with each stop, and by the time we reached my station, I had to fight my way through the crowd to get out the door.

Cold air blasted me in the face as I came up from the Metro and out into the bustling city. I shivered against the light mist of frigid rain as it settled over me, chilling my bones and making my eyes water under its stinging assault. I dug my gloves and scarf out with trembling hands, thankful for the first time that I'd carried my heavy coat with me since it wouldn't fit in the suitcase.

The map I'd memorized on the train didn't translate well above ground, which resulted in a few wrong turns before finding the hotel. In the first stroke of luck I'd had all day, the room was ready and they let me check in without even asking about Cabe. Thank you, Lord, that the reservation was in both names.

I've checked my phone a hundred times since I landed, but no call. No text. He really did leave me stranded at the airport.

I bet he never thought in a million years I'd get on that plane without him.

I'm sure he thought I'd just sulk my way back to the car when I realized he wasn't coming back.

Well, he was wrong. My stubborn ass waltzed right onto that plane and right off into the unknown. And now I'm sitting here in this hotel room looking out the window at Paris, and I'm terrified.

I can't believe I'm here alone. All by myself.

Part of me wants to burrow down under the covers and sleep until it's time to go back to the airport on Sunday. But part of me wants to show him, and me, that I can do this.

I mean, I'm in
Paris
. I can think of a helluva lot worse places to be abandoned. Even now as I stare out at the city, I feel adrenaline and excitement coursing through my veins underneath the fear. This is not how I planned to be here, but I'm here. I might as well enjoy it.

Still March 7
th

Later that night

So when I said earlier I'd survived so far, I was being a bit dramatic. After tonight, it holds a bit more truth. I have to say for the most part it was a pretty good day. Despite the disastrous start with Cabe and tonight's scary finish here.

I allowed myself a much-needed nap before venturing out with my handy guidebook in hand. I found a crepe wagon a couple of blocks from the hotel and wolfed down a ham and swiss crepe like a stray dog who’s been tossed a meaty bone.

I figured I'd start with the Eiffel Tower, it being the biggest, most well-known landmark, and therefore easy to find.

None of the pictures or movies I've seen do it justice. It is even more commanding, more regal, and more breathtaking in person. I probably could have sat there for hours just staring at it, but the rain started up again, so I sought out the Louvre as an indoor haven.

I meandered through Greek and Roman history and then fought the crowds to catch a glimpse of the Mona Lisa. After a couple of hours, all of history began to blur together, and the outside world beckoned to me once again.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped, but that didn't keep the cold from cutting right through my thin Florida skin. My coat provided sufficient warmth for the rare cold day in the Sunshine State, but it was no match for such a blustery European day. If only I'd had the extra layers of clothes from my suitcase.

I drifted in and out of boutiques to try and stay warm on my way up to Sacré-Cœur perched on the tallest point of the city, high atop Montmartre. The nuns were finishing their evening performance as I entered the church, and I wished I had arrived sooner to hear more of their angelic voices lifted to the heavens. I don't know how long I sat afterward on the low walls in front of Sacré-Cœur, gazing out over Paris beneath the gloomy sky. The gray clouds lent a vintage filter to the Paris skyline, and I probably took a million pictures, none of which could possibly convey the scenery laid out before me.

As the falling temperatures and darkening sky signaled the inevitable end of day, I made my way back to the Eiffel Tower, eager to see it at night. It didn't disappoint. In fact, it seemed even more impressive with its massive pillars bathed in a golden glow against the darkness. I waited breathless with the crowd for the first twinkle light display, all of us gasping in unison as the entire tower went dark and then began to shimmer all over with sparkling white lights. Truly the most magical thing I've ever witnessed. In fact, it so enthralled me that I forgot to take pictures during the five-minute display. Thank goodness they repeat it every hour.

I snapped shots of the tower from every angle, even one from underneath staring straight up into it. I had just stepped out of the crowd a little to playback the pictures on my camera when I saw Jack from Ohio. He was sipping a coffee and looking up at the tower, maybe four feet from me.

You would've thought I'd seen an old friend from high school. I got ridiculously excited to see someone I knew, even if I only
knew
him from a five minute encounter at the airport.

"Jack!" I yelled above the crowd.

He turned in surprise and smiled as he saw me. I walked toward him, not even considering how forward that may be. I hadn't talked to anyone in hours, and I feared I may self-combust if I couldn't have a conversation.

"Isn't this thing incredible?" I motioned to the massive structure above us.

"Yes, it is. This is your first time, then?"

I nodded, still grinning like I'd won the lottery.

"I can't believe how big it is," I said, looking back up at the tower.

"Much larger in life, for sure. Did you go up today? To the top?"

I shuddered just thinking about it. "No. I was supposed to get tickets before I came"—the memory of the airport argument momentarily clouded my thoughts—"but I'm kind of glad I didn't. It's so high up. I don't think I could have done it."

"Oh, you have to. The view is just incredible. You can see the whole city up there."

"I'll take your word for it."

"So what did you see today?"

"I spent some time at the Louvre, and went up to Sacré-Cœur, but I think I've pretty much sampled food more than anything. Macarons, crepes, croissants. I've eaten my way through the city."

"The food in Paris is like no place else. Have you tried the crepes right over there?" He pointed toward one of the huge pillar bases. "I was considering getting something sweet to go with my coffee. If you'd like to join me?"

I nodded even though I wasn't hungry. I had no desire to part company with conversation so quickly.

"So what brings you to Paris?" I asked as we joined the line for crepes.

"I'm a clinical trial director for a pharmaceutical company. We're doing some drug trials in a research facility here in Paris. And what about you?"

"I'm a wedding planner."

He laughed and looked at me like he thought I was joking. "Really? Okay. I never met a wedding planner before. That must be an interesting job."

"It is. Most people always say they think it's glamorous. Which, it's not. Or they say it must be nice to work around happy people all the time. Which, they're not. They're probably more stressed than at any other times in their lives. But you said interesting. That it is."

"I bet."

He ordered a cinnamon and vanilla crème crepe, and I ordered one with hazelnut filling and strawberries. The warm, gooey sweetness filled my belly and gave me a momentary sugar buzz.

We stepped out from under the tower as we ate, going upstream against the never-ending onslaught of people beneath it.

"So you didn't say what brings you to Paris. Are you doing a wedding, or just here on vacation?"

His eyes sparkled with reflections of the lights behind me as he talked, which only served to enhance their unique color.

"I'm here to celebrate my birthday tomorrow." My insides twisted as I said it, remembering who booked the trip and wasn't here with me to celebrate. The crepe felt heavy in my stomach, and I swallowed hard to force the emotions down. The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of the only person in the city I could talk to.

"Well, happy birthday! Paris is a great place to celebrate it. Would it be rude to ask how old you'll be?"

I struggled to push thoughts of Cabe out of my head and smiled. "Not at all. Twenty-six. Officially closer to thirty than twenty."

Jack laughed and covered his mouth to chew before he spoke. "Well, I turned twenty-nine not too long ago. Officially closer to thirty than twenty-six."

We talked more as we ate, and I found myself enjoying his company for more than just his language. It felt great to talk and laugh after so many hours alone, but the cold wind cut right through me as the hour grew later, and I couldn't stand still without shivering.

"I guess it's a lot colder here than Florida, huh?" Jack asked as I adjusted my scarf and tucked my hands in my pockets.

I nodded. "Definitely. I dressed for the trip to the airport, figuring I could add more layers once I got here. I wasn't planning on not having my suitcase, though." I also wasn't planning on not having my traveling companion, but I didn't mention that.

"Hopefully it will be there when you get back to your hotel. I've been lucky. Only lost luggage twice before in all my travels. One other time landing in Paris, ironically. But both times I had my suitcase the first night so it wasn't so bad."

"I hope so. Otherwise I may have to stay indoors at night. This wind is brutal!" I stamped my feet back and forth to try and generate warmth.

Jack smiled. "Well, don't let me keep you out here. I need to be moving along anyway. I want to get an early start tomorrow and jet lag's catching up with me. It's been nice talking with you. Always good to meet a fellow American abroad. So…happy birthday, and enjoy the rest of your trip."

I wanted to ask him not to go, to delay parting a little longer. I wasn't looking forward to being alone again. But I didn't want to seem like some weird stalker, and it was colder than a witch's brassiere in a blizzard. The thought of my nice, warm hotel room enticed me enough to say goodbye.

"Nice talking to you, too. Maybe I'll see you around." Part of me hoped I would. Someone familiar in the crowd.

"You never know. It's a big city, but a small world." Jack smiled again and tipped his hat to me, his black hair falling forward over his face before he tossed it back out of his eyes. "Good night."

He turned and disappeared into the crowd, and a melancholy loneliness settled over me. I walked to the Metro entrance bundled against the bitter bite of the wind that chafed mercilessly against my cheeks.

As I descended into the depths of the subway station, I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings. But my thoughts were consumed with Cabe, with Jack, with being alone, and with the uncontrollable shivers racking my body. I crashed right into a guy as I walked along the platform.

He grabbed my arms lightly, although I don't know if it was to steady me or to assault me. Either way I jumped back like he'd burned me. He said something in French, obviously a question by his tone, but he didn't release my arms. He reeked of alcohol, and his bloodshot eyes leered up and down me like he could see right through my coat.

Panic raced through me as I tried to pull my arms free and found them firmly held. He repeated his question, along with a few other words. Another man stepped up from behind him, saying something to me in French as he licked his lips in exaggerated lewdness. They both laughed. Not a pleasant laugh, by any means. My stomach turned as I pulled again to try and free my arms.

His buddy said something else, and French Man repeated what sounded like his original question, but in a tone that definitely came across more sinister. They laughed again.

I couldn't decide if saying I didn't speak French would help or hurt my situation.

He pushed me back a step, and every terrible scene I'd ever seen in movies flashed through my mind. I'd be kidnapped. Sold as a sex slave.

"
Ne parler pas
." I stuttered out one of the only French phrases I knew, letting him know I didn't understand his request. I jerked at his grip and pulled free for a second, but he caught my right arm again, twisting it this time as he pushed me backwards toward the stairs.

I opened my mouth to scream, but my body slammed back against someone, effectively knocking all air from my lungs and sandwiching me between French Man and whoever blocked our path.

"There you are, honey," Jack said behind me. "Come on, we don't want to miss our train." I twisted to see him smile at French Man and his companion, noticing his eyes held no humor at all. He spoke to them briskly in French as he took my left arm and guided me around them. French Man released me and backed up a step, spewing angry French at us both.

Jack didn't respond but kept walking me toward the benches at the far end of the platform. He released my arm, but his hand stayed at the small of my back as we walked.

"I see you made new friends," Jack said as my knees wobbled out from underneath me, and I practically fell onto the bench.

"No. Oh my God. I am so freaked out right now. What was he saying?" I kept my eyes on Jack, not daring to look back at French Man. Jack stared over my head, and I knew he was either watching them or watching for them.

"He made you an offer of his company for the evening. It wasn't one I thought you'd like, so I provided an escape route. Hope you didn't mind."

"Not at all. Holy crap. I can't stop shaking. I thought I was a goner. Kidnapped and sold into slavery."

"I think he was considering a bit more personal encounter." He looked at me then and smiled as I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. "You okay?"

"Yeah, thanks.
Honey."
I glanced back at him and forced what I hoped looked like a smile, my stomach still flipping in loops from the anxiety of the encounter.

"Sorry about that. It was the quickest plan that came to mind."

"Oh, no complaints. I was glad to see you.
Honey."

Jack chuckled. "Good thing I arrived when I did."

"Why did you? Arrive here, I mean. Is this your train?"

He nodded as wind whooshed through the platform with the arriving train. We got up together to board, and I exhaled and risked a glance back toward French Man, but he and his friend had gone. The experience had left me shaken and grateful for Jack's presence in the car with me.

"So which stop is yours?" I asked, hoping he'd be on the train until after I got off.

"St. Michel."

"Me too!"

We laughed to discover we were staying within a block of each other, which worked out great for me. He escorted me all the way to my hotel entrance before wishing me a happy birthday and a safer day tomorrow.

No suitcase awaited me, but the front desk clerk offered me a toothbrush and toothpaste, which I greatly appreciated. A shower rinses away the grunge of the city, but teeth that haven't been brushed in over twenty-four hours need something a little stronger than water. Yuck.