The woman behind the counter put the charms on the bracelet and handed it to me. I put it on Kellie’s wrist, confused by the tangle of emotions swirling through me.
When I had it clasped, she looked up at me and smiled. “This is the best souvenir ever.”
“Good.” I rubbed her arm. “Shall we go?”
We continued to walk and shop. She chatted beside me noting interesting sights. I’d nod in acknowledgement, but inside I felt all off and unsettled. In some ways, I was eager to get home because then I could feel normal. And then, my stomach would tighten in a sort of dread, as if I never wanted to feel normal again.
20
Kellie
I loved every place we’d been to, but Paris was a magical city. Even so, I was having a hard time fully enjoying it. All I could think about was that this dream trip was coming to an end. But it wasn't the end of the trip that I was grieving. It was the man sitting across from me at the fancy restaurant. Ryan was so much more than I’d ever known and I had no doubt now that I was falling for him. Head over heels. I wished I could be the woman to help him see that there was more to life than work. In some ways I think I had, as he finally let himself enjoy this trip. But once we left, he’d be back to his old self. And I’d be expected to be my old self. The intimacy, emotionally and physically, would have to stop.
I looked down at the charm bracelet he bought me, fingering the sun charm he’d chosen. For a moment, I thought maybe he was feeling the pull between us like I was. But that was a dangerous thought. Next I looked at the heart charm that I’d chosen because my heart was full when I was with him. Not that I told him that. The look on his face when I selected the heart charm told me that my falling for him was the very last thing he wanted. Thankfully, he bought my story about choosing the charm to represent how I was loving the trip. The heart represented the entirety of this experience.
The dinner was spectacular like all the meals we had. I even tried escargot, which wasn’t too bad. Garlic and butter, as it turned out, could even make snails palatable. My favorite, though, was the chocolate mousse dessert.
Afterwards, we walked along the river, admiring the lights and sights of the city. Soon we were closing in on our hotel, but I wasn’t ready for the night to end. He must have felt my hesitancy.
?
??How about we go to a club?” he asked.
I nodded. Then I frowned. “Do you dance?”
He smirked. “I danced with you in Interlaken. Or did you forget because you were drunk?”
I walked my fingers up the front of his shirt. “I didn’t forget because I was drunk. I forgot because you blew my mind later that night.”
He grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”
I laughed. “Come on Casanova. Show me your club dance moves.”
The club was loud, filled with techno music and flashing lights. We found a place in a corner, although there was no escaping the noise and lights. We ordered drinks and after a few sips, Ryan asked if I was ready to dance.
He led me to the crowded dance floor and we began to move. At first, I was surprised at how well he danced. Then I remembered how he was in bed. Graceful, smooth, rhythmic. Of course, he could dance. I moved with him, laughing and having more fun than I could ever remember having at home. We danced and danced until my feet started to hurt and I got thirsty.
“I’ll get us drinks and meet you at the table,” Ryan said when I told him I needed a break.
I nodded and started back to the table.
“You’re American, no?” a man who was probably in his mid-thirties approached me.
“Yes.” I studied him, not sure if he was genuinely curious about my nationality or was trying to hit on me.
I got bumped by someone behind me and the man reached out to take my arm as if he was steadying me. I pulled away, still not sure what his deal was.
“You dance nice. You can dance with me. I dance nice too,” he said in his thick French accent.
I shook my head and for once was glad I was married, sort of. “I’m married.” I held up my left hand.
He shrugged. “I’m married too. We can dance.”
Really? “Thank you, but no.”
“Aw…come dance with me. I’m good dancer.” He swiveled his hips. “See. Come.” He reached out his hand toward me again, but this time he was shoved back hard.
“That’s my wife,” Ryan growled at the man.