“Wow, you really went for the outer boundaries right away, didn’t you? I’m not going to make Rémy a rebound, Siena.”

  “Rebound is an American concept from an American sport. French men were created for this stuff! This is where they shine—showing women who’ve been stuck in the drudgery of an unfulfilling relationship how to zest life like a lemon. Didn’t you ever see Eat, Pray, Love?”

  My brow wrinkles. “Didn’t that take place in Italy?”

  “To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

  “Do not let Rémy hear you say that. Or any French person.”

  “I’m not saying you have to go crazy, Mads. I’m just saying to have fun. Knowing you, you’ll think you owe Josh some sort of official mourning period.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  “Good.”

  It’s not that I want to lash out at Josh and hurt him by moving on super fast. I’ve given the relationship enough of my time, though. Letting myself have some fun sounds pretty nice right now. And having that fun with Rémy?

  Chills ripple across the skin on my arms.

  “You’re leaving,” Siena says, “and he knows that. Both of you know it. It’s a great opportunity to dip your toe back into the world of being single, of having physical contact with other humans of the opposite sex.”

  My mind immediately goes to the hand-hold in the metro. I still don’t know what that meant, or if it meant anything, but I do know I was the one to break contact, which makes me second-guess my assumption that Rémy is dating Élise.

  A little ding tells me I’ve got a calendar reminder. I pull my phone away from my ear long enough to see it’s for the tickets I bought.

  “Ugh,” I say to Siena. “First, I’ve gotta see if I can find some people who can use these Eiffel Tower tickets. They’re non-refundable. If I hurry, maybe I can get some money for them.” Every dollar counts.

  “Madison Louise Allred,” Siena says in her most outraged voice. “You will do no such thing. You cannot go to Paris and not do the Eiffel Tower.”

  I hadn’t really thought about the fact that I could still use my ticket even if Josh and I aren’t going together. But now that Siena’s mentioned the idea, it feels like exactly what I should be doing—the perfect way to take life by the horns.

  I shiver at my own audacity. But I’ve got to take advantage of this mood while it lasts. “You’re right. I’m doing it.”

  “Atta girl! Send me a picture from the top. Hashtag accountability.”

  “I will.” My heart is racing with anxious anticipation. I’m really doing it. “Thanks, Siena. You’re the best.”

  “Love you, Mads. You’ve got this.”

  Once we’ve hung up, I look around me. The plaza is lined on all sides by classic, cream-colored Parisian buildings—Haussmannian, Rémy called them—and the street lamps are wound with Christmas greenery. The beauty of it makes me smile, even amidst all the uncertainty I’m feeling right now. I have no idea where I am, which is a pretty great metaphor for my life at the moment.

  My phone vibrates, and I’m preparing myself for a GIF from Siena—King Kong climbing the Eiffel Tower or something—but it’s not her, and my heart does a little skitter at the sight of the name.

  Rémy: How did it go?

  It in this context is clearly referring to the business lunch. Not that it matters. All of it went badly. But Rémy’s not asking about the stuff with Josh.

  Madi: Remember how I keep telling you Paris hates me?

  Madi: The lunch guy never showed up.

  Rémy: What?! That’s ridiculous.

  Rémy: I’m so sorry, Madi. I hope tonight with Josh makes up for it *smiley emoji*

  I stare at his text for a minute before responding. I could tell him Josh and I broke up, but for some reason, that thought makes my stomach twist up into a pretzel. I’ll just keep things vague and light.

  Madi: Josh can’t come tonight, but I decided I’m going to do the Eiffel Tower anyway. *nervous emoji* I just need to figure out how to get there now.

  I could easily give that job to Google Maps, but I don’t. Part of me doesn’t want to end this text conversation with Rémy. I’m curious, especially after all Siena said, and that curiosity has me jittery.

  Rémy: Where are you? I can tell you how to get there.

  I look around.

  Madi: By some statue.

  Rémy: *laughing emoji* So helpful. What statue is it?

  I get up and walk over to it, trying to make sense of the inscription, which is in French. I smile when I recognize a familiar name.

  Madi: George Washington *American flag emoji*

  Rémy: You’re joking, right?

  Madi: I never joke about the land of the free and the home of the brave. Do you know where I am just by a statue? I’m very impressed right now.

  Rémy: I don’t. But only because there are two George Washington statues in Paris.

  Madi: Ugh. You guys are so obsessed with us.

  I look around for any other evidence to give him. This is much more fun than Google Maps.

  Madi: Washington is hanging out with some French guy

  Rémy: . . . Le Marquis de Lafayette?

  Madi: Maybe . . . *GIF of dramatic nodding head*

  Rémy: *GIF of unamused dog and the word Really?*

  Madi: What?

  Rémy: You are at Place des États-Unis—United States Plaza.

  Madi: Oh my gosh. Are you serious?!

  I’m grinning like a fool right now. I couldn’t have planned this better.

  Madi: My internal GPS brought me home.

  Rémy: *GIF of a mosquito flying right into a bug zapper*

  Madi: *GIF of gleaming stairway to heaven*

  Madi: So where do I go for the best view of the tower?

  Rémy: My favorite place is Port Debilly. You can easily walk there from where you are—it should only take fifteen minutes or so. Once you get there, take the stairs just southwest of the bridge down to the bank of the river.

  Rémy: I recommend getting there at 4:50 for the best views.

  Madi: That seems like an oddly specific time, but okay. Thank you!

  I hesitate for a second, thinking of inviting him to come with me. But he’s with Élise, and if I want to keep the momentum of this mood, being shot down is not the best way forward.

  I write out a text telling him to have fun with Élise, only to delete it. It was a lame way of getting him to tell me whether they’re still together right now, and whether she’s the “friend” he has plans with tonight. What is wrong with me?

  Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. I’m a new woman today. Everything is right with me.

  I glance at the time—4:15—then put my phone in my camera bag. Time to conquer Paris.

  I’m sitting on the banks of the Seine, my feet dangling over the cement walkway while I stare and stare and stare at the Eiffel Tower. The sky behind me has turned colors as the sun sets, enveloping the tower, the bridge, the trees across the river, and the boats floating along the water in an orange glow.

  What is this place?! I can’t even comprehend that I’m actually sitting here right now. Are all the other people around me as paralyzed with wonder as I am?

  I look to my side, then behind me. There are a few people looking at the tower from the street above, but for the most part, people are just going on with their lives.

  I press the button to light up my phone screen. 4:45. I’m a bit early, not that I understand how five minutes will change this view—maybe the sunset will get even prettier? I’ve heard people talk about the Eiffel Tower sparkling, so maybe that’s what he’s talking about. I can’t really picture what that will be like—a big hunk of latticed metal sparkling?

  My eyes shift to my phone background. It’s been the same one forever—Josh and me at the county fair last year. I’m sitting on his lap, kissing his cheek while he grins at the camera.

  I open the camera app and frame the Eiffel Tower, the bridge, and the water just right, then bring my thumb to the shutter button just as the tower lights up orange.

  Whoa. Chills. No wonder Rémy told me to be here at 4:50. I mean, I wouldn’t really call this sparkling, but I guess in a metaphorical kind of way, it is. Either way, it’s stunning and much more subtle than I had expected. I press the shutter button, then bring up the screen asking whether I want to make it my lock screen and home screen.

  I don’t even hesitate because hesitation is against the rules today. And just like that, my background is the Eiffel Tower. I stare at it, tilting my head to the side and smiling as I accustom myself to it.

  Someone approaches, and I look up.

  “Hey, Stars and Stripes,” Rémy says.

  TWENTY-THREE

  RÉMY

  “Rémy!” Madi’s hair is still down, her lips untouched by red lipstick. She hurries up to her feet, and her mouth breaks into a huge smile. And then she hugs me.

  I’m so caught off guard, I freeze. I came here expecting Madi to be incredibly bummed. She left my apartment hoping for a job and a fiancé; she has neither at this point. I figured that, even if I couldn’t give her the night she was hoping for, I could make sure it didn’t suck as much as the rest of the day. It felt like a majorly pretentious thought at the time—it’s pretty hard to compete with career and marriage and the Eiffel Tower—but her reaction . . .

  Just as I’m about to wrap my arms around her—in a very platonic and nonchalant way, of course—she pulls back. “Oh, gosh. Sorry. That time at United States Plaza got me all mixed up. Cheek kisses, right?”

  I feel like a man who’s just been cheated. And I have no one to blame for it but myself since I’m the one who told Madi French people don’t hug. Now I’m getting les bises, which is a downgrade of serious proportions.

  She puts her hand on my shoulder, then stops, her eyes narrowing. “Which reminds me . . . why did you let me make a fool of myself the first time? I actually kissed your cheeks—with puckered lips, like an idiot.”

  Not my fault I’m looking at her lips now. She’s the one who mentioned them.

  She’s looking at me like I’m in trouble, though, and I can only laugh, because Madi is in a mood. I don’t know what it is, but she’s full of energy and . . . different. Not just different from what I expected—different from before. And each second, I’m feeling less caught off guard and more curious, more eager to encourage it. Especially if it means she might hug me again.

  Wrong of me? Maybe. But if this is how she processes the disappointments of the day, who am I to be the party pooper? I came to keep her mood up, and I plan on doing just that.

  I shrug, aware of her hands still on my arms. Impulse tells me to put mine on her waist, but I shake off that one because if I followed all my impulses, I would be in major trouble. Instead, I keep my arms glued to my sides and smile. “You were already dealing with a lot that day. I figured we could discuss specifics later.”

  “But we didn’t discuss specifics later.”

  “Why do you think I’m here?”

  She raises a brow. “You came all the way here right now to discuss les bises? Well, you’re too late. I’m already an expert on the cheek bumps now.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Cheek bumps? Sounds like another way to say acne. But okay. Let’s have it, then.”

  She accepts the challenge, pressing one cheek against mine, then the other, disappearing along with that perfume she’s wearing way too soon. She lets her hand drop from my shoulder and raises her brows at me, as if to say, So?

  “Not too bad,” I say.

  “Not too bad?” she repeats, crossing her arms. “It was perfect. So you can’t have come for cheek bump lessons.”

  Think I can convince her to give me American hugging lessons? Too on the nose?

  “What brings you here, then?”

  Because I will take any excuse to spend time with you, even if it means dropping what I was holding—literally—to run to the metro so I could be here before 5.

  It’s clear from the way she asks that she thinks I’m just stopping here for a quick hello, though. I almost tell her I was just passing on my way to hang out with friends. But that means I’d have to find something to do for the rest of the night and that I wouldn’t get to be with Madi. “I thought maybe you’d want some company.” I pause. “Do you?”

  She smiles, and my heart is doing a lot of things, one of which is feeling bad for Josh that he doesn’t get to see what I’m seeing right now. Who knew I could feel sympathy for the guy? Oh well. His loss.

  Madi sits back down like she was when I arrived, scoots over like there isn’t a hundred feet of free space on either side of her, then pats the spot next to her. I take a seat, but I hesitate about just where to land, which ends up putting us an awkwardly wide distance apart.

  She looks at me, one eyebrow cocked. “What, do I have the plague or something?”

  I laugh and scoot closer, maybe overcompensating a bit, which leaves our arms against each other. She doesn’t move away, though, so neither do I.

  “This place is amazing,” she says, looking at the Eiffel Tower.

  “I’m glad you like it.” And I really am. Though, to be fair, Madi doesn’t seem hard to please. She’s got an eye for beauty, ready to see it everywhere. Part of me wonders if that’s her secret—she’s so good at looking for the beautiful that she becomes it. “There are always a lot of people up on the street, but not as many come down the steps to this spot.”

  “Lazy Americans.” She winks at me. She’s killing me right now with this mood.

  Our legs are dangling over the edge, and she starts swinging hers.

  “Whoa,” I say, putting a hand on her knee. “Careful.”

  She looks over at me, and I pull my hand away. I’m crossing lines all over the place.

  “Don’t want you falling in,” I say. “I don’t know if your enthusiasm for Paris could survive a swim in the Seine.”

  She laughs and starts swinging her legs again. “And I thought I was the one with the irrational fears.”

  “Trust me. If you read the news stories and saw the types of things that float in this river, you’d have a healthy fear of it too.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “Ugh. Don’t tell me. Ignorance is bliss.” She closes her eyes and takes in a breath. “I’m just gonna imagine that the river is home to the healthiest metropolitan coral reef system on the planet.”

  I laugh, taking the opportunity to look at her. It’s getting darker by the minute, but the light from the Eiffel Tower, the street lamps, and the twinkle lights from the river cruise boats in front of us are enough. Once she’s engaged, I’ll feel worse about admiring Madi, but it would be criminal not to appreciate the beauty of this moment here.

  Plus, to be completely honest, I’m losing the will to care much about Josh. My concerns are for Madi. Someone’s should be, right?

  I look down at the dark water and cringe. “Yeah, because nothing says healthy coral reef like murky green water and slimy moss.”

  Her eyes open, and I pull away halfheartedly to avoid the elbow she tries to jab me with.

  “Actually, though, there have been a couple times when whales have wandered all the way down the Seine to Paris.”

  She stares at me with eyes open wide enough that I can see her brown irises and the reflection of the light in them. “So I’m not that far off with the reef system!”

  I clench my teeth, and her face falls. “What?”

  “It, um . . . didn’t go well for the whales. Murky green water and slimy moss, remember?”

  Just call me Dream Crusher.

  A few more people have joined us on the quay. I look over my shoulder and see even more lined up above us at street level. I check the time on my phone screen, glad that it’s almost time for something that won’t shatter Madi’s hopes and dreams. “So are you ready?”

  She raises her brows. “Ready for . . . ?”

  “It’s almost 5 o’clock.”

  Her brows pull together. “I thought you told me to be here at 4:50.”

  “That was just to make sure you didn’t miss it.”

  “It being . . . ?”

  I just smile and wait, while she stares at me like I’m crazy but also pretty interesting. I don’t mind.

  The time turns from 4:59 to 5:00.

  It only takes a second—the collective intake of breath behind us tips Madi off to the fact that something’s happening. I don’t even look at the Eiffel Tower. I don’t need to. I can see it all reflected in Madi’s eyes.

  Her head turns, her jaw slowly opens, and she goes completely silent, grabbing me by the arm like she needs something to stabilize her. I’m not even sure if she’s breathing right now.

  This. This is why I came. I would have hated to miss this.

  “This is so much better than Edward Cullen,” she says in a reverent whisper, her eyes glued to the tower.

  I want to give her this moment, but I can’t let a comment like that go. “Um . . . what?”

  Her eyes finally break away from the tower to look at me. “Please tell me you’ve seen Twilight.”

  “Nope.”

  She looks at me like I’m some alien creature. “But you’ve read the books, at least.”

  I chuckle.

  “Rémy. This is no laughing matter. I thought you were well-versed in American pop culture. Do you know what Twilight is?”