Love Locks. Cory Martin
guess this is us,” Lindsey said as they emerged from the cab, taking it all in.
“It is us. It’s perfect,” Alexa said, and Lindsey agreed. The hotel looked like the kind of place you read about in novels where luminaries of years past met for drinks to discuss grand ideas.
“Of course it’s perfect. Hugo recommended it,” Lindsey said with a smile. Even though she hadn’t yet seen him, she could already feel Hugo’s presence.
“I like him already,” Alexa said as she walked around the car to the hotel. She looked ready to say more when she looked up and found herself face-to-face with the bellhop, a French boy about her own age. She froze.
“Welcome to Paris,” he said with a wink.
“Merci,” Alexa said in her best French accent, then lingered for a second longer.
Lindsey noticed the way Alexa couldn’t stop staring at the Frenchman’s chiseled chin and light brown hair. The expression on her daughter’s face was probably the same one she’d had when she first met Jack. Lindsey sighed. How could this be happening so soon?
Alexa walked toward her with a smile that wouldn’t stop. “I mean, really? Already? We just landed,” Lindsey whispered.
As they entered the hotel, Lindsey watched Alexa turn around to find that the bellhop had not taken his eyes off her. Her grin got even bigger. She gave him one last look, then followed Lindsey inside.
The interior of the hotel was even more charming than the exterior. Ornate wood moldings framed the wallpapered walls. Velvet drapes hung from the windows and gold frames held oil paintings that looked to be well over several hundred years old. Large leather chairs sat across from the front desk, and the small entrance opened into an ivy-laced courtyard in the center of the hotel.
“Bonjour. Bienvenue a’ L’hôtel,” the desk clerk said.
Alexa opened her mouth to respond, but Lindsey beat her to it. In perfect French, she said, “Thank you, what a beautiful place. We have a reservation for Wilson, please.”
“Impressive. And why is your French better than mine?” Alexa asked.
“Because you stopped in twelfth grade?”
Alexa looked perplexed. “Not to worry,” the desk clerk said. “Our staff speaks English.”
“Good to know,” Alexa said.
The clerk searched for the reservation, then turned to Lindsey. “Ah, yes. Your friend Monsieur Hugo had you upgraded to a suite.”
“That’s so nice,” Lindsey said. His thoughtfulness didn’t really surprise her. Many times, Hugo had brought her dinner at the studio so that she could paint well into the night with no interruptions.
“Unfortunately, your room won’t be ready for a few hours.”
“That’s okay,” Alexa said. “We don’t need a room. We’re in Paris!”
Lindsey gave a knowing look to the desk clerk. “She’s never been here before.”
“It’s okay. I love when people love my city as much as I do,” the clerk said. Alexa shot her mom an I-told-you-so look. “Go. Explore. Enjoy the city. I’ll call you when your room’s ready. Do you need a map?”
“No. She used to live here,” Alexa told the clerk.
“Ah, then you understand your daughter’s enthusiasm. No?”
Lindsey smiled. “I guess I do.” She recalled her first day in the city, when she’d arrived alone with two suitcases and enough francs to get her to her dorm. Once she’d settled in, she knew she’d be able to access the bank account her parents had set up for her, but until then, she remembered feeling like she was finally on her own. That there was a certain type of magic in the air that would change her life forever.
Today she felt that, too, but the change that was coming scared her. She wasn’t ready to have her daughter so far away. She wasn’t ready to give up POV. What would she do alone in her Brooklyn tower? And what would she do with her life without the magazine?
“Is there somewhere we can get a coffee?” Alexa asked the desk clerk, then pointed to her mom. “This one didn’t sleep much.”
“Of course. Go out the door, turn left. Three doors down, there’s a little café. Ask for Max and tell him you’re a guest of the hotel. He’ll give you a discount.”
“Thank you,” Lindsey said. “We’ll see you in a little bit.”
Alexa bounded out the door of the hotel with Lindsey in tow. After they got their coffees, they started walking down the street outside the café. Lindsey wrapped her hands around the coffee cup, appreciating its warmth, but the day wasn’t really that cold for January. They’d gotten lucky with the mild weather and the bright winter sunshine.
“You know, I have no clue where we are. You have to lead us,” Alexa said as she stepped to the side and gestured for Lindsey to walk ahead.
“It would be my pleasure. Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the Arc de Triomphe? I mean, I know we passed it on the ride in, but I want to see it up close. Or the Place de la Concorde.” Alexa paused, then pulled out her notebook with the to-see list.
“What about the Louvre?” Lindsey asked. The museum was still one of her favorite places in the entire city.
“I don’t know. Do we want to save the Louvre till our last day together?”
Lindsey stopped in her tracks, wilting inside. “Can we not use the phrase, ‘last day together?’”
It must have shown on the outside, too, because Alexa said, “You’re not allowed to get sad yet. We have almost a week.”
“It’s only four days,” Lindsey said matter-of-factly.
“A lot can happen in four days,” Alexa said as they crossed the street to have a perfect view of the Seine. The tableau in front of them was similar to the one depicted in the painting that had hung in their place all those years. Both mother and daughter took it all in.
“I know what we should do. We should go to that ‘love locks’ bridge. Do you know where it is?” Alexa asked.
Lindsey stiffened and turned to her. Does she know something?
Alexa frowned. “Don’t give me that look, like I just asked you to visit someone in prison. I asked to visit a place of love. Doesn’t it sound romantic?”
“It’s a bridge. With locks,” Lindsey said. The image of her and Jack staring over the railing as their lock fell to the bottom of the river flashed through her mind. A heavy feeling pressed on her chest. “There’s nothing special about it.”
“But those locks are symbols of people pledging their love to each other,” Alexa said wistfully.
Lindsey couldn’t deny that fact, but she couldn’t face the bridge. At least not today, and certainly not before three more cups of coffee… or maybe two glasses of wine. Even then, she’d probably prefer to go anywhere else. “That’s true, but…”
“But what?”
“How many of those people are still together today?” Lindsey asked.
“All of them. In some way,” Alexa said.
Lindsey smiled at her daughter’s hopeful thought. When Lindsey and Dane had divorced, she’d done her best to shield Alexa from the truth about their love—that it had one day fizzled up and died. For Alexa, love was still special. “I probably said that very thing once,” Lindsey said.
“Well, everyone’s supposed to fall in love in Paris, aren’t they?” Alexa asked.
“Yeah, until they go back to their real lives.”
“Wait.”