“Makes sense. If you’re just doing it for you, then just do it for you,” he says easily, shrugging his shoulders. “Then again, sometimes I find it helpful to think about successful people who are already doing the thing I want to do. That way—”

“Carly Mattsson.”

He blinks and then breaks out laughing. “You mean from B*Dazzled?”

I nod, a little embarrassed at my outburst.

“Huh, I would have pegged you as more of a Nikki Casey kind of girl,” he teases, referring to Carly’s groupmate who always wore crazy-high pigtails and hot-pink platform boots and is famous for dyeing her armpit hair electric blue for the Cannes Film Festival.

“Ha ha. But seriously, I saw Carly at the after-party yesterday and oh my god, Alex,” I sigh. “She’s perfection. Total goals. If I could do what she does—music and fashion while still making time for my family—that would be a dream.”

He thinks for a moment and then nods. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You’ll see what you can do?”

A cheeky grin lights up his face as he reaches his hand across the table. For a second, I think he might be trying to hold my hand, and my breath catches in my throat. My fingers twitch on the tabletop, but he passes my hand and picks up my empty mug.

“Well, first I’ll see what I can do about getting you a new drink,” he says. “And maybe a change of scenery. Shall we wander? Or are you flitting off to Charles de Gaulle tonight?”

“I don’t leave until tomorrow morning,” I tell him, “so I guess I’ve got to find something to do with myself until then.”

“Okay then. We can definitely think of something.”

I try not to flush at his words as he throws some money for the coffees on the table and offers an elbow. I take it.

From Montmartre, we take the metro down to Rue de Rivoli, popping into a few trendy boutiques. Then we cross the Pont d’Arcole and marvel at Notre Dame, regal against the sky. In Saint Germain we dip into Shakespeare and Company, looking at all the books in a variety of languages, then find a spot in the Luxembourg Gardens to read the ones we bought. Every so often, I find myself looking over my shoulder, gripped by the sudden fear that someone will see us together and recognize me. The stress of being exposed never completely leaves my mind, but it’s hard not to get swept up in the romance of the moment. Still, I always keep one eye out, mindful of who’s around me at all times.