"An adventure?" I glide my hand from my lap onto his thigh. "When did you decide that we were going to Paris?"
"The day you told me about the internship."
I snuggle closer to him on the bench. It's mid-morning and after he'd said goodbye to Cleo, we'd walked out of the hospital hand-in-hand. We didn't have a clear destination and as soon as we walked into Central Park and saw the vacant bench, we both motioned towards it at the same time.
"You're giving up a lot to go there with me." My voice is laced with not only appreciation, but awe.
Adjusting himself, he crosses his long legs. "You would be giving up more by staying here and since I can't be away from you, I need to be there. I have to go with you."
We haven't spoken about the financial aspects of a three-month move around the world. The internship offers a small monthly stipend, which includes housing for me and my companion. I have enough saved to cover meals and transportation but I doubt that Dane will stand idly by while I pull out my wallet each time we go to a café or purchase a bottle of wine.
"You'll live with me in the housing they provide, won't you?" My heart races a little as I ask. It's obviously the most economical way for us to be together there but it's also a major step in our relationship.
His arm tightens around my shoulder. "We'll live together. I'll help you with all your other expenses. I'll cook for you and every day when you're done at the art school, I'll be waiting outside the door to walk you back to our place."
"I can cover a lot of the expenses," I say sheepishly. I have no idea what his salary was at the firehouse. I know that since he won't be working for the next few months that he'll be dependent on his savings for necessities. I'm not about to allow him to eat through that so I can follow my own life's dream of being an artist.
"Bridget." He cradles my hand in his as he brings it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Maisy and I came to an agreement."
"An agreement?" I don't feel an ounce of hesitation as I ask. It's different now. I've met Maisy and that has given me insight I didn't have a day ago. She's not the evil, self-centered creature I conjured up in my mind. She's a woman. She's just a woman who loved Dane once.
He sighs. "She wouldn't leave the house because she didn't want to give up her investment in it. She admitted last night that it was because she was pissed at me for leaving. I knew it. It was obvious but I'm glad she finally gave up."
"I know the house was sold."
"You do?" He tips my chin back with his hand so he can look at me directly. "How do you know that?"
"I went there this morning," I admit with a weak grin. "I took the subway to Queens. It's a nice house, Dane."
"It sold within hours after it was listed." A ghost of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "I kept everything looking great when I lived there."
I reach up to touch his cheek. "I can see why you loved it."
He straightens his back. "It was my home but it's sold now and Maisy agreed to take a small percentage of the sale price. I wanted her to have that. We shared expenses and at one time it felt like our house, not just mine."
I give him an empathetic nod. It's the last chapter in a love story that didn't have a happy ending. They're parting on good terms and with respect for each other which is more than many couples have when their love dies.
"I'm going to investment most of that money but I'll use some for our Paris adventure."
My heart is pounding as I look up into his dark brown eyes. "We're really going to do this?"
"We are," he growls. "We're going to start our life together there, Bridget. It's the life we were always meant to have."
I smile as I reach up so his lips can find mine for a kiss that speaks of the promise of every tomorrow that awaits us.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
"Your landlord hasn't rented out your apartment while you’ve been gone, has he?" He leans back onto the sheets of the bed. "We have a place to live in New York, right?"
"Maybe," I tease with a serious expression and a half-shrug of my shoulder.
He cocks a dark brow before running his hand over his beard. "What does that mean?"
"Have I told you how young you look with that beard?" I stroke my hand across his jaw. "I like it a lot."
"You think I look young?" He pulls the sheet over his naked groin. "How old do I look?"
"Old enough to be a dad." I pat my stomach. "When we get back to Manhattan we'll see that doctor Cleo recommended and we'll find out if we're having a daughter or a son."
"It's a boy." He leans forward to cup his hand over mine. "I know it's a boy."
I know that too. I'd seen a doctor here in Paris after I missed my period shortly after we arrived here. I knew before he told me that I was pregnant, that the baby had been conceived the night Dane left the airplane ticket on my pillow. I'd felt different when I woke up the next day and that feeling of pure joy and contentment had only gotten stronger after we'd moved here and decorated the small studio apartment the school had provided for us.
"It is a boy," I whisper as I look down at the gentle curve of my belly. I'm barely starting to show and unless someone knew that there was a life growing within me, they wouldn't guess that I was expecting a child with the man I love.
He moves even closer, resting his cheek against mine. "Did the doctor tell you that, Bridget?"
"No," I say honestly. "I feel it but I'll be so happy if it's a girl too."
Dane swallows hard and nods his head as he taps his chest. "Me too."
I stare at the tattoo on his chest. He's explained it's meaning several times but I've never asked him to translate what each word means. It's a German poem that his mother wrote for him and his brother when they were toddlers. I'll meet his brother when we get back to New York. Dane's insistence on getting him to attend our wedding paid off when Landon called to say he'd be there, all Dane had to do was name the time and place.
"Zoe will pick us up at the airport," I say quietly. I hate to leave this place. We only have one more week here before we have to head back to the lives we left behind. My portraits had been so well received here that I've been granted a gallery showing of my own back in New York. I've started to garner the attention of art collectors across the globe and the biggest supporter through all of it has been Dane.
He cups my face in his hands. His right thumb brushes over my cheek. "I told my mother that I was going to marry you once we got back to New York."
"What did she say?"
"She was happy." A small smile takes over his mouth. "She told me she was happy for us."
I believe him. Anja has come to Paris twice since we've been here and although the first visit was filled with silent pauses and awkward glances, she'd taken the time to get to know me. She'd come to my first gallery showing here and had greeted my parents with a quick embrace and thoughtful words about how talented she thought I was.