While Louis watched Riley learn a valuable lesson, Alex and Debbie were enjoying their time in Paris. Despite the rocky start they had had to their trip, things seemed to be going well. They were learning a lot about how real estate was being handled in Europe, and they were beginning to understand how it might transfer to the market in the United States. As for their personal arrangements, they had grown accustomed to alternating sleeping on the floor, and sleeping in the bed. All in all, their friendship was starting to settle into a new rhythm.
After a long day of listening to lectures and seminars, and attending workshops, they left the convention center with a newfound sense of purpose and appreciation for the industry.
"Every time I think I know everything about real estate," Alex said as they left the convention center for the day, "I'm reminded of how much there is I don't know."
Debbie chuckled. "You mean like checking the walls for black mold before you put a house up for sale?"
"One time, that happened!" Alex said with mock agitation.
"What I don't understand," Debbie said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and looking up at him, "is how you missed the entire wall."
Alex shrugged. "It hadn't leaked through the wallpaper yet!"
The two of them laughed. That house had been a chore to fix up.
All of Alex's worries about this being the trip from hell had melted away after the initial few days. It was much more pleasant than either of them could have hoped for. Neither of them had expected that they would have broken up, then tried to be friends. So far, it seemed that friendship was working well for them.
They learned a lot more about real estate at the convention, and even had time to go to some more museums. Debbie wanted to see some of the historical sites, so they made their way to Versailles where they got some choice shots in the Hall of Mirrors.
Later that evening, as they were walking across the Champs des Mars, Debbie stopped to take a photograph with an art installation. She handed him her phone and got into position by one of the sculptures. It was a giant bear painted with the American flag. Alex took the picture, and she came over to view it. The giant American bear was at least twice her size.
"When was the last time you saw art like this in Baltimore?" she asked, looking at the picture. "Wow, Alex, that's a really good angle!"
Alex smiled and handed back her phone. "Thanks," he said, then he looked around at the installation. All of the statues were bears, all painted to look like different flags. "This installation really is something. I hope it makes its way to the States."
"So do I," she said, coming closer to him against the chill of the evening. "There's something really cool in it all. Something like unity."
Alex took one last, long look at the installation. "Yeah," he agreed. "Like, it doesn't matter if your bear wears a different flag, we're all bears. Let's bear up and eat some salmon!"
Debbie laughed. "Bear up and eat some salmon?"
"Isn't that what bears do?" Alex asked, completely serious. "I mean, they hibernate and stuff. Maybe they also eat hikers who wander into their dens."
Debbie eyed him and gave him a playful smile. "This isn't about bears, is it?" she asked.
Alex shook his head. "I was just trying to come up with some fancy interpretation on a bear-themed art installation," he said. "But speaking of salmon, do you want to go to the Eiffel Tower first? It's a long way up."
Debbie nodded, then wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
"That sounds like a good idea," she said, looking at the end of the Champs des Mars, where the Eiffel Tower towered over the rest of Paris. "Can you imagine going up there after eating? You'd probably lose your lunch from the altitude!"
"Or the vertigo," Alex said, cringing. He paused for a second. "I told you about the apartment at the top of the Eiffel Tower, right?"
Debbie took a big dramatic step away, and she looked at him with a shocked expression.
"I'm the one who mentioned that" she said, pointing at herself. "Me, myself, and I. I mentioned, quite off-handedly, if I do say so myself, at dinner the other night, that I had heard a rumor that there was an apartment at the top of the Eiffel Tower." She stopped and took a deep breath. "If you want to go ahead and take credit for a rumor I so casually mentioned, then by all means. But just remember to give credit to the woman who mentioned it, off-handedly, at dinner the other night."
"Hmm," Alex muttered, looking up at the darkening sky. "Did you say you mentioned it off-handedly? And that you mentioned it off-handedly the other night? I can't quite remember."
Debbie gave him a playful smack on the arm, and the two made their way toward the Tower. As if by a stroke of luck, there was no line. Alex produced their tickets from the inside of his jacket, and the ticket taker checked their reservation against his system.
He looked between Debbie and Alex, offering a professional smile, as he opened up the partition rope and let them through. They rode the elevator all the way to the top in comfortable silence. Alex closed his eyes, trying to adjust to the changing altitude. The Eiffel Tower was about 1083 feet from the ground to the tip. When they got out of the elevator, they were at about 906 feet above ground.
They stepped onto the viewing platform. It had been covered in bird wire as a safety precaution, and to prevent birds from landing on or harassing tourists. Although it wasn't late at night, the Tower would normally have been buzzing with tourist activity. Much to Debbie's surprise, it was quiet.
Debbie went over to the railing, the gentle breeze disturbing her long hair, and gripped it.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the cold Parisian air. Then, she opened her eyes, and Paris, the City of Lights, was illuminated before her. It was like looking at the reflections of the stars in the night sky. Her breath caught in her chest; she was so overwhelmed by the sheer beauty. There was nothing like this in Baltimore. Probably the closest she could get in America was the Empire State Building. But still. not Paris at night.
She turned to Alex and smiled.
"It's so quiet up here," she said, in awe of their luck. "You did something. Tell me."
A faint blush crept up Alex's cheeks. "I reserved the Tower," he admitted, his eyes darting away from her.
Debbie was both impressed and concerned. It wasn't unlike Alex to invest a lot of money into a grand gesture like this. If they were still dating, Debbie might have found the gesture romantic. However, they were trying to remain friends, and Debbie wondered if Alex might be trying to use his wealth to drive them back together.
Be careful, Debbie thought. Reserving the entire top of the Eiffel Tower doesn't necessarily mean he wants to try to get us back together.
She hoped that that was the case. She turned away from Alex and looked across Paris. A fog was starting to settle in, obscuring the view of the city. More and more, Debbie found that she was craving not just Alex's company, but his touch. She missed him, although she could never admit to that. The time and place were far too convenient.
Alex took a deep breath and held out his hand. "Come on," he said, "I have something to show you."
Debbie took his hand and he led her around the viewing platform, to a door on the other side. He knocked on it three times, and the door opened, revealing a man in a maître d' uniform. He welcomed them inside the small apartment, and Debbie's heart skipped a beat
The apartment at the top of the Eiffel Tower was small and homey, but it had been strung with fairy lights and a table had been set for two. Romantic music was playing somewhere in the background. A familiar smell wafted through the apartment, making Debbie's mouth water. She turned to Alex, both excited and a little concerned.
"Ratatouille?" she asked.
Alex smiled coyly. "You did mention that you liked the movie."
The maître d' seated them, and said in heavily accented English, "The chef has prepared tonight's meal special for monsieur et madame."
He went off into the kitchen, and a few moments later, a chef walked out. He didn't look familiar in the slightest, but Alex greeted him like an old friend.
"Pierre," he said with a broad smile. "Thank you so much for agreeing to this."
"It was my pleasure, monsieur," said the chef, Pierre. "Tonight, you will enjoy a simple, three-course meal. A starter of ratatouille, an entree of peppered steak, and a dessert of profiteroles. The maître d' will serve a pre-selected wine along with each course."
"That sounds marvelous, Pierre," Alex said politely. Pierre went back into the kitchen.
Debbie turned to Alex, a tight feeling in her stomach. "Alex," she asked. "What's going on?"
Alex looked away from her briefly, then clasped his hands on the table.
"Debbie," he said, "this trip has been amazing."
Oh no, Debbie thought. But, her heart was fluttering, thinking Oh yes.
"I've been trying to think of how to say this," he said, "but do you think it's possible that we could try getting back together?"
There it was. What Debbie had both longed for, and dreaded. As much as she wanted to say yes, she knew that she couldn't do it.
"I'm sorry, Alex," she said, getting up from the table. "I've loved every minute of this trip, too, but we're barely even friends." Her voice started to crack, and tears threatened to fall. "I'm sorry." She uttered, then she turned around and left the apartment, got into the elevator, and descended the Tower.
Alex sat in the apartment, shaken, not sure what to think. Pierre, having heard the commotion, came out bearing a bottle of wine. He rested a hand on Alex's shoulder. Alex looked up at him.
"Well," he said weakly, "a guy has to try, am I right?"
Pierre looked at him with deepest sympathy. "The stomach, it is fickle," he said, "but the heart? The heart is unforgiving."