And he only makes that feeling grow.
I wake up the next day to find an open suitcase at the bottom of my bed – full of clothes in my exact size. Designer ones. I pull out a gorgeous little black dress with a Versace label attached, and I shake my head as Jason steps out of the shower.
"You really didn’t have to do any of this,” I say.
"I know I didn’t have to. But seeing you in that dress is going to make it more than worth it, don’t you think?”
I get dressed in the new dress and slip into a pair of the red-soled shoes he’s bought for me, and we go for breakfast. I feel like a princess; there’s just no other way to describe how he’s indulging me right now. He buys me coffee and croissants and then takes me to the Musee de l'Orangerie, where the two of us take in the gorgeous pieces of art and admire the gardens.
That evening, he takes me to a beautiful little restaurant that serves the most delicious wine, and we sip and reminisce about the old days. He doesn’t seem to have issues with alcohol anymore, and I find myself relaxing into this, letting the tipsiness get the better of me. Under the table, his hand slips over my leg, and I can’t help but flutter my lashes at him. Already, I know that a single fuck isn’t going to come close to sating me, not after that last one we had.
We just make it back to the hotel before he rips the dress off of me and throws me down onto the bed again. This time, he buries his head between my legs, goes down on me until I’m leaking wetness and trembling with pleasure, then pushes his cock into me.
We sleep wrapped up in each other’s arms that night, the wine and rush of emotions making me relaxed and blissful. When I wake the next morning, he’s already in the shower, and I can’t resist sneaking in to surprise him. He lifts me up, pins me against the wall beneath the running water, and fucks me so hard that my cries echo around the small space.
As I snuggle up on the bed drinking coffee while he gets dressed, I have to remind myself that this is just a fantasy. Just a date. Nothing more than that. I need to keep that right at the front of my mind, more than anything else. Yes, this might feel magical, but it’s only a weekend. At the end of this, I’m going back to my husband. No matter how far from him I might feel in this moment, tomorrow night I am going to fall asleep next to him with our son in the next room, just like I always do.
But for the Sunday that I still have here in Paris, I can’t help but indulge myself. By the time I’m dressed, Jason has a limo waiting for us, and it sweeps us all the way down to Notre Dame, where I gaze up at the gorgeous stained-glass windows. Light filters through them, covering the ground below us with scatters of bright colour. I lean into Jason and smile. This feels so good, in a way that I am struggling to put into words. It feels right. And it’s taking everything in me not to turn around and tell him something I can’t take back.
That evening, he takes me for dinner at a small restaurant near the Moulin Rouge, and afterwards, we head to the classic nightclub for an evening together. There is an incredible dance performance on display, and I lean over the balcony of the box he hired so that I can see it properly. Nothing feels real – as if I must be imagining it. But it’s happening, and he’s making it happen for me.
This is what Jason does. It hits me, as he slips his arm around my waist as we walk back to the hotel later. This is what he does, and this is what he’s going to be able to keep doing. If I had stayed with him, he would have been able to show me this kind of life. I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a part of me that wonders if I made a mistake by letting him go.
But I push this thought to the back of my mind. I can’t let it get the better of me. Truthfully, I have no idea what Jason would have been like if we had stayed together. We were a mess when we were in a relationship, and it wouldn’t surprise me to know that we would have stayed that way, too. We needed to get out of each other’s way if we were going to grow into the people we are today.
And the people we are today… Well, we match. I can’t deny it, much as I’d like to. Some part of me had hoped there nothing at all left between us. That would make going back to Sean so much easier. But there is still something here, something more intense than I’ve ever experienced, and I love it as much as I hate it.
That evening, we go back to the hotel, and he kisses me in the doorway of our room and holds me close for a long moment, as though he is taking in every part of me. I know how he feels. This will be over all too soon, and when it is, we’ll be back in the real world, with our real lives. For me, with my real husband and my real son.
"I’ve had an amazing time this weekend," he murmurs, and I squeeze my arms around his waist.
"Me too," I reply. It doesn’t feel big enough to capture everything that I’m feeling, but it will have to do for now. He tilts my chin up so that I am facing him and leans down to kiss me – and before I know it, the two of us are tangled in the sheets again, hands moving hungrily over each other like we are the only people in the world that matter.
We wake early the next day to catch the train, and I look longingly at the suitcase of all the clothes that he bought for me. I can’t bring them all home with me. Sean will be suspicious, and I don’t want him asking questions about this trip. The fact that he has given me a whole weekend is already more than I could ever ask for. And he’s only doing it because he is sure I am going to come back to him.
On the train back, I find it hard to make conversation. It’s difficult to know what to say, when all I want to do is plead with him to let this last a little longer. It’s over – over, the way it’s meant to be, the way that I intended it to be over when I started all of this. And yet…
At the station, he kisses me on the cheek, and I inhale the scent of him once more, losing myself in it.
"Thank you for this weekend," I murmur.
He smiles as he pulls back. "Thank you for letting me give it to you.” He looks at me for one last moment, a long stare that seems so loaded with everything that we want to say.
"I’ll be seeing you soon," he says softly. And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away.
I catch the tube back to my place, my head spinning. What does he mean, he’ll be seeing me again soon? He knows that if he walks back into my life after everything that’s happened, he is going to tear it apart. I can’t hide how I feel about him if Sean is right there with me, and I don’t know that I want to...
I push these thoughts away, locking them in a dark chamber deep inside my head. It’s over. That’s what I need to remember. It’s over, and I have a family and a life to get back to. This excursion with the Weekend Club is behind me now, once and for all, and I need to focus on getting back to the real world again.
Even if the memories of Paris are going to keep me up for some long, long nights.
We’ll always have Paris, I think to myself, and laugh woodenly.
