Page 48 of Silver Lining (The Diamond Trilogy 3)
His green eyes twinkle. “Hard to say,” he says. “There are more interesting things in the room. She caught my eye years ago in this very spot. I couldn’t stop looking at her.”
It’s so strange and shimmering, standing here with him. I half-expect to see a younger version of myself waiting here with a younger version of him. Me pretending to be cool. Him in his museum security clothes. So much space between us.
“I want to do this,” I say.
“This?”
“The tourist stuff. That’s what I want to be in Paris. A tourist. Not someone on the run, with secrets. Not someone with the military closing in. I want to see every sight and go to every tourist trap and buy a bunch of cheesy keychains that cater only to tourists.”
“Okay, and we should definitely only speak English.”
That one makes me giggle, because Elijah’s French is flawless. He can actually tailor his accent as if he were from the north or south, if he’s in the upper classes or a working man. He blends in effortlessly here, but it would be funny to see him as the bumbling tourist instead.
We take an Uber to Notre Dame, which wasn’t on our visiting list when I came here as a teenager. A hushed sort of quiet greets us as we enter the church. The intricate ceiling and stained glass draw my eyes upward. We’ve spent a fair amount of time in churches, Elijah and I, but usually in their basements. There are multiple little stands to light candles, and I stop at every single one, dropping in a small donation and selecting a thin, waxy candle.
I didn’t come from a religious family, which is ironic. My father was actually a priest before he met my mother, but he fell out of the church, disillusioned and disgraced. Our childhood was loving with easter eggs and warm yuletide traditions, but there was never a sermon to attend on Sundays, never prayers before bedtime. So I’m not even sure I’m doing it right, this prayer thing, but I close my eyes when I light each candle, sending up silent gratitude to whoever looks down on us for keeping Elijah safe, for letting him find his way to me.
We take a photo in front of the Eiffel Tower and marvel together at its size. I’m too crowd averse to take the elevators up, but we do take plenty of photographs. We play with the distance and perspectives, pretending that he’s holding the Eiffel Tower on his shoulders, pretending I’m squeezing the whole thing between my thumb and forefinger.
The photos are goofy and out of focus, exactly like they should be for tourists.
They’re nothing like the glossy-magazine videos that London takes. She started posting on Instagram again but her TikTok has really taken off. The reveal of her role in the scandal only heightened her celebrity. She has an actual page on Wikipedia now. The good stuff gets posted to social media, but she still sends funny outtakes direct to my phone.
We walk through the shops on Champs-Élysées and pick up lotions and scarves for outrageous amounts of Euros until my feet hurt so much that Elijah insists on carrying me to the car.
He doesn’t let me get out of bed until the next morning.
On the fifth day of our honeymoon I find a new dress on the bed when we come back from an afternoon visiting Sacré-Cœur. “Are you taking me on a date?”
Elijah gives me a mysterious look and turns the next hour into a fun game involving me trying to get ready and him trying to interrupt the process with orgasms. He only stops when a glance at his watch tells him that we’re going to be late.
I slap him on the shoulder when the car pulls up in front of a large white building with high arches and an elaborate facade. A crowd of well-dressed people enter the front doors.
“Where are we?”
“The Théâtre de la Ville.”
My eyes widen when I take in the poster announcing tonight’s presentation. A world class violinist. Samantha Brooks. I’ve only met her once, at the small civil ceremony that wed Elijah and me. “You didn’t tell me your brother was going to be here.”
“They had the concert booked a long time ago. Liam was going to leave me alone. He said we didn’t have to come, but I told him I could stop fucking you for a couple hours, probably. It will be a hardship, but I’m willing to do it for family.”
My cheeks heat. “You did not say that to him.”
“Of course I did, though now that I think about it, what’s the point of going without? I’m sure we can find a nice quiet, dark place behind some velvet curtains somewhere.”
It’s not only one of his brothers.
We meet Joshua and Bethany in the third row.
