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“I have an idea,” Lucy says as they walk away from the baggage carousel, reaching into the bag she’s just slung over her shoulder and tugging out a hard-cover library book.
“Just now, you had an idea?” Jack asks, eyebrow raising in a skeptical expression that she ignores.
“Yeah. Since Paris, um...” She fumbles the book open to the first of her bookmarks, finding her place on the page with her finger. “Yeah, Paris has ‘the number one public transport system in the world’, and the roads are...” She drags her finger down the page and pretends to read, “’A nightmare’, and you rented a car in Florence, and also I want to, I think we should forget about renting a car and use my favourite public service.”
They’ve made it to the other side of the hall now, and Lucy, nose still in the book, realizes that Jack has had her by the arm for however long and managed to keep her walking without numerous collisions. What a guy.
Looking up now, she watches his skeptical expression bounce from her, to the bags, and back up to her.
“Can we at least—“
Smiling, she turns, looking for the sign that will direct them to public transit, then turns again before she spots it and starts in that direction. She doesn’t need to look to know he’s right behind her, so she says, “There’s a bus that winds through the city, so we can see the sights,” and reaches out her hand for him to take.
He falls into step beside her easily, listing slightly to the other side as he holds her hand in one of his and the suitcase in the other.
The bus stop is outside, and it’s already fully dark by the time they get out there. Lucy leaves Jack at the ticket counter after ensuring the worker speaks English (not that she would have been able to help in any case), walking over to the pay phone against the wall. She pulls out her wallet and finds the long-distance calling card she bought for the trip.
“Y’ello?”
“Joey? We just landed.”
“Hey, Luce! Glad to hear it. All good?”
“Yeah, we’re good. About to get on the bus into the city.” Turning around, she looks for Jack and spots him a few feet away from the ticket counter, putting things away in his wallet. When he looks up, she waves, and he waves back with a smile.
“No way, really? Didn’t you get enough of buses here?”
“Don’t worry about it, Joey. Can I talk to her?”
“Sure, sure. She’s right here sleeping on the couch. I’ll put the phone down, just hang up when you’re done.”
There’s a slight rustling and then a soft thump, followed by silence. Lucy waits another second before cupping her hand around the mouthpiece of the phone and saying, “Hey, baby. Hope you’re doing good. I love you and miss you and we’ll be home soon. Be good for Uncle Joey.” Halfway through, she hears a faint purring through the phone and smiles, hanging up the phone.
Walking back over to Jack, she steps into his side and slips an arm around his waist, and he wraps a corresponding one around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her temple.
“Did you get to talk to her?”
“Yep. Seems like all is well.”
“Good. Now we can relax and enjoy our bus ride.”
“Our Paris bus ride.”
The bus pulls up then, and the doors open just as Jack says, “I’m sure French farts smell like Chanel No.5.” The driver gives them a look that could be dirty or simply confused, and Lucy snorts with laughter, accepting a ticket from Jack and paying her fare.
She walks down the middle of the bus, glancing around to find what looks exactly like every bus she’s ever been in. Nobody else is on board yet, so she picks a spot about halfway back and side-steps into the window seat. Sitting down, she loosens her scarf just as Jack sits down beside her.
“Thanks for humouring me,” she says, holding her hand out for him to take again.
“Of course.”
The bus sits at the curb for another ten minutes, then pulls away with that signature bus brake squeak. For a while they’re just driving through the airport, then along a generic dark highway, before finally winding into the city. Lucy leans in close to the window, watching the way the streetlights cast soft circles of yellow on the identical rows of buildings lining the street.
The city is beautiful at night, with lit storefronts pouring light onto the sidewalks and late shoppers. Paris has its own unique style, markedly different from both Florence and Chicago.
Looking back at Jack, Lucy smiles and then leans into him to say into his ear, “Now we don’t have to pay for a bus tour.”
They drive over the Seine and past the Louvre and Lucy tries not to press her nose to the window, eyes wide. When the bus stops at the Métro, they get off and go underground, and Lucy eyes everything carefully. The turnstile takes tickets in on one side and spits them back out on top, and Lucy tries to watch it work without disturbing other customers. Jack pulls her away before she can get in trouble.
“That’s cute,” she says, half-turning back, “but litter!”
“And where would I have put the ring?”
“Right?”
Down onto the platform, and when the train pulls in the doors don’t open, which provides Lucy with a momentary heart attack until she glances surreptitiously at the other passengers and realizes you have to open the latch on the door. She trades a look with Jack but they continue to pretend to not be tourists, and by the time they actually make it to their hotel they are worn right out.
Lucy flops down onto the bed without taking her shoes off, and Jack stays on his feet as he starts to unbutton his shirt.
“Change your mind?” he asks, and she cranes her neck to give him a dry look.
“About Paris or about you?” Before he has time to act mock offended she adds, “Kidding, kidding! I love Paris. And you.” He rolls his eyes, and she closes hers, tipping her head back. “I really love Paris. And you.”
By the time he makes it to bed, she’s asleep.