CHAPTER TWO
AVERY
All my life, I'd dreamt of traveling abroad. I wanted especially wanted to see Paris. As the oldest of five children, living with a single father who could hardly support all of us after my mother died, it seemed like a dream I might never achieve. Yet, there I was, preparing to board a private jet to Paris, and not just to visit – but to live. Better yet, I'd be getting paid for it as well.
I had to resist the urge to pinch myself for the thousandth time. No, I was not dreaming. This was really happening.
Spencer and the girls were waiting for me at the terminal. Maisie ran up to me the moment she saw me emerge from the crush of people, wrapping her arms around my waist. We'd spent a little more time together after I'd officially been hired, and already, the most social of the Sullivan girls was attached to me. Lola smiled, which was genuine, and I thought, a good sign from the shy, reserved girl. She stayed by her father's side, however, holding his hand. Her pink suitcase sat at her feet. Maisie's was purple and sat beside her father as the two of us walked over to them together, hand in hand.
Spencer Sullivan smiled at me, and my insides tied themselves in knots. I'd heard about his chiseled jaw and sculpted abs in the tabloids – you really couldn't pick up a magazine or turn on the news without seeing Spencer Sullivan somewhere. But, until I'd seen him in real life, with my own two eyes, I'd had no real idea he was as gorgeous as he was.
He was the cliché tall, dark and handsome man, with hair that was nearly black, and light gray eyes. He was one of the tallest men I'd ever met, and easily one of the most handsome too. His strong, well-defined jawline that was almost all angles, almost seemed contradictory to his downright kissably soft lips – and yet, he made it work. He made it work very well, in fact.
Spencer was very nice on the eyes, and after seeing how good he was with his daughters, how much he doted on them – I felt like I could fall in love with him, even if he was about ten years older than I was. I always did have a thing for older, more established men though.
My best friend, Veronica, often teased me about having a daddy complex because my own father had hardly been around when I was growing up. He worked too much, trying to support us, which left a lot of the child care to me. Roni said my fascination with older men was because I desired someone to take care of me for once, since I'd spent most of my life taking care of others.
Maybe she was right. Or, maybe she was full of crap. I really didn't know.
Roni would have given me the hell if she'd seen the way I looked at Spencer, though. That much I knew for sure. To be fair, I felt like a little girl in puppy love. I knew it was wrong, knew there was no way we could ever be together, but I still couldn't help the warmth – or the wetness – that grew inside of me every time I looked at him.
“Good morning, Avery,” Spencer said, his lips pulling back to showcase a made-for-TV, perfectly white smile. “I hope you're ready for the big move?”
“I am,” I said, my cheeks burning. “I've been ready ever since I was a little girl, to be honest. This is a dream come true for me.”
His smile reached his eyes, and they sparkled for a fragment of a second. “I think you're really going to enjoy it,” he said. “Paris is one of my favorite cities. It's absolutely stunning.”
“I have no doubt I'm going to enjoy it,” I said.
I've always found everything about France to be beautiful; the history, the language, the architecture – everything. It was why I'd studied French in college and made it my minor to my Education degree. I knew that it was the only way I’d be able to make a living with it. Now this opportunity had been thrust upon me, and I was truly going to live out my wildest dream. I could hardly quell the butterflies at play in my stomach. I followed Spencer and the girls out to the tarmac where the jet was waiting for us. Although they walked with the confidence of people who'd done it a thousand times, I felt a little awkward bypassing the terminal and heading straight out to where the planes were. It felt so exclusive, so fancy – and so not me.
Spencer had stepped aside, letting me go first, and as I climbed up the steps to the plane, that's when it hit me. That was the moment when I realized that was going to be the last time I'd have my feet on United States soil for a while A wave of the surreal washed over me as it dawned on me, a strange feeling making my stomach churn. If all went well, I might not be back for a good, long while. As much as I would miss my family, my siblings were all grown and were enjoying their own lives now. It was time for me to finally live mine too.
I was the first one to step foot on the plane, and I gasped. I'd only flown a couple of times, all domestic flights, and I remember being crammed in like a bunch of sardines. However, this was traveling in true luxury. With spacious leather seats that had enough room to lie completely flat, you had room to spread out – and you didn't have to fight over the armrest with anyone either. Each person had plenty of space to spread out and be comfortable. There was a total of eight seats, as far as I could tell, plus a mini bar set up on one side of the jet made of a dark, cherry wood finish.
A petite blonde woman smiled as we boarded. She handed me a glass of champagne and a cloth napkin.
“If you need anything, please let us know, Ms. Porter,” she said, her tone professionally pleasant.
Ms. Porter. Champagne. A fancy private jet. A girl could get used to traveling like that.
“Thank you,” I said. I tried to look for a name tag, but there wasn't one.
“Mindy,” she said. “My name is Mindy and I'll be your stewardess for this flight. If you need extra pillows, blankets, or anything at all, please don't hesitate to buzz me.”
I thanked her and walked on by, letting Maisie and Lola push past me and claim two window seats across from each other. The girls looked excited to fly, or at least Maisie did. It was hard to tell with Lola sometimes. She stared out the window, no smile or any sense of emotion on her face. Maisie was kicking her feet and singing a made-up song that only she knew the words for, obviously eager to get started on our adventure.
Spencer was now behind me, his own glass of champagne in hand.
“Take a seat, any seat you like,” he said. “You don't have to sit with us, if you'd prefer a window seat or some privacy.
“No, that's fine, actually. I want to be here for the girls,” I said. “I intend to sleep a bit though, if you don't mind? To try and get ahead of the jet lag as much as possible so I can hit the ground running when we land.”
“Wise choice,” he said.
I took the seat next to Maisie, assuming that Lola would be more comfortable sitting beside her father. Maisie instantly started jabbering away.
“I love Paris,” she said. “Do you think we'll see the Eiffel Tower from the plane, Avery?”
“I don't know,” I muttered, my stomach fluttering with butterflies.
I think I was more excited than the girls were and was struggling to keep it in check. But, then again, it was my first time, so I tried to cut myself a little slack. I had reason to be excited. From the sounds of it, Maisie and Lola had already been countless times.
“It depends on how clear the sky is, Maisie,” Spencer said, winking at his daughter. “But you definitely should keep an eye out.”
Maisie nodded and turned back to me. “Can you teach me French now, Avery? I want to say hello to everyone.”
I laughed and started to agree, feeling like it was part of my job description to get them prepared for their new life immediately. But, Spencer stopped me.
“Let her rest for a bit, Maisie,” he said. “There will be plenty of time for lessons once we're settled in. For now, let's just enjoy the flight.”
Maisie pouted, and I almost told him it was alright, but her pouting fit passed quickly, and Maisie had already moved on to something else. She pulled out a tablet from her bag and began watching a show. Lola was also on her tablet. Both girls were content and quiet as the plane took off, leaving my home – and the United States – behind for good.
I sipped my champagne and watched New York slip away behind the clouds. I couldn't imagine anything in my life ever coming close to that moment in time.
***
My eyes fluttered open as the plane touched down. As soon as we were on the ground, I was fully awake, sitting up in my seat and staring out the window. All I could see was the small, private airport that we'd landed in. My hands were trembling with excitement and my tummy was churning hard. “We're here! We're here!” Maisie sang, wide awake as usual. “Avery, aren't you excited, we're here!”
“I'm very excited,” I said, giggling along with her.
Lola, on the other hand, didn't look so sure. She had a grip on Spencer's arm and stared out the window. Her eyes were large and serious, and I'd have given anything to know what she was thinking in that moment.
I knew it would take a little time to get to know her and be able to read her correctly. Lola would be a tough cookie to crack, especially if I was to help her with everything she'd been through so far.
The next few minutes were a blur, but I tried to soak it all in, holding on to every last sensation that came to me. Exiting the plane, I expected the air outside to feel or smell different. It was French air, not American. But, no, it was still just air, and I suppressed a small smile to myself at the ridiculous, even childish, expectation that it would be different.
The temperature outside the plane was a bit warmer than I was used to though, and there was humidity in the air from a storm that had passed through while we were in the air. I looked around and saw all of the signs in French, heard some of the crewmen on the tarmac speaking the language, and yet, it still somehow didn't feel real at all to me.
I was in Paris. I was actually in Paris.
I had to remind myself of that fact over and over again and was still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. It felt surreal, like I was walking through a dream, and I was going to wake up at any moment. I clung hard to it though, willing myself to stay asleep if it was all a dream.
A black limo pulled to a stop on the tarmac before us, and Spencer ushered us inside. My heart was racing, and I strained my neck to look out the window, trying to absorb every detail of the world as we passed it by.
I knew from talking to Spencer, that his house was just west of Paris. I'd done a little Googling of the area and found that it was in one of the higher-end suburbs. It allowed for more space, a larger house, and more privacy. As we pulled up to the house though, I was not prepared for what I saw. Nothing I found on Google did the place the least bit of justice.
I stepped out of the limo feeling lightheaded, and I swear there were stars in my eyes. It wasn't a house. No, it was an actual mansion that stood before me. Sure, Spencer lived in a mansion back in New York as well, but this was on a whole different level.
Maybe, it wasn't as large as the house in New York, and it definitely wasn't as modern, but the classic Parisian house had a historical feel to it. It was like walking into a fairy tale. It was a two-story white house with columns wrapping around a wide porch that lined the front and wrapped all the way around to the back. Ivy inched along the sides of the house, reaching the second story patio which was surrounded by wrought iron railings.
We walked up the front steps to the house, the heavy wooden door extended upward, all the way to the second floor, or so it seemed. Spencer unlocked the doors and we stepped inside.
As if I couldn't be more impressed with everything as it was – the doors opened to a luxury marble foyer with a vintage spiral staircase carpeted in burgundy with gold trim. While it should have looked gaudy, it didn't, especially paired with the hand-carved railings leading up to the second floor, which overlooked the entryway.
A massive ornately decorated crystal chandelier hung from the second-floor ceiling, reminding me of something that should be in a museum or a ballroom, not just someone's home. This wasn't just anyone's home, though. This was the home of a billionaire businessman – and it showed.
The home came fully furnished, with ornate paintings lining the walls, oriental rugs on the floor beneath our feet, and granite statues that looked as old as the city itself. It was all incredibly tastefully done – and was surprisingly understated. No gold trimmed walls or gaudy, over the top displays of wealth there.
I was in awe.
The girls rushed in, brushing past me, and their giggling voices echoed through the house. Maisie turned and took her father by the hand, begging of him.
“Can we see our rooms, please?” she asked.
“Sure, let's head upstairs,” Spencer laughed.
The three of them walked up the stairs, and I found myself frozen in place for the longest time. I was sure I was just watching somebody else's life playing out before me like a movie. I honestly couldn't quite grasp the fact yet, that I'd be living there.
They were about halfway up the staircase when Maisie turned back and called back to me.
“Avery, what are you waiting for? Come on!”
I chuckled, my temporary paralysis broken, and feeling happier than I had in a long time. I joined them, and together we walked upstairs, Maisie taking my hand in hers.
It almost felt like I was part of the family – a feeling that brought a smile to my face.