“Our night isn’t over yet,” Penn said against my swollen lips.

For a split second, I considered that perhaps our night was over. What it would be like to be that bold. To channel my inner Amy and tell him that we should just leave and go back to my place. I could do it. My lower half was throbbing from one kiss. One incredible kiss that had made every one before it pale in comparison.

I could only imagine what it would be like to move forward. But I didn’t speak out. I wasn’t experienced in that regard. And even though I’d taken that condom from Amy…I didn’t actually intend on using it.

“What’s next?” I finally managed to get out.

He leaned his forehead against mine. “I have an idea. It’s a crazy idea.”

“I only have one night. Might as well make it memorable.”

A Cheshire cat smile crossed his face, quick and devious. “That’s what I like to hear.”

We finished the wine and trashed our impromptu picnic. Between my buzz and that kiss, I was floating above the clouds. Penn directed me down the cobblestone path. My steps were heavy as I let my fingers trace the stone barrier along the riverside. Silence hung between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward as it so often was. It held taut between us, the tension from our kiss still achingly present.

The moon swelled so large in the sky. I felt as if I could reach out and touch it. As if it were controlling all of this. The two of us just a tide, swept in and out by the pull of the moon. Destined to crash together over and over again. As if this very moment had been preordained. Fate or destiny or divine intervention.

My mother read tarot cards and looked into crystal balls. She deciphered tea leaves, burned herbs, and recited New Age texts about being one with the universe. I couldn’t fathom how many times I’d rolled my eyes at her latest rant. But here tonight, it almost made sense. This cosmic aligning that had brought us to the same place and time. That had set us into motion. I couldn’t deny that I had never felt this right before. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the thrill of a Paris night. Or maybe it was just Penn.

My eyes cast a glance to his, bright with a reflection of the moon dancing in their depths. “I think, if I had a new life, I’d live here.”

“Paris is a thief,” he said thoughtfully. “It steals a piece of your heart every time you come here.”

I nodded. That sentiment I understood completely. “I’ve been to a lot of places. I’ve lived all over, but I’ve never felt more at home than where I am right now.”

“You’ll have to come back then.”

Yeah, like that was going to happen. I couldn’t fathom a world in which I’d ever have enough money to travel to Europe again. My parents weren’t wrong when they said that writing was a long shot. Very few made enough money to live off, and even fewer got to travel to Paris, let alone live there. That would be a miracle.

“Someday,” I said wistfully. “I just wish they still had the love locks on the bridge.”

“They were an eyesore,” he said with a laugh.

“Beautiful in their own way.”

“But the bridges look so much nicer now without them.”

“Probably. I loved the idea of it. The romantic in me I suppose.”

“Apparently, the rest of the world agreed with you. That was why they had to be cut off the bridges en masse.”

“So much lost love.”

“They just moved their love to a landfill.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “So romantic.”

“Hey, at least their love is still in Paris.” His eyebrows knit together as he thought over that statement. “Erm…maybe.”

“I guess they should have carved their love into a tree then.”

“Why? So it could be made into paper or toothpicks?” he joked.

I elbowed him in the ribs. “I was going to say that it would have lasted longer, but you’re determined to ruin all my romantic notions.”

“Me?” He clapped a hand over his heart in mock horror. The quirk of his lips showed how much he was enjoying needling me. “Well, hang on then.”

He darted off into the night, leaving me alone, standing by the nearly empty bridge.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back!”

“You’re going to just leave me alone?” My eyes darted around anxiously. Suddenly seeing the sinister in the shadows and finding the quiet eerie.

“One minute. I swear.”

I leaned back against the bridge and crossed my arms, wondering what the hell he was thinking. I was all of five-seven in high heels with blonde hair that looked like a spotlight to possible predators. But my worries were unfounded. He appeared a minute later, as promised, jogging back to my side.

“Anyone accost you that I need to beat up?” he asked with a sly grin.

“I could have gone with you.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I snorted. “My dad was in the military. I can handle myself,” I said with a calm I hadn’t felt in his absence.

“Duly noted.” His smile was devious enough that I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back. “Here.”

He opened his hand to reveal a gold lock about the size of his palm. He’d taken a Sharpie and written in surprisingly good handwriting, P & N.

A small gasp escaped my lips. “What? How?”

“Now, we have our own love lock. And I didn’t ruin all your romantic notions.”

He slid the lock into my hand. It was warm from his touch. My cheeks flushed with pleasure, and a sigh of happiness escaped my lips. It was way too soon. Of course, it wasn’t love. I knew that. This was just a symbol of our night. My one perfect night in Paris.

And though I knew it was entirely unreasonable and irrational to feel like I’d just tumbled over a cliff that I had no sense of ever coming back from, I fell anyway.

And I fell hard.