After a quick shower, I wrap myself in a towel and check my phone. A message from Calvin lights up the screen.
Sir
Landing early, 30 minutes. Can’t wait to see you.
My heart skips. Thirty minutes? I fly into motion, rushing to get dressed. I slip into a tight, tan ankle-length dress. Then throw on a coat, because winter in Paris is no joke. I swipe onsome mascara, toss my essentials into my carry-on, and drag my suitcase to the door before calling an Uber.
The drive out of Paris stretches longer than it should, each passing minute thick with anticipation. Outside the window, the city is draped in winter’s muted tones, cobblestone streets slick from last night’s rain, bare trees reaching up into a silver sky. Every rooftop looks dusted in frost, and the air has that quiet, heavy stillness unique to January mornings. By the time we pull up to the gated neighborhood, I’m practically vibrating. The area is a blend of old-world French charm and modern elegance, with manicured hedges, cobblestone drives, and sweeping estates tucked behind ornate iron gates.
I step inside the Airbnb using the code Calvin sent me. The house is breathtaking.
A modern, three-story masterpiece with six bedrooms, five bathrooms, and every luxury imaginable: pool, jacuzzi, theater room, game room, yoga studio, and even a massage room. The marble-finished kitchen gleams in the natural light spilling through massive windows, and the terrace opens to a view that could quiet even the loudest thoughts. It’s all so… Grand yet thoughtful. Impressive without being cold.
I barely have time to finish the tour before I hear a car pulling up outside. My heart leaps. I rush to the door.
My parents step out first, and just like that, I’m running.
“Mom! Dad!”
They open their arms at the same time, and I crash into them, laughter and tears tangling in my throat.
“Sweetheart, we’ve missed you so much,” my mom says as she wraps me tightly against her.
My dad follows with a warm, grounding hug, his hand on the back of my head like when I was little. “You look amazing. We’re so proud of you.”
Then he grins. “And you can start calling us Grandpa and Grandma now.”
I pull back, blinking. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he chuckles. “I’vealwayswanted to hear it.”
Grandma chuckles beside him. “You’ll get used to it,” she says with a wink.
“Okay, okay, Grandpa, Grandma,” I say, trying it on like new shoes. “It sounds weird, but I’ll work on it. How was the flight?”
“Smooth,” Grandpa says, glancing over his shoulder just as Calvin steps out of the car.
My breath catches.
God, he looks good. Hair freshly trimmed, a perfectly tailored coat framing his broad shoulders, and that quiet confidence in every step he takes. My pulse quickens without permission.
I offer him a small smile, a little shy under so many eyes. “Hi, Calvin. Thank you for bringing them. Really.”
His smile softens something in me. “It was my pleasure,” he says.
Behind him, Abigail lingers near the car, looking hesitant.
Without giving it a second thought, I cross the distance and pull her into a hug.
“Hi, Abby. I missed you.”
“I missed you too, baby,” she says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Are you excited to finally be done with school?”
“Excited doesn’t even cover it,” I say, and Abigail laughs, looping her arm through mine.
As we step inside, both she and Grandma gasp in unison at the sheer grandeur of the house.
“Wow, look at this place!” Abigail exclaims.
