Free Kissed in Paris by Juliette Sobanet

vacation in some fairytale town, eating chocolate off my lover’s spoon without a care in the world.
    Julien’s stern glance snapped me back to reality.
    “Hurry, we are almost there,” he said, all the while never breaking his brisk stride.
    I ignored the throbbing in my feet and powered forward. I hadn’t said a word to Julien after our conversation on the train, and I didn’t see any reason to. I would follow him to retrieve my passport, and then I’d get right back on the train to Paris— by myself this time. With no judgment from the mysterious French agent who didn’t know me at all.
    After crossing over a small river that flowed through the town, we squeezed past the meandering tourists and sped down a pedestrian-only cobblestone walkway. The delicious aromas of melted cheese and chocolate wafted out onto the street, making me feel faint.
    Julien took my hand and led me to a miniature table at a café on the corner. “Have a seat, drink a glass of wine, and I will be back in fifteen minutes.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me ten Euros.
    Have a glass of wine? Seriously?
    “Where are you going?” I asked, not taking his instructions to sit down.
    “Do not go anywhere or talk to anyone,” Julien instructed before turning and leaving me at the café by myself.
    “But why can’t—”
    Julien swiveled back around and marched up to me, leaning in so close that his lips just barely grazed my ear. “The place I am going to may not be safe.” He pulled the chair out and laid his hand on my shoulder. “Please, sit down and do not worry. I will be right back.”
    I noticed a weariness in Julien’s eyes that I hadn’t seen all day. He gave me one last serious nod before heading back down the crowded cobblestone street, and leaving me alone at what would’ve been the most charming café I’d ever been to, had it not been for the fact that I was sitting there alone in a tight red dress baring my skin to every sleazy French guy who happened to saunter past. Not to mention the fact that we were hunting down an evil con-man to find my passport.
    My eyes remained glued to Julien’s back as he strode down the pathway, and just when he was barely visible, I shot up from the table.
    I didn’t care what he’d said. I needed to know what in the hell was going on, and I wanted my passport back.
    Much less gracefully than Julien had, I stumbled my way over the rocky cobblestones in my heels. I spotted the back of Julien’s head and his gray T-shirt not too far ahead of me as he took a sharp left underneath a stone archway. I slowed down so he wouldn’t notice me, then peeked around the archway to find him messing with a blood red door across a quiet alley.
    After a few seconds of jimmying the handle, he managed to open the door and slip inside. As the door clicked shut, I realized that sneaking in behind Julien was probably my only chance of making it into that apartment building, and I’d just missed it.
     I brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. I probably should’ve just listened to him and stayed back at the restaurant. But this part of town didn’t seem unsafe. So why hadn’t he let me come with him? He didn’t have a problem taking me into the country cottage in Giverny earlier and beating up that man right in front of me.
    As I was trying to decide if I should wait it out in the alley or head back to the café, a flash of wavy auburn hair—almost the exact color and length of my own—caught my eye. I focused in on the woman who stood a couple of blocks down the street, wondering why I felt so drawn to her. Just as she was about to round a corner, she stopped and pivoted to the side, her profile now clearly visible to me.
    I blinked my eyes and took a double take. There was no way that what I was seeing was real. But as I took a few steps toward her, there was no mistaking it.
    That woman looked exactly like my mother.
    She disappeared around the corner, and