Chapter Fifty-One

~ Nikki ~

When we’re settled in the back of the limo, Jameson serves champagne.

We clink rims and sip. Then he tells me, “Formal dinner times are seven and nine. We have a nine o’clock seating this evening.”

“Then we are hellaciously early,” I quietly quip.

“We won’t be.”

The sun has set and the stars are out. Paris is lit up with all its sparkling magnificence. So, clearly, we’re going to tour the city.

As we leave the Champs Élysées, we first come upon a spectacular bridge that is too breathtaking for words, with tall, sculpted pillars topped with golden statues, glowing lamps and artistically designed gilt accents that make my jaw drop.

Jameson says, “This is the Pont Alexandre III bridge, crossing the Seine.”

I am stunned into silence. This isn’t a bridge. This is a masterpiece.

I can only snap certain angles of it, and Jameson comments, “Don’t worry. It’s on millions of postcards. We’ll pick some up for you.”

I want to make a joke that my generation doesn’t send postcards, but I