‘It’s so unfair,’ I moaned – my last attempt in persuading him.
‘You’re such a monkey,’ he smiled, craning his neck to give me another kiss.
‘Please?’
‘No!’ he laughed, a smug smile forming at his mouth. ‘Right, let’s get showered – taxi’s going to be here soon.’
‘You mean, we’re not driving?’
‘No …’ he teased.
My eyes widened with excitement. I’d no idea what Robert had planned, but the fact we weren’t driving to wherever we were going was extremely intriguing. In fact, it blew any suspicions of what he had planned out of the water.
When, an hour and a half later, the cab dropped us off outside King’s Cross Station, my head whipped round to Robert as a smile exploded onto my face.
‘Are we …?’ I asked with surprise, unable to finish the question.
His face creased up as he laughed in response. Ignoring the swell of early morning commuters who tutted as they made their way around us and into the station, he clasped at the lapels of my coat and pulled me into him.
‘I thought it might be nice to go back and see where this little love of ours blossomed,’ he winked, kissing me before pulling out two first-class Eurostar tickets from his pocket. ‘But, this time, I thought we’d steer away from a smelly coach.’
‘Paris!’ I beamed in confirmation, throwing my arms around him and plastering his face with dozens of kisses.
‘Although we’ll probably still need these,’ he laughed, pulling away from me as he handed me two battered French phrase books. The same two we’d taken with us all those years before – they even had our names written in blue biro on the first page.
I couldn’t believe my luck. It was the most thoughtfully romantic thing that Robert had ever done for me. I was astounded at the gesture.
I was still pinching myself as we pulled into Paris’s grand Gare du Nord three hours later, and when we got in a taxi and took in the sights as we drove through the Parisian streets, and as we eventually pulled up outside our luxurious-looking accommodation, Hotel Vernet. A four-star boutique hotel, not far from the Arc de Triomphe, at the top of the Champs Elysées – the famous road lined with fabulous restaurants and expensive shops. Our hotel exterior was what you’d expect in Paris, its traditional stony cream surface patterned with horizontal lines, while at the bottom of its many windows sat intricately detailed black railings, woven with the green twigs of potted plants. Red canopies hung over each of them, giving the place an air of opulence, helped by its expansive glass entrance. It was a far cry from the shabby-looking place we’d stayed in before – it even had a lift, and a porter to take care of our bags as we checked in.
‘This is amazing, Rob,’ I said, looking around our suite – yes, a suite no less! Not only did the room have a stonkingly massive bed with an army-load of pillows laid on top of it, but it also had another room with a large cream sofa, a massive flat-screen TV and a desk – in case we felt the need to do any work while we were on our romantic trip. It was like nothing I’d ever stayed in before with its high ceilings and curtains that ran all the way up to them at the huge windows – there was even a box of Ladurée macaroons waiting for us on arrival. I took them to the bed and collapsed into the pillows while I popped a pink one into my mouth. Yum, strawberries and cream, I was in heaven.
‘Glad you like it,’ Robert smiled.
‘Ah, I could stay here all day.’
‘Oh really?’ he said, climbing onto the bed and straddling me at my waist, taking a yellow macaroon and shoving it in his mouth whole, groaning at its deliciousness. ‘That sounds like a very tempting idea.’
‘Doesn’t it …’
I pulled him down to me, hooking my arms around his neck as I licked his lips with the tip of my tongue.
‘Maddy Hurst!’
‘Yes?’ I asked, widening my eyes innocently.
‘You little minx,’ he growled, nibbling at my lip.
I hadn’t even had time to unpack the frilly knickers I’d packed before we started greedily tearing each other’s clothes off.
Once we’d managed to untangle ourselves and leave our gorgeous hotel room, we wrapped up warm and wandered leisurely, hand in hand, down the Champs Elysées, taking in the vastness of it as we went, and stopping to eat crêpes (filled with Nutella and banana) in one of Jardin des Tuileries’ restaurants for lunch.
We had decided to revisit some of our favourite spots from our teenage trip – starting with the Louvre, which had become increasingly well known since our previous visit thanks to the book (and film) The Da Vinci Code, making its glass pyramid even more famous than before. Dozens of people stood queuing, just to have their photo taken next to it, each adopting the same thumbs-up pose.