AN: Had most of this written yesterday, but it got way past my bed time, and the ending was being obstinate. I was getting ideas for the next chapter (so hopefully that will be up sooner than later, but we'll see) but not for the end of this one. Grr. Thank you all for reviewing—I can't believe I'm up over 600. That is definitely a first for me. I'm just glad you guys seem to be enjoying the story so much.

The next morning, Rory woke up slightly disoriented. She didn't even recognize the hand that lie right in front of her face, gripping the pillow that was also cushioning her head. She narrowed her eyes and wiggled her fingers, causing the hand in front of her to wave at her. It was definitely her hand, despite the elegant appendage that was affixed to the third finger.

"If I would have known you wouldn't be able to keep your eyes off of it, I would have had it permanently attached to my person," came Tristan's deep morning voice from the vicinity of her right ear.

"That sounds sort of painful," she giggled, turning enough for him to be able to catch her lips against his.

"I'm sure you could take the pain away," he murmured against her mouth as she turned her body to better angle into him.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" she asked, closing her eyes as his hands slid back underneath the covers.

"I have to meet my parents for a late lunch—they were informed of my early arrival by the concierge, and I got a note with dinner last night to meet them."

"You sound so thrilled. Aren't you here to see your parents?"

He sighed and leaned back against the pillows. "I'm here on business," he clarified. "If you want, you can go shopping while I'm gone."

Her eyes lit up at the very thought. Shopping in Paris is what every little girl dreams of, especially little girls who watch too many movies. "I shouldn't though. Window shopping makes me depressed."

"So go in," he said, as if it were the obvious solution to her qualms.

"If I go in, I'll be tempted to whip out the old credit card, and let me tell you, it won't survive a whirl through Paris. I'm not even sure it could survive a mini-mart run for a Moon Pie and a soda."

"So take mine," he kissed the top of her head.

She looked up at him, reveling in the blithe tone he'd used in his monumental suggestion. When she didn't say anything for an extended beat, he refocused his gaze from out the window to her face.

"You okay?"

"I can't take your credit cards," she shook her head, sitting up next to him.

"Why not?"

"Because they're yours."

"It's money—no boutique in Paris is going to turn down my money."

"I'm turning down your money," she informed him plaintively.

"Why?" he yawned, not understanding her denial of his offer.

"Because it's not mine to take."

"You need something to do, and you like to shop, correct?"

"Yes, but that isn't the issue here."

"Why does this have to be an issue?" he asked, now fully awake.

"It's not. I'm just not comfortable with the idea, is all."

"What's wrong with me wanting you to have a good time?"

"Why don't I just join you at your lunch?"

"That is not going to help in your having a good time," he scoffed knowingly.

"Fine, I'll find something else to do. It's Paris, I'll go to a museum."

After the night before and her increasingly strained tone during this morning conversation, he decided to let the issue drop. They couldn't keep going in the cycle they'd been in, getting closer only to fall into a power struggle of old issues that weighed on each of them. If she didn't want the damn cards, then fine.

"There's no lack of those here. You want to take my driver? I'm just meeting my parents down the way, I won't need it. It's already paid for, if I use it or not," he said, hoping to get her to agree to take his help and make this a non-discussion.

"If you're sure you won't need it."

"I'm positive. Does your mom know you're here?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah, I called her last night, after," she paused before continuing, "She knows I'm here."

"Good. Wouldn't want the school to call and her to give you up," he smiled at her. "I still can't believe you skipped out on school for me."

"This was more important. I really am sorry," she looked into his eyes, realizing that he'd extinguished an argument just moments before, even before it got fanned into a real fire. "I really am going to work on the trust thing."

"Glad to hear it. Now, scoot, I have to get ready."

She kissed him one more time before wrapping the sheet around her body and sliding out of bed to move toward the shower.

"Hey, Rory?"

She stopped and half turned, looking at him with thoroughly mussed hair from a night of being encapsulated in his arms.

"Yeah?"

"Wherever you go, don't linger too long. I'd like to take you out on the town tonight, if that's okay."

She gave a true smile. "Sounds perfect," she nodded, and turned back, disappearing into the master bath to start her day.

XXXX

"Are we done here?" Tristan asked, checking his watch one more time.

"What, do you have a hot date to get to?" his father asked, clearly uninterested.

"If you must know, yes," Tristan replied, rolling his eyes at his father.

"I thought Janlan said you were seeing the Gilmore girl," his mother said, swirling her drink in her hand before raising it back up to her lips.

"You say that as if it's a concern to his having a date tonight," Kieran Dugrey said, matching Tristan's prior tone.

"Don't start," Jara warned.

"Her name is Rory, and that is whom I'm meeting later," Tristan spoke up, over his parents' side conversation.

"She's in Paris as well?" Jara's interest was peaked.

"She's staying with me," he begrudgingly admitted.

"She came to Paris with you?" his father seemed interested in something he was saying for the first time, well, ever, if he thought about it.

"Yes," Tristan said, checking his watch again.

"You're honestly serious about this girl?" he sat up on the edge of his seat, eyeing his son.

"Not that it's your concern, but yes, I am," he said, meeting his father's eyes.

"Well, this changes everything. You'll bring her to dinner tomorrow night, after the meeting."

"Like hell I will," Tristan laughed before taking the last drink out of his glass.

"Tristan, be reasonable," his mother chastised.

"I'm not bringing her to dinner. There is no reason for it."

"You brought her along to Paris, and you aren't going to formally introduce us?"

"That's right. Now if you'll excuse me," he stood up, and his father matched his actions.

"This isn't up for debate, son. We'll see the two of you for dinner at 7:30 tomorrow night. That should give you plenty of time to change after the meeting."

"You're right about one thing, Father," he said the last word rather scathingly. "This isn't up for debate. I'm here because you gave me no choice in the matter, but I'm not obligated to you socially. I'll see you at the meeting, tomorrow," he added, nodding to his mother before leaving the restaurant and his parents.

XXXX

He was back in the hotel suite long before Rory came bursting into the room. Her mood was clearly elevated, having spent the majority of the afternoon taking in the beauty of the exhibits at the Louvre. Her smile was almost contagious, but he was still working the unpleasant encounter with his parents out of his system.

"You're back," she said happily, moving to hug him.

"I'm back. You hungry?"

"I could eat," she kissed him. "You okay?"

"I'm good now. How was your day?"

She smiled, instantly thinking of her afternoon. "It was amazing. I mean, I've been to Paris twice before, and I even went to the Louvre with Grandma, but it's so big, you'd need a week or something to go through the whole thing. Do you know how many exhibits they have there? It's staggering to think about, really," she rambled, stopping only when his amusement grew to a visible point.

"I'm babbling," she said softly, blushing slightly.

"You're cute when you babble," he kissed the tip of her nose.

"Let's go, and you can tell me about your day," she suggested, not liking to be the center of attention.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked, not wanting to talk about his day.

"I don't know. It's still sort of early, we could roam about for a while, get some coffee in a real Parisian café," she suggested.

"You've been to Paris and not stopped in a street café?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Of course I have, but you know what they say. When in Paris, do as the Parisians do."

"Right. Let's go, Madame," he shook his head, unable to stop smiling at her.

"I can't go out in this," she stopped, feigning shock as she held her hands to her torso.

"Weren't you just out in that?" he asked, scanning her body for effect. "You look great."

"Yes, but that's the problem. I've already been seen in Paris in this outfit. I have to change."

"How many changes of clothes did you bring?" he asked, lifting up the top of her suitcase and peering inside. She smacked his hand away, causing it to shut.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to look in a lady's things?"

"My parents weren't big on rules," he smirked.

"That," she pointed at him, "explains so much."

"Funny. Go change, I'll make reservations."

"Ooh, where at?"

"Surprises, Mary. Most people like them."

"I'm not most people," she said, picking up her suitcase and disappearing into the bathroom to change. Evidently he wasn't allowed near the process of choosing an outfit. He smiled at the thought of her dressing for an evening out in Paris with him. Perhaps it was the City of Love, as cheesy as it sounded to him.

XXXX

She was warm from his arms, the champagne, and the feeling that was perpetually swelling up inside of her whenever she was in such proximity to this man that was leading her around the dance floor on the dinner boat. She had no idea how they ended up floating down the Seine, nor did she have a desire to ever leave it. She felt the pad of his thumb drag across the inside of her palm before coming back to rest in its proper place on her hand. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, not hiding her smile at all. She wanted all of Paris to see how happy she was.

"I think we should stay here forever," she mused, to which he agreed by placing his lips against her temple.

"Would you?" she continued her whimsical tangent.

"In a heartbeat, if I thought you were serious."

"Why wouldn't I be? What could be better than this?" she lifted her head to look up lazily into his eyes.

"You would give up school, a future career, and your family to stay in Paris with me?"

"They have schools here, and jobs—and Mom is just dying to come to Paris again. I could be her excuse."

"You have this all planned out, huh?"

"Pretty much. I didn't think you'd mind," she sighed, resting her head back on his shoulder for a moment, until he spoke again.

He nodded. "Have you given anymore thought as to what is really going to happen?"

He could see she had, just by the cloud that moved over her eyes, pushing her fantasy out of her mind. "Yeah."

He nodded, not sure what her single word answer meant. "Okay. Care to share your thoughts?"

"Now?"

"No time like the present."

She took a breath, and moved closer into his arms. He responded by warmly tightening his grip on her body. "Well, at first I thought maybe it would be better if we just waited to see what happened. Not make any promises, you know?"

He nodded hollowly, not liking her brilliant idea. He knew well why she would come up with such a plan, especially if she believed that he thought her capable of going back to Logan. Why should she trust him if he didn't trust her?

"But after, well, everything," she paused again, clearly not liking being the first to admit her most intimate of feelings, "I'm thinking maybe we could talk about finding a way to be closer."

"It's about time you said that," he said with relief. "I've been wanting to talk to you about it. I was going to last night, but I didn't exactly get the chance."

"Oh."

"I know the last time we talked about it, it got strained," he admitted. "But there are things in my life that I'm willing to give up, and others I'm not."

She nodded, feeling almost lightheaded as she awaited his deeper explanation.

"You're not one of those things I'm willing to let go."

She smiled, tears being brought to her eyes. After the strain of the heightened emotions they'd put each other through the last couple of days, she couldn't have blamed him for rethinking everything they'd been through up to this point. She wasn't the most secure of investments, with her penchant to run. He knew all of her secrets now, or at least the tips of the icebergs that lay in her depths, and he wasn't going anywhere.

"Me either," she breathed, closing her eyes as he kissed her; both oblivious to the stars above them or the river below them. Her earlier conversation hadn't been just a thought that flitted in and out of her mind. Being alone in this city with him made her feel that she could be wherever he was and that would be enough for her. It would be true and real. No one else had ever made her feel that way. She'd felt the beginnings of it in England, but thought it was the whole experience of being abroad, but this was turning out to be much more than she'd bargained for. And she had every intention to stay with him now.