Chapter 194

You are all I long for, all I worship and adore

Throwing open the hotel room windows Robin squealed in delight at the view. Across the street from the Louvre, their room overlooked the Seine and she could see people strolling the grand boulevards, hand in hand, soaking up the Parisian atmosphere. The city had been her home for almost a decade and she knew it well but even just staring out the window she realized the adage was true – Paris was a different city when you were in love.

As Patrick's arms encircled her, she melted against him closing her hands over his. She had been apprehensive about a last minute trip to Paris – worried about being off work, worried that Patrick was putting too much stress on himself – but the moment the plane took off, her concerns evaporated and she became giddy with anticipation. Her heart had started to race, just a little, as they exited the airport and the familiar smells of a city she loved came rushing back.

"I can't believe you booked this place," she said quietly. A soft wind was billowing through the window, leaving the curtains floating on the air.

"I was told the Quai Voltaire was one of the best kept secrets in Paris and that the views were unbeatable."

Cocking her head to the side, she gave him a curious look. "Funny, Brenda says the same thing."

"Oh," he stammered, "we must have read the same guidebook. So – where to we start the Robin Scorpio tour of Paris?"

"I don't know" she replied, honestly. "What….what do you want to see? I mean we can go the Louvre, Hôtel des Invalides-"

"I want to see where you lived" he interrupted. "I want you to show me some of the things you loved to do when you lived here."

Turning in his arms, she stared up at him. "Why?"

He brushed her hair from her face and nipped at her lips. "Because the time you spent in this city shaped a large part of the person you are. And I happen to love that person very much. Besides," he stopped to kiss her again. "You got quality time with all my embarrassing childhood photos at the Hamptons, you owe me."

She ran her hands over his hips and smiled teasingly at him. "I think I like owing you."

"I plan on collecting."

Glancing at her watch, she smiled. "Well if we're going to make our dinner reservations later tonight then we best get started. You ready?"

A smirk crossed his face. "Baby, I was born ready."

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Robin grabbed his hand. "That's not what I meant but it'll do."

******
They stood outside the white building on rue St-Honoré and peered up at the eighth floor. Fresh flower baskets adorned every wrought iron balcony and most of the windows were open to take advantage of the mid-summer's breeze.

"That's quite an apartment" Patrick told her, his eyes glued to the balcony she had pointed out.

"I loved it," she told him wistfully. "It wasn't big – just a one bedroom – but I loved the view, the sounds from the street below, everything. I used to have a little lounge chair and a table and when I would get home from work, regardless of what time it was, I would sit outside and just soak it all in. I never wanted to take this city for granted."

"Would you like to live here again?" he asked, watching her from the corner of his eye.

She nodded. "Sure. It's an amazing city with a lot to offer but for the moment my home – our home – is in Port Charles and that's exactly where I want to be."

As Patrick's stomach rumbled loudly, he smiled sheepishly. Robin giggled and taking him again by the hand, led him down the street. "Sounds like it's time for lunch."

They crossed over and walked along the Seine with Robin pointing out different landmarks as they passed. As they walked through the Marché aux Fleurs, she pulled him to the side and they leaned against the stone railing. The aroma from the flowers was heady and soothing. There was an explosion of colour everywhere the eye could see with flowers of all shapes and sizes bursting forth from stalls and buckets.

"I used to come here to think" she said, watching as a young woman selected a simple but colourful bouquet. "Everything is so bright and when I was wrestling with a problem or feeling a little down, I would stroll over here, find a bench and just kind of get lost in the flowers."

"It's beautiful" he said quietly, watching her eyes dance.

"When….when Tony Jones called me and asked me to come consult on Jason's case, I was really torn. I mean, I think I was looking for a reason to come home but I wasn't sure I wanted that to be the reason. And so many memories – many unpleasant ones – kind of filled my head and I didn't know what to do. So I came here. It was late Fall and the flowers were fiery – oranges and reds. I must have sat here for almost 2 hours – one of the vendors brought me a red gerber daisy – and somewhere in there I realized it was time for me to go home – for better or for worse."

Sliding his arms around her waist, he tugged her to him and fastened his mouth over hers in a slow, languid kiss; their tongues tangled around each other as they deepened the kiss.

"Am I ever glad you did come back" he said quietly, gazing lovingly into her eyes. "I can't imagine what my life would be like without having met you."

"Oh come on" she teased, "there are nurses and waitresses and investment bankers all over Manhattan who would have kept you occupied."

He shook his head. "Occupied but not loved. I can't….I can't imagine going through my life and not experiencing this. I know I always dismissed it but I think….I wonder sometimes if I did that because I didn't think it would ever happen for me?"

Stealing a kiss, Robin smiled. "Well I'm glad I came back too."

They continued their stroll over the bridge turning on to rue de Rivoli. Robin brought them to a stop outside a spectacular building. "Are you ready to be spoiled?" she asked.

He waggled his eyebrows. "What exactly did you have in mind Doctor Scorpio?" he asked as he pulled open the door.

"This is Angélina's. And this was the place my friends and I would come for a treat – and trust me we would find any reason for a treat."

Standing in the entrance of the grand tea room, Patrick marvelled at the high ceilings, the arched doorways and the Queen Anne chairs that encircled every marble table. The place was abuzz with some of the finest dressed women of Paris partaking in a daily ritual mixed together with tourists from near and far looking for that special Parisian experience.

The Host showed them to their table, dead centre in the middle of all the action and even managed a smile as Robin spoke to him in flawless French. He placed the menus in front of them but no sooner was he gone than she snatched it from his hands.

"You can look at the menu or you can trust me to order for you" she told him playfully.

"I trust you" he grinned.

The waiter returned and took Robin's order, murmuring his approval as he did so. As they waited for their food, she explained the history of the tea room and how one of her colleagues, a kind older nurse had taken her here after work on her first shift. She said that people often considered Parisians rude but it hadn't been her experience, in fact, some of the kindest most compassionate people were people she met here.

Patrick's eyes widened as the waiter returned, placing two teapots in front of them. He followed with two small bowls of freshly whipped cream and two pastries sprinkled with icing sugar.

"Wow," he remarked, practically salivating.

"This is African hot chocolate" she told him. "And yes, I know it's normally a winter drink but you can't come to Angélina's and not have it."

"What's this?" he asked excitedly, holding up the pastry.

"That is a Mont Blanc and it is a slice of heaven. It's chestnut crème covered in meringue and icing sugar. It's like an orgasm in your mouth."

"Oh. Is that how you became so talented with your mouth?" he teased.

Blushing, she simply shook her head. "Leave it to you to turn a delicacy into something sexual."

With an unapologetic grin on his face, he shrugged. "What I was talking about is a delicacy too"

"Incorrigible," she muttered, before taking a bite of her pastry; her eyes nearly rolling to the back of her head as she did so.

Patrick followed suit and was unable to keep from moaning as the crème melted in his mouth.

They spent almost two hours in the tea room – observing others, talking about Robin's past and their future. He joked that if they had a girl he would insist on her being called Angelina. They held hands across the table and as his fingers curled around hers, she realized that she had never been happier in her life. There was a pace to Paris – slow but not meandering – that allowed for introspection, observation and contemplation. It was one of the things she missed living in Port Charles but to be back and to be able to share it with the man she loved – to have him want to share it with her – it was a feeling unlike any she had ever known.

They strolled back to the hotel for a late afternoon nap before dinner. While they had yet to see any of the traditional tourists sites, Patrick wouldn't have traded a single moment of the day for anything.

*****
As Robin emerged from the bathroom, Patrick caught his breath. Her rich brown hair tumbled down, almost to her shoulders, in loose, wavy curls. She wore a strapless, silk charmeuse cocktail dress; its ruched bodice hugged all of her curves and highlighted her baby bump. He was sure he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

"You look amazing" he whispered, getting to his feet. Cupping her face with his hands, he kissed her tenderly.

Robin drank him in, his dark grey suit sitting perfectly against his shoulders. His hair was ruffled and messy and the flecks of grey smattered throughout made him look distinguished but playful at the same time.

"You clean up pretty nicely yourself" she told him, pursuing her lips in search of another kiss that he obliged. "And now that we're all dressed up, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner?"

"Le Grand Véfour" he answered breezily, enjoying her shocked gasp.

"Patrick! That restaurant takes ages to get a reservation to. How on earth did you manage it so quickly?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets" he teased, picking up her wrap and handing it to her. It was going to be quite the thank you card he sent to Brenda. "Ready?"

Nodding, she grabbed her purse and linked her arm through his as they left the hotel room.

The restaurant was an almost overwhelming experience – its early 19th century décor with large mirrors in gilded frames and rich tapestry gave an air of near other worldly decadence. Robin had heard of the restaurant and walked by it many times but had never, before tonight, had an opportunity to be a guest. She excitedly read the menu, her 'oohs' and 'aahs' providing no end of amusement to him. He loved to see her be free and unguarded. He understood better than most why she was so protective of herself but when she let herself go, when she allowed herself to just be, it was the most amazing sight in the world.

The food was an homage to the very best of French cuisine; they were practically luxuriating in goodness of their meal. Conversation stopped and started as they shared dishes, fed each other and lost themselves completely in the moment with each other.

Patrick shook his head in amused disbelief as Robin pouted when he said they wouldn't stay for dessert. Offering a compromise, he suggested they talk a walk around to enjoy the city at night and then once back at their room, they would order room service dessert. She took her time contemplating his offer – weighing the pros and cons – and making him chuckle in the process. Finally acquiescing, they left the restaurant and headed outside.

Busy still raving about the food, it took Robin several moments before she even clued in to the fact that the bench they were sitting on was at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. Once she did, she snuggled up against Patrick's arm and stared up at the illuminated tower. She had been up it more times than she cared to count and while the view was always breathtaking, there was something equally special about taking it in from the ground.

"What's that building over there?" Patrick asked, pointing to the other side of the tower.

The gold statues glinted in the moonlight and she recognized it immediately. "Musée de l'Homme – the Museum of Man" she told him.

"Interesting" he replied distractedly.

It had been all planned and had all gone according to plan but now, in the moment, he felt incredibly nervous. His stomach did a small pitch and roll and his hands were just a little clammy. Taking a deep breath, he seized the moment.

"I have never known anyone like you in my life" he began. "I….I wasn't expecting to fall in love and yet I did. I guess John Lennon was right, that life is what happens when you're busy making other plans because while I was planning to be the top neurosurgeon in the country and set the medical world on fire, you happened. You expanded my life Robin. Before you it was narrow and carefully defined and I convinced myself it was all I needed but I think that's because I was afraid there wasn't more for me to have. But you showed me that there is; you showed me, just as my mom says – love is not the answer to everything but every solution begins with it. I think you are quite simply the most amazing woman I know. I love you like mad but I also….I also like you. Spending time with you in any capacity – in the OR, at dinner, in bed," he paused, "makes me happy. You have given me so much – your love, your support, your passion and your courage. I was wondering if you could give me one more thing?"

Robin's eyes shimmered with tears and tilting her head to the side, she smiled nervously. "What's that?"

"Your hand in marriage" Patrick reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box he had been carrying all night long. He opened it and the sapphire gleamed in the moonlight.

"Robin, will you marry me?"