CHAPTER:4 A PARIS RETURN

The New York winter dragged on, gray and relentless, but Nora's work on her book, Lila's Sketches, kept her anchored. By March, she'd finalized the illustrations, each page a piece of her heart—Lila's journey through loneliness now a vibrant story of hope. The publisher was thrilled, scheduling a release for the following spring, and Nora felt a pride she'd never known. Yet, as she pinned the final sketch to her wall—a girl and a boy in a paper plane soaring over a city—her thoughts were 3,000 miles away, with Liam.Their long-distance rhythm had settled into a pattern: nightly calls when schedules allowed, care packages (his coffee beans from Brazil, her doodles mailed to his Paris apartment), and stolen weekends when his flights brought him to New York. His transfer request to a New York base was still pending, caught in airline bureaucracy, but he never wavered in his optimism. "We're closer than you think," he'd say, his voice crackling through her phone, and she'd cling to that promise.When Priya, her editor, approved a two-week break after the manuscript's submission, Nora didn't hesitate. She booked a flight to Paris, her heart racing at the thought of surprising Liam. She texted him vague hints—Miss you. Dreaming of croissants—but kept her plan secret, coordinating with his friend and fellow pilot, Claire, to confirm his schedule. He'd be in Paris for three days, grounded after a string of international flights.The flight to Charles de Gaulle was smoother than her last transatlantic trip, the skies clear and the stars bright outside her window. Nora sketched to pass the time, drawing Liam as she imagined him now—leaning against his apartment balcony, the Eiffel Tower a distant silhouette. She wondered if Paris would feel the same, if they would feel the same, after months of screens and postcards.Landing at dawn, Nora navigated the airport's familiar chaos, her bag slung over her shoulder, her sketchbook tucked inside. Claire had promised to keep Liam at his apartment until Nora arrived, inventing a story about a delayed crew meeting. The taxi ride to Montmartre was a blur of Parisian rooftops and morning light, and by the time she reached Liam's building—a charming, slightly worn walk-up—she was buzzing with anticipation.She climbed the narrow stairs to his fourth-floor apartment, her heart pounding louder than her footsteps. At his door, she hesitated, smoothing her hair and taking a deep breath. Then she knocked, three sharp raps.Footsteps shuffled inside, and the door swung open. Liam stood there, unshaven, in a faded T-shirt and jeans, his hair a mess from sleep. His eyes widened, his jaw dropping as he registered her face. "Nora? What—how—""Surprise," she said, grinning, her voice trembling with excitement.He pulled her into his arms, laughing as he spun her in the cramped hallway. "You're here," he murmured, his face buried in her hair. "You're actually here."She laughed, clinging to him. "I had a break. Couldn't wait another second to see you."He kissed her, deep and urgent, like he was making up for every mile between them. When they finally pulled apart, he led her inside, his apartment a cozy mix of pilot practicality and personal touches—flight charts pinned to a corkboard, a shelf of his mother's old art books, a stack of Nora's postcards taped to the fridge. "How long do I get you?" he asked, his hands still on her waist."Two weeks," she said. "Long enough to make you sick of me.""Impossible," he said, his grin boyish. He made coffee, the French press steaming as they sat at his tiny kitchen table, catching up. She told him about the book's completion, the publisher's excitement, the surreal feeling of seeing her dream take shape. He shared stories of his latest flights—a near-miss with a storm over the Pacific, a passenger who proposed mid-flight, earning cheers from the cabin."You should've been there," he said. "I could've used an artist to capture that moment.""I'm here now," she said, reaching for his hand. "And I brought my sketchbook."That afternoon, they wandered Paris like they had in their first days together. They revisited Café des Deux Magots, sharing a plate of madeleines as Nora sketched the waiter's sly smile. They strolled along the Seine, pausing to watch a street performer juggle flaming torches, Liam tossing a few euros into the hat. At the Louvre, they lingered in front of a Degas painting, Liam's arm around her as he whispered, "Your sketches are better."That night, they climbed to the roof of his building, a secret spot he'd discovered with a view of Paris's twinkling skyline. They sat on a blanket, sharing a bottle of red wine, the city spread out like a canvas below. Nora leaned against him, her sketchbook open, drawing the Eiffel Tower's silhouette against the dusk."Liam," she said, her pencil pausing, "what happens next? With us? My book's done, but they're already talking about a sequel. I might need to stay in New York longer. And your transfer…"He set down his glass, turning to face her. "I got news yesterday. The transfer's approved. I'm moving to New York in two months."Her breath caught. "Seriously?""Seriously," he said, his eyes bright. "I'll still fly international routes, but I'll be based out of JFK. We'll have more than stolen weekends, Nora. We'll have… a life."She threw her arms around him, nearly knocking over the wine. "You didn't tell me!""Wanted to see your face when I did," he said, laughing as he steadied her. "Worth it."They kissed under the Parisian stars, the city humming below, and Nora felt the pieces of her life aligning—her art, her love, her future. She pulled back, grabbing her sketchbook. "Hold still," she said, her pencil flying across the page. She drew him as he was now—relaxed, happy, the city framing him like a promise kept. When she finished, she showed him: Liam on the rooftop, a tiny plane soaring above, its contrail forming a heart."Our story," she said, her voice soft.He took the pencil, adding a single word beside the heart: Forever.The next two weeks were a dream—lazy mornings in his apartment, late-night walks, a day trip to Versailles where they got lost in the gardens and laughed until their sides ached. When it was time for Nora to return to New York, Liam drove her to the airport, his hand on hers the whole way. At the gate, she handed him a new sketch: their plane, now with two stars above it, one for each city they called home."See you soon," she said, kissing him."Count on it," he replied, tucking the sketch into his jacket.As her plane climbed into the sky, Nora looked out the window, the clouds glowing with dawn. She didn't know what the next year would bring—more books, more flights, more challenges. But with Liam's sketch in his pocket and her heart full, she knew they'd navigate it together, their love a compass guiding them through any storm.