Capturing You

Chapter 37: Pictures of You

If I could take a picture of Joe and I's love, it would be from outside my apartment in Paris, through the little four-paned window in my living room. Joe and I would be sleeping, my head resting on his shoulder and his cheek resting atop my head, a blanket falling off of our laps, the fan oscillating and blowing my curtains. The very perfect moment to hit the shutter button would be when the curtain gave way to reveal us, sleeping together like that, quiet and together.

Or it would be from above, into the sunroof of the rental car that Joe and I drove across Lake Charles earlier this year, my head thrown back in laughter as he sang the song on the radio.

Or it would be from the first time we shared a meal together, just the two of us, at his house after the visit to the library when he and I became friends.

I could fill a scrapbook with all these pictures of Joe and I's love.

I was able to take Friday off for the holiday and we were able to spend the rest of the weekend in Paris, just him and I. In Cincinnati, you could spot Joe Burrow from a mile away, but in France, we could be incognito. No paparazzi to worry about, no fans to appease, not even any Bengals business to worry about--at least, for a few hours at a time. It felt like a part two to the vacation we had in Louisiana, and it was a much needed rejuvenation to our relationship.

On Saturday night, the last night Joe could spend in Paris before shipping back to Cincinnati to prepare for a Thursday football game, we had dinner underneath the Eiffel Tower. It was not the way I thought things were going to be resolved between us, but it sure was sweet--as sweet as the crème brûlée we shared under the lights.

"Sacré bleu, this shit is good," I said.

"So you did end up learning some French," he teased me.

"Only a little bit."

"How did you manage living your whole life in Louisiana and not picking up at least a few sentences?"

"C'mon, Burrow, I was just starting to like you again, and you're gonna dog me for that?" I snickered.

"We're having dinner underneath the Eiffel Tower. I think I can get away with a few things."

I gave him a playful roll of my eyes before looking out at the park. Pairs and groups were scattered about the field right beside the Eiffel Tower, and in the distance, tourists snapped photographs in front of the view. And yet, it felt like it was just Joe and I.

"I really can't believe I even got a chance to do this," I said, looking directly up the Eiffel Tower, scanning the rows of lights that donned the tower's lattices. A breeze blew through and I shuddered. I was wearing the nicest thing I brought to Paris, an airy spaghetti-strapped emerald green dress that hung just above my knees, but it was cold.

"Yeah?" Joe asked. He stood up to drape his jacket over me. I smiled.

"Yeah. This internship. Even though at the end of the day, it wasn't the best fit for me, I'm still so proud of myself for trying, you know?" After taking the last bite of my dessert, I leaned back and rested my arms against either side of the chair. It was certainly not a ladylike way to sit, but it was the only way I could get a good view of the tip of the tower. Still slumped, I looked over at Joe with half-lidded eyes. "I don't think I ever really thanked you."

"Thank me? For what?"

I shrugged. "You believed in me. Even if it meant things wouldn't be easy between us, you were willing to try anything just so I could try. And that means so much."

"You don't have to thank me, Ave. But... you're welcome," Joe said, mimicking my seating position. We both looked up at the tip of the tower together, bathing in the artificial sunlight of its light. "I'm proud of you. And I don't believe even for a second that this is the end of it for you. Whether you want to go back to taking pictures of the team, or hell, you want to take up painting--or even if you want to give it a shot back here if something opens up in a few years. I know that you're going to do a lot of amazing things. And I'm just so glad I get to see that."