It was Thursday night and freezing, but the Christmas displays were worth it, Anna decided as she wrapped her plush white scarf tighter around her neck. Digging her gloved hands deeper into her coat, she walked down the Grands Boulevards, window to window, drummer boys and nutcrackers, twinkling lights and whimsical trains.
She bumped into him, or he into her. Either way,
Oh, je suis désolée!
But he smiled. She smiled. What a coincidence, he was also walking that way. They walked together, to the end of the display. Then they kept walking and talking.
They walked through ample sidewalk and conversation. Then it was cold, so they went inside. They had two glasses of Bordeaux, each. They shared a basket of fries.
His name was Matthias and he said she was beautiful. They kissed. Then,
Shall we get some ice cream?
Ice cream? It was freezing! Was he mad?
It cannot make us any colder.
Good point.
On one condition, though:
I want it in a cone.
Un cornet pour mademoiselle!
She giggled and they bundled up and linked arms and walked out into the cold again.
They walked across the bridge, past the colorful cafés where tourists were gladly being swindled. Left onto a side street, all the way down, to a well-hidden little kiosk.
The queue outside it was a good sign, and that there were no tourists in it. He had two scoops: chocolate and something pink. She had her vanilla and her cone. They ate as they walked and shivered and stopped to kiss stickily.
Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?
It was the easiest yes in history.
No, actually, it was not. That came later, one year later in the same place.
Lips and fingers sticky, he asked:
Would you like to marry me?
They were married in the first week of January, the coldest wedding in history.
They had croissants from the boulangerie downstairs for breakfast. She made coffee on the little stove. They froze in the snow, he in his only suit, she in the creamy white dress she had bought. They stepped out of the mairie at noon holding hands, kissing, laughing at the words “husband” and “wife,” and just before ducking into the Métro, they had gooey crêpes for their wedding lunch.