One Summer in Paris, page 26
She tugged at her arm. “Like I said, I should go.”
“No.” He let go of her arm, but only so that he could pull her into a hug. “There are so many things I want to say, I don’t know where to start.” He held her tightly for a moment and then eased her away from him and took her face in his hands. “First, how could anyone not like you? You’re funny, smart, beautiful and really interesting—”
“I’m not smart. I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but you should probably know that I don’t really like books. I’m dyslexic.”
“I know.”
“How can you possibly know?”
“Because my younger sister is dyslexic. You remind me of her. And I saw the way you looked all panicked when I talked about books. She does the same.”
He knew? “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because you didn’t say anything! I thought if you’d wanted to talk about it, you would have talked about it. I like you, too. I was afraid of messing up and driving you away.”
“That’s why you stopped talking about books?”
“Yes. I figured it made you uncomfortable.”
“But you love books.”
“I love plenty of other things, too. The point is, you’re not the only one that’s afraid of messing up. Let’s sit down. We’re blocking the path.” He took her hand and they sat down on the riverbank. “My friends really liked you, but even if they didn’t it wouldn’t matter because I like you. A lot.”
“Right.” She’d gone to all that trouble not to embarrass him, and he didn’t even care what his friends thought? She felt like throwing herself into the Seine. She was so stupid.
“I’m sorry I took so long to come back to you last night. I feel terrible about it.”
“Forget it.”
“Was last night the first time you’ve been drunk?”
“It was the first time I’ve ever had a drink.” And she told him then. All of it. She started clumsily, telling him about her mum. About the drinking. The moods. The fact that at home her whole life revolved around the alcohol.
Etienne listened carefully, absorbing every word.
At one point he took her hand, as if by holding on to her he could stop her sliding back into that dark, terrifying place.
The words tumbled out unfiltered, and she knew she should probably shut up, but now she’d started talking she somehow couldn’t stop. When she stammered out an apology, he simply tightened his grip on her hand and urged her to keep talking. So she did. She told him even more than she’d told Grace. She told him about the time she’d found her mother unconscious on the bathroom floor and thought she was dead. She told him about the chaotic conversations where nothing seemed to make sense and which left her feeling as if she was the one with the problem. She told him about how responsible she felt, and how lonely that was, and that now there was Ron but how terrified she was it might all go wrong and things would end up worse.
And at some point she must have started crying again but she didn’t even realize until she felt him tug her into his arms and hug her. His touch felt safe and kind. She’d never had a boyfriend who cared before. Feelings had never been involved. Being able to tell him made the relationship feel special. She’d never thought that telling people could make her feel better.
“Shh.” He stroked her hair with his hand and pulled her onto his lap. He spoke in French, soft words that she didn’t understand but that made her feel better anyway.
Deep down she knew it was over now. If there was one thing a guy hated more than a girl spilling her guts, it was a girl sobbing all over him. Who was going to want a relationship with someone as complicated as her? It was summer in Paris. This was meant to be something light and fun and she’d just deluged him with her whole life story. It was like spilling the trash. She could have just given him a few of the lowlights, but no, she’d drenched him in sordid details.
She lay with her head nestled in the curve of his neck, horribly embarrassed. She didn’t know what to say. Given that she’d already said more than enough, she kept quiet. She could feel the warmth of his suntanned skin, and the roughness of his jaw where he hadn’t shaved. She breathed in, keeping her eyes closed. Etienne always smelled so good. She wished she could stay here forever.
People strolled past, enjoying the Paris sunshine, but Etienne didn’t seem to care.
He shifted slightly, but instead of nudging her off his lap, he held her closer.
“Do you want to go back to my place?”
She’d expected him to dump her. Maybe he was going to dump her, but he didn’t want to do it on the riverbank in public in case she turned into a water feature.
She lifted her head and looked at him.
His expression was serious. With his ruffled dark hair and incredible cheekbones, he looked like a moody actor. It was no wonder all the girls had been looking at him at the party. He was seriously good-looking.
“It’s okay.” She choked on the word. “You don’t have to be tactful. Just say it, I’ll be fine.”
“Say what?”
“You don’t think this is going to work. You don’t think we should see each other again.” She tried to wriggle off his lap then but he tightened his arms.
“Is that what you want? Do you want to end it?”
“No! But I just showered you with my personal crap and drenched your shirt, so I’m guessing you’re plotting the fastest route out of here. A relationship should be simple and fun. You’re probably thinking I’m too complicated.”
“That’s not what I’m thinking. To have dealt with all that—” He slid his hand over her cheek and turned her face to his. “And you got this job by yourself, and traveled here—I think you’re amazing.”
“Really?” She sniffed. “You think I’m amazing?” Apart from Grace, no one thought she was amazing. Not even her mother, and mothers were supposed to be programmed to think it, weren’t they? “You like my legs. And my butt.”
“That, too. But I also like you.” He smiled and lowered his mouth to hers. “I think you’re incredible.”
“I’m really not.”
He did tip her off his lap then, but only so they could both stand up. “We’re going back to my place so that I can show you how incredible you are.”
Audrey saw a couple give them a disapproving look. “I think you just told the whole of Paris.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care about anyone except you.” He locked her hand in his, and they walked the short distance to his apartment.
Inside, it was cool and quiet, and Audrey suddenly felt awkward. “I’m sorry about—well, all of it. I’m a bit messed-up, to be honest.”
“Stop apologizing. We’re all a bit messed-up.” He gave a funny crooked smile that did weird things to her insides. “What? You think you’re the only one with a complicated family?”
“Yours isn’t. You have this perfect family and it’s kind of embarrassing to admit that mine is all screwed-up.”
“I don’t have the perfect family. Not that it’s a competition but I’m willing to bet that my family is way more messed-up than yours. Or maybe just messed-up in different ways.” He walked through to the kitchen and found a couple of glasses.
“What? Are you kidding? You have this apartment that’s like something out of a magazine, and they’re away at their house on the Côte de wherever.”
“My mum is there, but she’s with my two little sisters. I don’t know where my dad is, but it’s a safe bet that he’s with a woman somewhere.” There was a bitterness to his voice that she hadn’t heard before.
“Your parents aren’t together?”
“In public they’re together. They are great at keeping up appearances, but behind the scenes it’s a different picture. I wish they actually did live apart because the things they say to each other are terrible. They close the doors, as if that makes a difference.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of iced water. “They hate each other so much it makes me wonder how they ever got together in the first place. I mean, did they even love each other once or was it always a mistake?”
Audrey gaped at him. She’d had no idea. And surely she, of all people, should know that what you saw on the surface didn’t always reflect what was going on underneath.
She saw now that he was hurting, too. That underneath that easy smile, he had his own problems that he didn’t usually talk about. She knew all about that.
“I’m sorry.” Audrey touched his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me that first night in your apartment?”
“Probably the same reason you didn’t tell me about your mum. It’s not the first thing you tell someone, is it? It’s heavy stuff, and we weren’t doing heavy stuff.”
“It doesn’t feel heavy. It feels—” Audrey tried to work it out. How did it feel? “It feels good to be honest with someone, that’s all. To have it all out there. To be able to properly share. It’s a relief.”
She took the glass of water he handed her.
“My mum wanted me to join them this summer, but I couldn’t face it. That’s why I took the job in the bookshop. This was my escape.”
“It was my escape, too. The difference is that I don’t like books.”
He laughed. “We’re going to fix that.”
Her heart sank. “You can’t fix me.”
“I don’t want to fix you. You’re fine just as you are. I want to fix the fact that you think you don’t like books. Why are you eyeing the door?”
“I’m plotting my escape route. That’s what happens when you know someone plans to torture you.”
He leaned in to kiss her neck. “Give me one hour. That’s all. One hour to prove to you that you do like books. Just not necessarily reading them yourself. One hour. Is it a deal?”
“I guess so.”
She would rather have done something else with that hour, but she wasn’t about to argue.
He led her into the bedroom and grabbed a book from the bookshelf that lined one of the walls. “Lie down and close your eyes.”
She slid off her shoes and lay down, watching him. “Now what?”
“You haven’t closed your eyes.”
“I like to see what’s happening.”
“Everything that is going to happen is going to happen in your head. Close your eyes.”
She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. Now what?” She felt the mattress move as he lay down next to her, the rustle of pages and then his voice, deep and velvet smooth as he read to her.
To begin with she found it impossible to relax. It felt totally weird. But then something happened and instead of hearing him reading and feeling self-conscious, she slid into the story and found herself living the action along with the characters. She lost track of time and when he finally stopped reading she opened her eyes, annoyed.
“Why are you stopping? I want to know what happens next.”
“That’s why I’m stopping.” He put the book down and shifted closer. “Am I allowed to say I told you so?”
“No.”
He swooped down and kissed her. “You might not like reading, but you like books and stories.”
“So what? You’re going to read every book ever written aloud to me? That’s going to take a while.”
His mouth hovered close to hers. “Are you in a hurry?”
“No.”
She could have spent the rest of her life lying here listening to him read, but she was desperate for him to kiss her.
She squirmed with anticipation. Her heart was pounding. When he looked into her eyes she saw something different there, and was breathlessly aware that he knew everything there was to know about her. She no longer had anything left to hide.
She’d always thought intimacy was a physical thing, but now she realized it was so much more complicated than that. It was about knowing someone. Really knowing them. Not just their body, but what was inside their head.
He lowered his head and kissed her gently and she kissed him back, tasting, breathing, holding, exploring. He eased off her clothes and she did the same with his. His shoulders were broad and bronzed and she wondered if it was shallow of her to like the way he looked so much.
“I love your body.” He slid his mouth over her skin and she was glad she was lying down otherwise she would definitely have lost her balance. When he touched her it made her head swim, not in the way alcohol did but in a dizzying way that it was impossible to describe. He made her feel delicate even though she’d been convinced for years that she was unbreakable. She thought of herself as tough, and yet Etienne turned her to jelly. Her thoughts slid away from her until she was aware only of the slide of his mouth on hers, the touch of his hands and the words he whispered in her ear.
Being with him made her feel something she’d never felt before.
It was perfect, not just because he was skilled and clever, but because he was Etienne. She wrapped her arms around him, opening not just her body but her heart. For the first time in her life she was with someone who really knew her, who cared about her.
For the first time in her life she felt truly happy.
If only this feeling could last forever.
Grace
“I’ve never been to a concert before. I mean, apart from school concerts, but those don’t count.” Audrey shifted in her seat, and Etienne handed her a bottle of water.
Grace noticed that they couldn’t stop touching each other. Shoulders, arms, fingertips. It was as if they had to be in physical contact at all times. Something had changed, she could see that.
“When you said his name was Philippe, I didn’t realize he was the Philippe.” Etienne slid glasses onto his nose and read the program. “I heard him play in Paris a few years ago. My mother loves him. I bought her his Mozart recordings for Christmas.”
“Who knew you were such a culture vulture?” Audrey took a swig of her water. “Grace loves him, too, don’t you, Grace?”
Grace ignored her cheeky grin. “I love his playing.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know that’s not what you meant.” She glanced up as the orchestra took their seats. She’d seen Philippe play as a student and he’d been good then, but she knew this was going to be an entirely different experience.
“Are you sure you don’t love more than his playing? Because you’ve been smiling a lot since you had dinner. And I notice you’re wearing the blue dress again.” Audrey nudged her and craned her neck. “Is that him? Why is he last? He’s late. Will they fire him?”
“He’s not late. He’s the soloist so he comes on last.”
“Oh, I get it, so he gets the attention. A bit like rocking up late to a party and making an entrance. One of the girls in my year does that. It’s super annoying, in fact. Can we wave?”
“No.” Grace joined the audience in applause as Philippe strode to the piano, gave a brief bow to acknowledge the audience and then sat down.
“He’s seriously hot.” Audrey spoke in a whisper and caught Etienne’s eye. “I mean, for an older guy, obviously. What are you doing? You can’t kiss me here. This is not the back row of the movies.”
“I’m stopping you talking.”
“I’ll stop talking once the music starts.”
Despite the disapproving murmurings of the people behind her, Grace couldn’t help smiling. They were so completely enchanted by one another that it almost hurt to watch.
Had she and David ever been like that? Yes, they had. She remembered a concert where they’d left in the interval because they’d both found it impossible to keep their hands off each other.
What did the future hold for Audrey and Etienne?
Grace breathed deeply.
She wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t going to turn into a bitter, twisted divorcée who thought all relationships were doomed. You had to approach life with optimism and hope, otherwise where was the pleasure? Where was the fun? Better to hope for the best and deal with the worst, than expect the worst and miss the best.
Philippe’s fingers flew over the keys, stroking, coaxing, seducing each note from the piano. She knew he wasn’t thinking about her. He wasn’t thinking about anything. He was lost in the music, unaware of his surroundings, and she was lost, too.
Her mind wandered along with the notes. She’d listened to this concerto a thousand times in her kitchen but she’d forgotten how different it was to hear music live. Suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of returning to her little town in Connecticut. It no longer felt safe and secure, it felt stifling. The place was tied up with a life that was in the past. It no longer felt like hers. The idea of leaving and living somewhere else had never entered her head, but it did now. Why not? Once she and David sold the house she could do what she liked. Sophie was off to college and she knew Mimi would be excited to know Grace was moving on with her life. She’d miss her friends at the school, but she could teach anywhere. Maybe even here, in Paris.
She straightened her shoulders, invigorated by the music.
Why was she waiting for David to mention divorce? Why couldn’t she be the one to do it?
The concert passed in a flash and when applause exploded across the auditorium, Audrey leaned toward Grace.
“That sounded like the music you play when you’re cooking.”
“It is the music I play when I’m cooking.”
Still clapping, Audrey winked at her. “So you hadn’t altogether forgotten about Philippe, then, even though you were married to David.”
All around them people were standing and stamping their feet and Audrey stood up and tugged Grace up, too.
“This is fun. And I actually like this Mozart guy. Color me shocked. It’s a shame they don’t let you dance, because I could have totally danced to that. His music is pretty cool. I like the rhythm and it’s kind of happy.”
“I’m sure Mozart would be thrilled and proud to know he’d won you over.”
Audrey chortled with laughter. “Yeah, well, he should be because I’m a tough audience when it comes to brainy stuff.”
“Don’t put yourself down. It’s just music, that’s all. You can enjoy it the same way you enjoy other types of music.”
