by C. J. Duggan
Cecile nodded. ‘Of course, I am very sorry to see you go. I hope you have enjoyed your stay here in Paris.’ Her eyes were kind, and I could tell it pained her to do her usual checkout spiel, knowing full well that Paris was not going to be the city of love for me – far from it. I had hoped to take to the city like a true natural and that maybe Liam and I could return here every year for the anniversary of our engagement. But now I thought if I never saw that tower again, it would be too soon.
‘I did,’ I lied. ‘Thank you for everything. You have been very kind.’
Cecile’s beaming smile was back once more, her eyes alight as she stood tall with pride.
‘De rien, merci beaucoup.’
I smiled. ‘Am I okay to leave my bags here?’
‘Oui, I’ll have Gaston take them for you.’
‘Merci,’ I said, quietly. I felt like I was annihilating such beautiful words with my accent.
In the restaurant I was greeted by the familiar sight of Simone, a bored waitress from Tottenham who wore her hair in an impossibly high topknot bun. From the intel I had gathered over the weekend, she had been working at Hotel Trocadéro near on three months, didn’t speak French but made it work, seeing as a lot of tourists stayed here. Cathy, the other breakfast girl, was a local.
‘Fake it till you make it,’ Simone said with a wink. ‘Where’s your man?’
‘Oh, um, he’s in the shower,’ I said, masking my lying mouth by sipping my coffee.
‘So you heading back then, to London?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, and you?’
‘Oh, don’t even, I’m trying to stick it out just to prove to my ex that I can live without him.’
That got my attention. ‘And how is that working for you?’
‘He’s here every bloody weekend.’ She laughed, rolling her eyes.
‘Oh.’ My shoulders sagged. I had hoped she was about to tell me a heroic tale of girl power and self-discovery, not weekend booty calls, mid-week mind games and text arguments. I zoned out after a while, a glazed look in my eyes, until they refocused on a figure standing at reception, talking to Cecile.
Liam smiled at Cecile, thanking her for what could only be assumed was the message she had passed on for me, then he tentatively turned to the restaurant and approached me. Simone had mercifully moved onto the next table to address a dirty spoon crisis, as Liam arrived before me. His dark eyes glanced at the empty chair, silently asking permission to sit.
When I didn’t respond he took it as a yes and pulled out the chair. I looked straight into his eyes with a deadpan expression; I wanted him to feel my pain, my disappointment, my heartbreak.
‘I’ve ordered a taxi for ten fifteen,’ he said.
I lifted my chin, giving nothing away.
‘Do you have everything?’ he asked, like he always did. Always the control freak.
‘Of course,’ I snapped.
‘Well, I think the trip home will give us the chance to … talk.’
I shrugged. ‘Why wait?’
Liam sighed. ‘Claire, please don’t be—’
‘What? Difficult? Sorry, but you don’t get to call the shots, not on this.’
Liam shifted in his seat, smiling painfully at the couple at the next table, before he turned back to me, leaning forward. ‘The taxi will be here soon.’
‘Okay, well, until then we have some time to kill.’ I wasn’t backing down on this, no way, no how. I crossed my arms and sat back in my chair, staring him down, much like the suited Frenchman had done to me yesterday. Who’d have thought I would actually be grateful to him for showing me how it’s really done? Liam swallowed, shifting once more in his seat.
Ha! What do you know? It really does work!
Truth be known, I didn’t really want to talk, not here or on the train. I had nothing in my head, no begging requests for him to take me back, no heartfelt speech to give; nothing. But seeing as the ball was in my court, a situation that was so rare in our relationship, I wanted to at least say something, and the only thing that had sprung to mind was the very same question I had asked myself on the long, rainy walk back to the hotel.
I looked at Liam, my hard stare finally faltering. ‘Why?’
It was the simplest of words but held the most meaning, and I knew it was the very question that Liam had been dreading, if the look on his face was anything to go by.
COMING SOON,
THE THIRD BOOK IN
THE HEART OF THE CITY SERIES:
C.J. Duggan is the internationally bestselling author of the Summer, Paradise and Heart of the City series who lives with her husband in a rural border town of New South Wales. When she isn’t writing books about swoon-worthy men, you’ll find her renovating her hundred-year-old Victorian homestead or annoying her local travel agent for a quote to escape the chaos.
CJDugganbooks.com
twitter.com/CJ_Duggan
facebook.com/CJDugganAuthor
ALSO BY C.J. DUGGAN:
THE PARADISE SERIES – SEXY AUSTRALIAN NEW-ADULT ROMANCE FULL OF SUN, SURF AND STEAMY SUMMER NIGHTS. THERE’S BOUND TO BE TROUBLE IN PARADISE …
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Copyright
Published in Australia and New Zealand in 2017
by Hachette Australia
(an imprint of Hachette Australia Pty Limited)
Level 17, 207 Kent Street, Sydney NSW 2000
www.hachette.com.au
Copyright © C.J. Duggan 2017
This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be stored or reproduced by any process without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the National Library of Australia.
978 0 7336 3664 6
978 0 7336 3667 7 (ebook edition)
Cover design by Keary Taylor
Cover photographs courtesy of Shutterstock
Author photograph by Craig Peihopa
