Beneath the Parisian Skies

by Alli Sinclair

  ‘None taken.’ A hiccup escaped and she giggled. ‘Good grief. That absh…absh…shtuff is potent, eh?’

  ‘It is indeed. I am sorry, I didn’t realise it would affect you as much as it has.’

  She waved her hand in the air. ‘Pfft. Don’t worry about me. I’m having fun!’

  She broke free of his embrace and threw her arms in the air and spun. When she stopped her head kept spinning and she staggered one way, then another.

  ‘Hold tight, ma chérie. We will get you home in no time.’

  ‘I don’t wanna go home! That’s boring! Hey, I’m in Parish. Show me the sightsh!’

  Yves stopped walking and frowned. As he remained deep in thought she clung to him like a life raft in a sea of absinthe. The trees in the park nearby waved in the breeze, including the thick tree trunks. Oh…wait…Clutching his arm tighter, she said, ‘Take me somewhere intereshting.’

  ‘I know just the place!’ Yves wrapped a protective arm around her and they set off at a pace that allowed Lily to walk without tripping.

  They sauntered a few blocks and crossed a plaza populated by chestnut trees. The trunks had ceased swaying and her head had cleared a fraction—just enough to let Yves’s joke about her and men kick her in the guts. Her shoulders tensed and her happy-drunk demeanour took a small dive.

  ‘What is wrong? Do you feel ill?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Then…’ He punctuated this with a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ There she went, clamming up as per usual. The buzz she’d experienced from absinthe flittered away into the inky black sky.

  ‘It is obvious something is bothering you. If it’s because I won’t—’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with that.’ Although if he still wished to take advantage of her, she’d be willing. Maybe that was the only way to shift these heavy feelings about Aiden. Perhaps sleeping with a long line of men…God almighty! Will you listen to yourself, Johansson?

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘I’m fine, seriously.’ She plastered on a fake smile. ‘You’re showing me something interesting, right? What could be better than that?’

  Yves pressed his forehead against hers, his warm breath drifting across her cool skin. Her legs shook, this time from anticipation, not excess alcohol. Wrapping her arms around his waist, his breath fell into the same rhythm as hers. Stroking her hair, Yves placed his lips on hers, and she tilted her head back, allowing the moment of bliss to envelop her. Hands wandered, breaths grew shallow, and a different kind of buzz made her senses alive.

  ‘It appears you are a little less drunk.’ Yves nuzzled her neck as her knees grew weak.

  ‘It appears I am.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  ‘Perhaps I will show you the interesting place tomorrow.’

  ‘Maybe there are other interesting things to do now.’

  Yves’s hand rested in the hollow of her back and he drew her against him. She didn’t argue. She truly liked this Frenchman so why not enjoy the few days they could have together before her return to Australia? Although retreating to her hometown and locking herself away had lost its appeal…

  ‘You think too much.’ Yves ran his fingers down the side of her neck and across her collarbone.

  ‘You have some weird ability to get in my head.’ She put her finger under his chin and guided his face closer to hers. Their lips met and she felt the pangs of a very deep like for Yves developing. Guilt tugged at her conscience but she swatted it away. She was in her twenties for God’s sake! Sliding her hand along the back of his neck, she whispered, ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Yves took her hand in his and they hurried across the plaza, their steps growing faster. All Lily could think about was jumping this gorgeous, caring, devilishly sexy Frenchman.

  ‘Your apartment is closer, right?’ Her breath came out in short, sharp bursts.

  ‘Good idea. Here,’ he pointed to an intersection, ‘this is a short cut.’

  They rounded the corner and hurried down two blocks. The place felt familiar but the dark shadows and snippets of streetlight could have been playing tricks on her. When they reached the next corner Lily’s feet stopped and refused to move. A stab of pain caught in her throat and she dropped Yves’s hand as an icy chill ran up her spine.

  ‘What is wrong?’ The concern in his eyes only made it worse.

  She stared at the the street sign—Avenue Victor Hugo.

  Aiden’s street.

  CHAPTER

  25

  ‘Lily?’ Yves gently wrapped his warm fingers around her icy digits.

  She continued to stare at the street sign, unable to move her feet or mouth.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  The lettering of Avenue Victor Hugo jumbled and swirled together, like some strange effect from absinthe, although she’d sobered up completely.

  ‘Please, Lily, answer me.’ The concern in Yves’s voice brought her back. His worried eyes searched hers.

  ‘History,’ she rasped.

  ‘Yes, this street is famous. The Hunchback of Notre—’

  ‘My history, not Victor Hugo’s.’

  ‘I’m afraid I do not understand.’

  ‘It’s too…’ Painful. Her eyes scratched from not blinking. ‘It’s time.’

  ‘Time for what?’

  The sigh that escaped her lips was long and weary. ‘Time for me to go home.’

  She marched away as fast as she could, desperate to put distance between her and the avenue. How ridiculous to think she could get involved in a relationship without dealing with her own shit first.

  Yves strode beside her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Thankfully, he had the good sense not to question her change in mood. He seemed lost in thought as he kept pace with her.

  Her heart went out to him.

  ‘You need a full explanation,’ she finally said.

  Yves stopped under the streetlight. A haze danced around his tall frame. ‘Yes, I do.’

  A feeling of relief spread through her. Perhaps she had been more ready for this than she’d thought. Cold bit through Lily’s thin coat and she shivered. ‘Let’s find somewhere warm to talk, okay?’

  ‘Sure.’ His eyes didn’t meet hers and she had no idea if he was annoyed with her behaviour or if he was wrestling with his own thoughts. Maybe it was time for them both to share.

  * * *

  The waiter brought over two hot chocolates and placed them on the table. Bright lights made the room a stark contrast to the Bar du Sully. The cold from outside that had chilled her bones was now a distant memory as she shed her jacket and enjoyed the warmth of this quaint crowded café.

  ‘I’m glad we found somewhere still open.’ She dropped the marshmallows in the thick, brown liquid. Dipping them with her spoon, she stirred the drink then looked over at Yves, who popped the fluffy sugar balls in his mouth.

  ‘There is always somewhere open, no matter what time of day or night.’ He sipped the drink then gently placed it on the saucer.

  ‘Sorry I weirded out on you before.’ She kept stirring the drink, even though it was well and truly mixed.

  ‘So it was not just too much alcohol?’

  She shook her head and twisted her mouth, all the while concentrating on the bobbing marshmallows. Fear of opening up crippled her. She had to say something, though. He’d been kind and caring; she at least owed him the facts. No need to get stuck into any heartfelt emotional stuff. That was way too stressful.

  ‘My fiancé died on Avenue Victor Hugo.’ The marshmallows had melted into a gooey, pastel mess on top of the rich chocolate. Thank God she had something else to look at other than the pity that was sure to be in Yves’s eyes. How many times had she witnessed such a look from well-meaning family and friends? The only time she received anything other than that pained, pitiful look was from her sister. The steely accusing eyes were something Lily would never forget.

  Yves’s hand came into view as he reached across t
he table and squeezed her fingers. ‘I am very sorry.’

  She forced a shrug but felt ridiculous for doing so. Of course it bloody hurt to talk about Aiden. Why the hell would she pretend it didn’t? What did it prove?

  ‘You do not need to be brave for me.’ He placed a finger under her chin and gently encouraged her to move her head up so their eyes met. He showed no pity. What she found was understanding.

  A groan left her lips and she held her head in her hands.

  ‘Lily?’

  She looked up and frowned. ‘Why do you have to be so damn nice?’

  ‘My father would not agree with your point of view.’

  ‘I’m serious, Yves. You seem to run with me being so topsy-turvy. One minute I’m all over you, then the next I’m like ice and making you drink hot chocolate.’

  ‘I like hot chocolate.’ His lips kicked into a smile.

  ‘That’s beside the point. Right now we should be having hot sex, not hot chocolate!’

  Leaning in, he said quietly, ‘Believe me, I am wanting hot sex with you.’

  She let that comment settle in her brain and her nether regions. God, she wanted him as badly as he appeared to want her. It would be so easy to jump into bed, do their thing and deal with the consequences tomorrow.

  ‘We can’t,’ she said.

  Yves drew his lips into a tight line.

  ‘I want to but…’

  ‘I understand there is a “but”. Let me say, though, it did not appear to worry you the other night. Or even last night with that kiss that told me you wanted more.’

  ‘I know.’ She sipped the hot chocolate to buy some time. ‘I’m a mess, okay? Returning to Paris was the last thing I wanted to do. I hate this place.’

  ‘Paris is the city of love.’ His tone gave her the impression he thought this was a fact, not just a tourism slogan.

  ‘It’s the city of heartache for me.’ Sure, it sounded dramatic but it was how she felt.

  ‘There is no way I can change this?’

  Lily looked at Yves and her heart crashed against her chest. ‘I would love to change, I really would, but I’m not in any frame of mind to entertain any thoughts about…’ She trailed off, not sure how to say whatever it was that she shared with Yves. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love our connection, I just don’t know—’

  ‘Why do you need to know anything? Why can’t you live in the moment?’

  Lily rested her head in her hands. ‘Every time I try, I’m riddled with guilt. It was a mistake to come here.’

  ‘To the café?’

  Lily looked at the ceiling and shook her head. ‘No, this is fine. It was a mistake to come to Paris.’ She breathed in heavily through her nostrils. Truth swelled within, pushing its way to her vocal cords, pressing against them, forcing its way out. ‘I thought I had the guts to face my demons head-on but I can’t.’

  ‘I understand it is difficult—’

  ‘No one understands.’ It came out with more force than intended. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get defensive but all I’ve had since the accident is people telling me what I should do.’ She paused, then said, ‘That’s why I spend way too much time by myself.’ Yves opened his mouth and she held up her hand. ‘You don’t want to get involved with me. It’s too messy.’

  ‘I just happen to like messes.’ His sweet smile endeared him to her even more. ‘Here.’ He pulled out a pen and business card. He used a hand to shield what he wrote, then folded it in half and handed it over. ‘Please, do not open it now. When you are struggling with your history then maybe this will help.’

  ‘I don’t need any help.’

  ‘Everyone needs help at some point in their life. I suspect this is your time.’

  She shoved the card into her jacket pocket. Lily knew Yves well enough to know his intentions came from a good place, but this was her issue and she had to deal with it her own way. Why change things when denial worked perfectly?

  Liar.

  Yves drank the remainder of the hot chocolate then placed the mug on the table. She did the same, using it as a way to avoid more conversation. The atmosphere had turned uncomfortable and she just wanted to pay and get the hell out of there and back to her apartment—alone. Once more, she craved solitude. It seemed to be the only thing that got her through stressful times.

  Standing, Yves said, ‘Perhaps we should be calling this a night.’

  Lily glanced at her watch. ‘Do you call five am late night or early morning?’

  ‘I call it an interesting time with an interesting woman.’ He opened the door and the bell rang as they exited. She slid her arm through his, enjoying the physical contact again, loving the connection they had. Maybe if they’d met in a different time under different circumstances…

  ‘Lily, do you mind if we meet around six this evening? I am nearly finished with the final touches of the musical score and I’d like you to hear it. You are, after all, my inspiration.’

  ‘Sure. I’m looking forward to hearing it.’ And she was. If she got a few hours sleep now she’d have time to catch up with Natalie—if she could contact her—then fulfil her duty as inspirationist for Yves. As long as they didn’t broach the subject of Aiden she’d be fine.

  ‘Maybe if you tried one more time to go to Avenue—’

  Extracting her arm from his, Lily gripped the straps of her handbag. ‘Please, just let it be.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I get you want to help but bullying me into—’

  ‘I am not bullying.’

  ‘Please, just drop the subject. I’m dealing with it my way.’

  ‘Your way does not appear to be working.’ He jutted out his chin but hurt flashed in his eyes. ‘Sometimes when we are in the midst of our grief—’

  ‘What do you know about it, huh? Who have you ever grieved for?’

  ‘My grandmother. My grandfather.’

  She balled her hands on her hips then realised this stance was not conducive to a civil conversation. Although it didn’t appear they were heading down that road right now. ‘Were you responsible for their deaths?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘So you didn’t have a fight with them and they didn’t pursue you and get hit by a car and die?’ She paused and he stared at her, blinking slowly.

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘I empathise with you losing your grandparents, I really do. But you’ve not been through what I have and you pushing me into doing something I don’t…can’t do…is not helping. I just need some space right now.’ With that she took off down the street, her heels clacking against the pavement. She refused to look back, petrified of the extra guilt she’d feel if she turned around and saw the hurt written across Yves’s face.

  Pain shot through her heels as they pounded against the pavement and she stopped. Jeez. She needed to get over herself and stop being unreasonable and so frigging sensitive. She was being a right royal bitch. What she detested most, though, was the gut feeling that, for the first time since Aiden’s death, she’d found someone who could help her get past that relentless, soul-destroying guilt.

  She gasped.

  Oh God.

  Maybe she didn’t want to get past the grief and guilt.

  Maybe holding on to it was the only thing she knew how to do. After all, it had been part of her life for so long that if she shed it, what would be left?

  Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  What an idiot she’d been. Turning on her heel, she dashed around the corner but Yves had already left. She wasn’t too far from his apartment, so if she hurried, Lily would get there around the same time as Yves. She set off, half running—her evening dress clinging to her ankles. She hitched up the fabric. Clunk, clunk, clunk went her heels as her lungs burned and her breath came out short and sharp. A glimmer of hope filled her heart.

  Lily dashed past cafés brewing fresh coffee and bakers preparing the pastries and breads that would shortly be served on tables across Paris. Sunlight filtered th
rough the leafy trees, a blue sky welcoming Parisians to a day of warmth and happiness in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Beautiful, yes. Stunning, yes. Romantic, hell no. Well…

  That’s not romance with Yves, Johansson, that’s just sex.

  Images flashed before her of Yves holding her hand as they strolled through the deserted streets; Yves’s eyes sparkling under the streetlights when he laughed at one of her jokes, and the way he gently, sensually pressed his lips on hers…

  Halting, she buried her head in her hands and let out a frustrated moan.

  This relationship meant way more to her than sex.

  Looking up, she found herself standing opposite Yves’s apartment. Checking for traffic, she quickly crossed the deserted street and stood at the base of the stone steps. Taking a deep breath, she slowly ascended to his world and with a shaky hand, she pressed the buzzer.

  CHAPTER

  26

  Eight hours later, Lily stood on the steps of Natalie’s apartment block and wrapped her arms around her torso, the cool night air piercing her jacket. She’d spent the day replaying the conversations she’d had with Yves the night before and every time she remembered their parting words, her heart sank. When she’d turned up at his apartment he hadn’t been there and, despite waiting an hour, he never showed. Rather than appear a crazy stalker, she’d gone to her place in the hope he was there. The disappointment that had overwhelmed her when she’d returned to an empty apartment had been unbearable. So rather than spend the day sleeping, like she should have, Lily had stewed, texting and calling Yves and Natalie, and only sunk further into an abyss of self-pity when no one returned her messages.

  Lily pressed the buzzer and it finally was answered on the third ring.

  ‘Oui?’

  Speaking to the microphone, she said, ‘Natalie?’

  Silence.

  Lily shifted from foot to foot. ‘Can I come in. Please?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Nat—’

  ‘I’m not in the mood for visitors.’

  ‘Come on. I’m freezing.’