by Lost
Perhaps it was the phone call from her mum – it had been so reassuring to hear her voice – but Sophie felt different today. Essentially, she hadn’t had any real answers to the mystery surrounding her mum’s disappearance, but hearing her voice had somehow made all the difference in the world. Maybe Raff thought that Sophie had missed her mum’s desperate attempt trying to distract her when they had talked on the phone last week. But she hadn’t. Sophie was very aware that her mum had done her level best to lead her away from whatever was going wrong with her, because the business was absolutely fine and even if it could benefit from a few changes here and there, they were definitely not essential right at this minute.
However, Sophie had to admit that she half welcomed the distraction, even if she wasn’t fooled by it, because it was better than dwelling on what might be going on with her mum. Sophie squashed down the flash of anxiety that shot through her as all the questions and doubt began to rise again, and instead she turned her attention back to Raff.
‘Macaron flavours?’ she suggested. ‘Not my area of expertise at all, but probably the thing you’re going to get the most excited about.’
Raff brightened. ‘Yes! Perfect. Ok. So here are my thoughts: I don’t think we should go too radical on that front because Mariele is such a traditionalist. But I do think I could trial a few new flavours and maybe combine a few. So we’re keeping it classical, but just… putting a fresh spin on it.’
‘Sounds good,’ Sophie nodded. ‘So what are you thinking?’
‘Well. Mariele loves the champagne macaron so I thought I’d do a gold sparkle version of that.’ Raff started scribbling on his notepad. ‘And maybe something like… strawberry and lemonade? I love orange blossom as well. And we always have a white chocolate one so I thought I’d add mango to it. Or apricot… I also think we should be more seasonal with the macarons… like gingerbread at Christmas, or a chocolate and orange combination, perhaps. Cinnamon and nutmeg in the Autumn…’
Sophie put her chin in her hands as she watched Raff think aloud and sketch out his ideas. He was becoming more and more animated as he came up with flavour thoughts, rejecting a few and crossing them out. Sophie watched his hair become messier as he raked his hands through it, pausing at one point mid-clutch, before he let it go when he finalised his flavour combo.
He looked… sexy, Sophie decided rather reluctantly. God. Raff was an attractive guy; there was no doubt about that. But there was something sexy about how passionate he was about what he did. And he was so good at it too. Raff had always been fanatical about food and about being a pastry chef. And about macarons – even though they weren’t the most manly of creations in some people’s eyes.
What was happening to her, Sophie thought, shocked? She had only just come out of a long-term relationship with Ryan – the man she had thought she might marry, so why on earth was she suddenly thinking about how attractive Raff was? Sophie felt her cheeks flush slightly. She still hadn’t said sorry to Raff for leaving all those years ago and for not giving him a chance to explain himself. But Sophie hadn’t worked out the right words yet. Were there ‘right words’ for what she’d done?
‘Well, that all sounds great,’ she interjected briskly, cutting Raff off even though she wasn’t sure why.
Raff looked up and raised his eyebrows. Why was Sophie looking at him like that? She was staring at him with a weird look on her face. Raff was annoyed that he couldn’t seem to read her any more. He used to be able to so well; Sophie had been a woman who always wore her heart on her sleeve, and her emotions usually had flitted across her face before she was able to stop them. But she was more guarded now. Maybe it was down to the relationship she’d recently been in, Raff wondered. He really wanted to ask her about that.
‘Sorry,’ Sophie said abruptly.
‘What for?’ Raff asked.
‘Umm…’ Sophie paused. This was the perfect moment to apologise. But she couldn’t seem to form the words. Sophie was cross with herself. She wasn’t the kind of girl who struggled to say sorry. Not ever. So what was stopping her now? Sophie could only imagine it was because the one required in these circumstances was such a huge apology, such a tremendously poignant sorry, that she struggled to find the right words.
‘I’m… sorry I interrupted you,’ she offered lamely instead.
Raff smiled, his eyes smiling too. ‘Don’t be silly, Soph. I know I get carried away when I’m talking about my work. I was going off on a tangent talking about all the flavour combinations and I could literally have carried on for hours.’
Sophie laughed. ‘I believe you.’
‘Right. So you can leave it with me to trial some of these flavours. I promise I won’t go too mad with it and do anything your mum might be horrified by.’
‘Great.’
Sophie found herself smiling warmly at him. Wow, she thought, biting her lip. She needed to be careful. She didn’t want to start feeling anything other than friendship for Raff now that she knew the truth behind their break up all those years ago. Her life was complicated enough as it was. And… apart from this specific time in her life when it was necessary for her to be here, Sophie lived in England now. And Raff lived in Paris. So… that was that. Even if there was even the remotest possibility that Raff might have any feelings for her – and Sophie was sure there wasn’t – it just wouldn’t work.
Raff studied Sophie. She had a lot of thoughts going on in her head; that much was clear. Her thoughts were flashing across her face, but they were disappearing too quickly for him to make any sense out of them.
She also looked absurdly pretty today, Raff decided, running his eyes over her. Not pretty – beautiful, in fact. She was wearing a short dress with a flared skirt that if he’d been more in the know he would have called it a ‘skater’ dress and it was pale blue. She’d thrown a leather, biker-style jacket over it and teamed it with pink Converse trainers. It was a look she had favoured when she lived in Paris years ago and Raff had always liked it. It personified pretty and edgy and cute… everything that she was. Her long dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders, giving her whole look a relaxed vibe.
Raff was startled to find that he didn’t want to tear his eyes away from her. He was jolted by the sudden realisation that she hadn’t changed much, and even though there were parts of him that still prickled with fury at how unfair the end of their relationship had been, he was more delighted than he had originally appreciated, by the fact that she was back in his life, albeit probably briefly.
Raff stared at Sophie and Sophie stared right back. What was happening? Sophie felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her. Lust, perhaps? She had always thought Raff was the best-looking guy she’d ever met – even compared to the chiselled features Ryan had boasted. But no, it was more than that… it was… oh god… Sophie felt a sliding feeling in her stomach.
Raff swallowed. He had just seen something in Sophie’s eyes. But… surely he was mistaken. It had looked rather like… no, he must have her wrong. The look in her eyes had reminded him of the old days. It made his whole body come alive and feel as if it had been lit up all over. It made him want to kiss her and be with her and throw caution to the wind and just… feel everything he had felt with her when they were together.
Was he smiling like an absolute idiot, Raff wondered? He thought he probably was. And that would never do. Raff was aware that he could easily fall in love with Sophie again. In lust, in love and everything in between. But he was sure she didn’t feel the same so he was going to do whatever he could to shoot down any emerging feelings down. Feeling anything for Sophie would be totally pointless.
Raff pulled himself back to the present. They had been tasked with something by Mariele and they owed it to her to follow it through. He cleared his throat and prepared to focus on the matter in hand and adopt a businesslike tone.
‘So, what about the colour scheme?’
Sophie swallowed. She felt as though something had just happened: a connection had ripple
d between them and it had been tangible. She had felt it and she was pretty sure Raff had felt it too, but now it had disappeared Sophie started wondering if she had imagined it. All she knew was that she hadn’t felt this way since she and Raff had split up. She hadn’t felt this way with Ryan. Not once. It had been real and genuine but different. Sophie had assumed that her relationship with Ryan hadn’t been heady and intoxicating and crazy because it wasn’t what she wanted. But here she was feeling all of those things again and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She felt that way because it was Raff and that was what they had always had.
Sophie focused herself on Raff’s question.
‘The colour scheme. Er… well. I rather like the pink if I’m totally honest. I mean, I think Ladurée have it covered with that gorgeous greeny-blue colour. They’re the original creators of the macaron and the colour scheme is so distinctive. Obviously they use all the pastel colours on and off… so they have a pink – although not the same shade as ours and they use a lavender sometimes. Pierre Hermé has a modern, classic look with the initials that’s cool and stylish.’
‘So you don’t think we should change it?’ Raff leant back in his chair, feeling that a bit of space between might be in order.
‘I don’t know,’ Sophie admitted. ‘Maybe I’m being self-indulgent.’
‘Self-indulgent? How so?’
Sophie stood up and picked up a box from the counter. ‘This really reminds me of my childhood, you know? It’s synonymous with my mum and this business and the macarons and with everything that’s… her.’
Involuntarily, Raff felt himself soften inside. When Sophie spoke about her mum, she looked vulnerable and young and Raff realised how much she must miss her and how consumed with anxiety about her absence she must be.
‘Ok, so let’s not do anything to change that,’ Raff said. ‘If it’s synonymous for you, why wouldn’t it be for other people? Perhaps we should just leave that as it is.’
Sophie held the box up. ‘I just wonder if we could… keep the pink and perhaps add something else? Not gold as that’s too Ladurée. Silver? Stripes or spots… no, not spots. I don’t know.’
‘How about something floral?’ Raff suggested. ‘A silver flower design all over the box?’
‘Yes! That sounds beautiful. And I love that idea. It means we can keep the gorgeous, pastel pink colour and stay true to mum’s original thoughts for the macarons.’ Sophie felt excited. ‘But by adding something like that, it will give the boxes a lovely, fresh look. It should be…’ She stared at the box. ‘delicate and pretty. I could really see that working.’
Raff nodded. ‘Me too.’ He liked watching Sophie collate her thoughts. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright and she looked enthusiastic and… distracted from the bigger issues going on in her life. Which had to be a good thing.
‘I’ll start working on a design,’ Sophie was saying. ‘I know the sort of flower I’m thinking of would be absolutely perfect. And I think mum would love it.’ Her face fell slightly at her own mention of her mum.
Raff jumped in to change her focus. ‘That sounds amazing. So, you work on that and I’ll sort the flavour changes. What else? We could… have a mini launch to celebrate the re-brand? Maybe we should go a bit old school and go round some of the famous macaron shops in Paris to see how they do things? Not to copy, but just to…’
‘See if it sparks off other ideas,’ Sophie finished, placing the box back on the counter. ‘No, I totally get that. My boss Pinter often goes to visit other photographic studios because it sets off his own creativity. He’s a complete original; he would never steal someone else’s work, but he always says it gives him fresh ideas and he comes back all invigorated and fired up.’
‘I like the sound of him,’ Raff commented. ‘The way you describe him, he sounds like a real character.’
‘You’d love him,’ Sophie admitted. She could see them getting on famously actually. ‘He’s due over here soon for a wedding, so you’ll get to meet him then.’
Raff checked his watch. ‘Should we make a move to Eloise’s? She said she was doing lunch early I think.’
Sophie nodded. ‘I completely forgot about that. Yes, definitely. Let’s go.’ She helped Raff clear away and they stepped out into the sunshine.
‘Do you feel different about Paris?’ Raff asked curiously as they strolled towards the nearest Métro entrance.
‘Different?’ Sophie gazed up at him. ‘In what way?’
‘I always assumed you fell out of love with Paris,’ Raff said. ‘As well as…’ His voice trailed off. Mon Dieu. Where was he going with that comment?
‘I thought I had too actually,’ Sophie admitted honestly. ‘But I’m starting to fall in love with… er… it all over again.’ She turned her face away, knowing she must be blushing. She had almost fluffed that sentence. She really needed to get a grip of herself. And she still needed to make that apology.
They didn’t speak on the Métro as it was too loud and busy, and when they emerged at the other end, Sophie still wasn’t sure what to say. They walked the scenic route to Eloise’s house alongside the Seine, and Sophie stopped to admire it. She wasn’t sure how many bridges crossed it, but she guessed it was close to forty. And she knew there were several others outside the city. Her favourite was Pont Neuf – which translated as ‘New Bridge’ – because it looked stunning when the sun set over it and Sophie liked the arches and the stone masks that adorned the sides. From the right angle, it was the perfect setting to highlight the Eiffel Tower in the background. A Bateau Mouche, one of the well-known excursion boats that ferried tourists up and down the Seine to see all the sights of the city, sailed past, full of passengers with their cameras and mobile phones out as they captured the beauty of Paris. The Musée D’Orsay, the Notre-Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre.
‘Sorry, let’s go,’ Sophie said, realising she was slowing them down. ‘I can stare at the Seine another time when I’m on my own.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Raff laughed. ‘I actually like looking at the sights of Paris with you. I look at them with fresh eyes instead of just rushing to get on with my life without appreciating how stunning it is.’
They carried on walking and within a few minutes, they turned onto the quiet residential street that crossed both the 7th and 6th arrondissements. In a row of houses split into apartments on different levels, Eloise and Georges owned a rather grand house with four good-sized bedrooms with balconies, a large living area, a surprisingly modern kitchen that didn’t fit with the traditional feel of the rest of the house and a private courtyard lined with cherry trees and flowery shrubs.
Sophie realised, not the first time, that Georges must have done tremendously well for himself. The house was an enviable gem in the centre of Paris and the pretty, secluded courtyard area was a rare find. She glanced at Raff. She really should say something about their break up. If she didn’t say something now, they would get caught up in Eloise’s demands to know every nuance of their mother’s voice during the recent phone call while she put together an elaborate dinner that was a fitting testament to the domestic goddess she embodied. Georges would be waxing lyrical about his job and still, no one would be any the wiser about what he did, and Eloise’s two boys, Sophie’s boisterous nephews, would be dashing about like crazy things and shrieking at the top of their voices as they mimicked dinosaurs or pretended to be astronauts or cowboys while punching the hell out of one another.
‘Raff.’ Sophie stopped dead in the middle of the street.
‘Yes?’ Raff turned and looked at her. ‘Are you ok?’
‘Yes. No. Yes.’ Sophie shook her head. ‘I just wanted to say something before we go in.’
‘About your mum?’
‘Er… no. About you. Us. I mean… us before… this. God.’ Sophie faltered.
Raff turned round and stood in front of her. His heart was thumping in his chest somewhat, but he said nothing and waited.
Sophie nervously
scooped her hair up and dropped it over one shoulder for no other reason than because it gave her time to think. ‘I… was talking to Coco at the museum the other day and she started telling me about Estelle.’
Raff raised his eyebrows. Coco rarely spoke about her mum. And the fact that she was talking about her to Sophie showed how much she trusted her. Feeling uncomfortable and unsure about what was coming, Raff thrust his hands into his pockets.
‘It’s… I didn’t realise that you… I assumed and I shouldn’t have done… and it’s all my fault and now I feel so guilty and horrible and I don’t know how you’re even speaking to me and I’m so incredibly sorry and I meant to say it the other day at the Louvre and then mum called and…’
Without even stopping to think, Raff stepped forward and took Sophie’s hand. ‘Wow. Stop.’
Sophie breathlessly stopped talking. She looked down at Raff’s hand holding hers and felt herself coming undone. How was he able to do that to her with a mere touch?
‘Ok.’ Raff took a deep breath. ‘You’re saying that Coco told you I knew nothing about her until Estelle turned up with her in tow?’
Sophie nodded, feeling agonised. ‘I thought you must have known. I couldn’t understand why you might have lied to me about something so huge and I was young and stupid and I think I cut my nose off to spite my face and you must have hated me.’
Raff pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of Sophie’s head. Her hair smelt lovely but different from how he remembered and it just felt so right to have his arms wrapped around her.
Sophie leant into him. She couldn’t help it. It felt too good.
‘Look. I was heartbroken when you left,’ Raff confessed, staying where he was. He knew that if he looked into her eyes, he probably wouldn’t be able to say what he wanted and needed to say now that he and Sophie were finally having this conversation.
‘Heartbroken,’ Raff repeated, ‘and gutted that you wouldn’t respond when I tried to get in touch with you so I could explain. But I get that it looked bad. And I can understand why you might have assumed that I already knew about it. But I can promise you, I didn’t.’
