Page 75 of Thirty Days in Paris

Laughing, Juliet jumped into the front seat. Olivier raised his arm to wave them goodbye as Nathalie pulled away from the kerb. Juliet began to feel the tug of separation anxiety as he disappeared from view.

‘It went OK, then?’

‘Yeah, it was OK,’ said Juliet with mock understatement.

‘Good for you.’ Nathalie grinned. ‘You don’t often see a woman of our age with a smile like that on her face.’

Juliet felt as if her head was still in the 11th. Her mouth was swollen from kissing. Her skin still tingled from the scrape of his six o’clock shadow. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d only had two hours’ sleep. Not because of a man, anyway. Chickenpox and teething, maybe.

‘Gueule de bois?’ asked Nathalie.

‘No,’ said Juliet. ‘We didn’t drink that much. A Kir and a bottle of wine.’

‘Drunk on love, huh?’

‘You could say that.’ She was having flashbacks of the evening, and she felt her cheeks go pink. They’d always had chemistry, but they’d both learned a lot in the intervening years.

‘So what happens now?’

‘It’s just a fling. While I’m here. Just a bit of fun.’

Nathalie looked sideways at her. ‘Sure it is.’

‘It has to be. I mean, I live in England and he lives in Paris.’

‘Well, you’d better make the most of it. As long as it doesn’t take your mind off the job in hand.’

‘Of course not.’ She stared out of the window. ‘He cried, you know.’

‘Oh, God. You must have been good.’

‘His apartment is to die for.’

‘Did you get pictures?’

‘I didn’t.’ She smirked. ‘There wasn’t time.’

‘That’s an epic fail.’

‘You can come for apèro,’ said Juliet airily. ‘We’ll drink Campari soda and I’ll make gougères and show you around.’

Nathalie shot her an amused glance. ‘Maybe split the difference between insecure and overconfident?’

Juliet laughed. She felt slightly hysterical. Slightly hysterical and ridiculously happy.

Her phoned tinged and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She wasn’t going to look at it straight away. She folded her arms and leaned back in her seat.

‘For God’s sake, see what it says!’ said Nathalie. ‘Who else is it going to be at this hour of the morning?’

Juliet leaned forward and grabbed the phone out of her bag.

‘Tu me manques,’ she read.

‘I miss you,’ sighed Nathalie. ‘Oh. My. God. You’re living the dream for all of us, baby.’

37

The food market at Rungis was on the outskirts of the south-east of the city, by Orly airport.

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