Page 116 of Sinful Escape

He hummed a tune and seemed blissfully happy. This was yet another first. William had detested cooking. Pierre’s face, however, held an expression of perpetual joy as he flitted from the hot plates to the chopping block to the oven.

“What’re you making?”

“For you, mon beau, ricotta crepes with caramelized pears.”

“Sounds yummy.”

“Wait till you taste them.”

“I can already tell they’re going to be delicious.”

After sampling the sauce with a tiny spoon, he added a shake of spice and stirred it with a wooden spatula. Pierre scooped out another spoonful, but this time he reached over the counter for me to taste.

I couldn’t help the roll of my eyes as I savored the buttery caramel sauce. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”

“Excellent. It is ready.”

As he served up breakfast, I followed his instructions to fill two coffee mugs from the percolator in the corner. We sat outside to eat and with each mouthful, I surrendered to pure bliss. The caramelized pears were a perfect accompaniment to the creamy ricotta, and the crepes were just the right amount of butter and crispiness. Pierre had elevated himself from a good chef to an exceptional one.

We didn’t rush our meal and again, our conversation flowed perfectly.

The view beyond his balcony presented a different aspect during the day. Directly below was the courtyard belonging to the apartment downstairs. Based on the plump tomatoes adorning the lush green bushes, the occupant was obviously a keen gardener. Their collection of gnomes, statues, and ornaments gave it a cottage theme. Beyond their back fence was a large park, complete with a set of children’s swings that remained unused the entire time we were out there.

I was genuinely sad when Pierre mentioned he had to get ready for work.

After we cleaned our dishes, he wrapped his arms around me. The pleasure of that simple move had me glowing both inside and out.

He pulled back and kissed my forehead. “S’il vous plaît, you return very soon. Yes?”

“I do believe I will,” I responded without hesitation.

Damn, it felt good.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I slept for most of the two-and-half-hour train trip to London and arrived just after midday. Floating on a cloud of wonderful, I walked to my home in Soho.

The three-story, brown-bricked townhouse was incredibly ugly on the outside, and the elderly couple who’d bought it in the 1970s hadn’t done anything to improve the internal appeal either. Fortunately for me, they struggled to use the stairs, and once their children had moved out, they opened the loft on the top floor for rent.

I pushed through the front door, and upon smelling sausages cooking, made my way to the kitchen at the back of the building. Edna had her back to me and was hunched over the stove. “Hello, Edna.”

She turned with a pained smile. Edna was in her eighties and was riddled with arthritis. Nearly every movement hurt. “How are you, love?”

“I’m good, thanks. How about you?”

“Oh, you know. Some parts good. Some parts bad. How was your trip?”

We made small talk for about ten minutes, and after declining her offer of bangers and mash for dinner, I made my way up the two flights of stairs.

My room was just that . . . one room containing my bed, a small table, and one chair. There was a tiny kitchenette with a freestanding cupboard that held my microwave and stored a mismatched collection of crockery and cutlery Edna had given me and a tiny fridge that was nearly always empty.

A set of three drawers just inside the door housed all my clothes, and I shared the bathroom on the second floor with Edna and Dave. Fortunately, our different schedules meant I rarely bumped into them.

A stack of books made into a steeple in the corner of my room was my only attempt at decorating.

The best aspect of my room was the balcony. It was so small it barely fit a chair, but the view encompassed red terracotta rooftops on a row of terrace housing, and down the street was a small park with a huge English oak tree that was reported to be more than six hundred years old. It was the only greenery in sight.

I tried to visit the tree at least once during each of my breaks. Maybe this break, I’d actually take my book and soak up some sunshine. Weather permitting, of course.

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