Page 50 of The Paris Chapter

This was a novel but there was no doubt that part of me was in this character. Like me, my leading lady was about to arrive in Paris lost and believing that love no longer existed. Then she would meet a French man who would show her all Paris had tooffer and slowly her broken heart would heal. I knew writing that part wouldn’t be as easy as the start when I knew exactly how she felt. But I also wasn’t quite in that same place any more. Paris had helped already. Ethan had showed me that I didn’t want to let go of happy ever afters.

By the time my character was meant to leave Paris, she needed to believe in love again. She needed to fall for her Frenchman. And maybe decide to move to the City of Love to be with him. I couldn’t fathom taking such a leap of faith after being so burnt by my last relationship, but I told myself not to worry about that. I just needed to start the story and hope that by the time I got to that part, I would be able to write it.

At least the idea of it all wasn’t filling me with the dread it would have done five days ago.

I took a breath and my fingertips found my laptop keys.

And then I started to type.

22

I was startled by Juliette’s apartment doorbell ringing in the afternoon. I got up stiffly from the writing desk, rolling my neck, which ached after being in a hunched position over my laptop for the first time in months. Pulling open the door, I was surprised to see Ethan standing outside. ‘Oh, I lost track of time,’ I said, then I broke into a smile.

‘You seem happy about that?’ Ethan asked, looking amused.

‘Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a burst of writing like that. I managed to write three chapters, and time slipped away in the best way possible.’

‘That’s great. How do you feel writing again?’

‘Good, I think. I feel rusty from not writing for a while but I actually enjoyed it. It’s so fun taking my main character to Paris. I feel like I really set the scene well, being here myself. Shall we go out? I definitely need some fresh air.’

‘Let’s go.’

Ethan waited as I got my jacket and bag, then we left the apartment to walk to a row of homeware shops he thought I would like. ‘It’s great hearing you sound so enthusiastic aboutwriting,’ Ethan said as we strolled side-by-side. He touched my hand and our fingers entwined easily. ‘I was reading more of your book that I bought on our course lunch break. You’re really talented, Tessa.’

My cheeks heated up from his praise. ‘That means a lot that you think that.’

‘Well, it’s true.’

‘Thank you. And when we’re back in London, I can’t wait to try the food at your restaurant. I know it will be delicious.’

Ethan gave me a cute smile. ‘I will make all your dishes personally.’ Ethan steered us towards a shop. ‘This is one of my favourites. It’s all made in France. Unique to this place. So you’ll be the only one who has a piece if you buy one.’

‘That sounds great. Very different to the high-street stores at home! Juliette’s guest room is so beautiful; I love how she’s styled it. I feel like it’s inspiring me. Right now, my Putney flat is basically a white box.’

Ethan held the shop door open for me and we walked in. ‘That’s how mine was when I moved in too. But I’d picked up a lot when I lived here for a year so once all my things were in there, it felt so much more like home.’

‘I suppose because I lived for six months with Joe, and I haven’t bought anything since I moved into my own flat, I’ve sort of lost what I like when it comes to home décor. His flat was so… plush. And he didn’t want anything changed or moved. I felt like I could never relax,’ I found myself saying as we looked at the vintage-style furniture.

‘Joe’s place never felt like home then?’ Ethan asked me quietly.

‘I was nervous to use his fancy TV, and the white carpet was terrifying when it came to doing my makeup. He gave me onedrawer and one part of the walk-in wardrobe… I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘We keep ending up mentioning him.’

‘It’s hard not to,’ Ethan said quietly. ‘I hope we can find some things you like. You deserve your flat to feel like home.’

I paused by a writing desk that was very similar to the one I had been sat at all morning. I ran my hand over the ornate wood. ‘Wow.’

‘You wouldn’t have writer’s block if you were sat at that,’ Ethan said, watching my reaction.

‘It would fit perfectly by the window in the living room; I could look out at the river from it,’ I mused, picturing my flat back in London. It felt very far away right now but I wouldn’t be able to avoid going home forever. I glanced at the price. It wasn’t as bad as I had feared. ‘How would I get it home though?’

‘Let me sort that,’ Ethan said, walking over to talk to the shop owner in his fluent French. I watched him, touched he cared and wanted me to have this piece. It made me worry less about extending my trip here.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and sent a message to Carly.

Things feel weird between us, and I really don’t want that. I wrote three chapters this morning and now I’m shopping for things for my flat with Ethan. I know you’re worried but I’ll be okay. I am really enjoying being here.

Carly replied a couple of minutes later.

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