Page 10 of The Paris Chapter

‘Let’s just say romance hasn’t been a high priority the past couple of months,’ I said, then decided I was telling him too much. ‘Where are these romantic spots I need to visit then?’

Ethan shifted on his feet, still looking down at me in the chair. ‘I could take you to one now. If you want? If it will help?’

‘I was joking. Why would you know the romantic spots of Paris?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘That sounds like a challenge. Come on.’ Ethan started walking without waiting for a response.

He can’t be serious.

But Ethan was walking away, and he looked back, gesturing for me to follow. My curiosity was too piqued to resist so I jumped up, stuffed my notebook and pen back into my bag and hurried to catch up with him.

He started talking when I fell into step. ‘I lived in Paris for a year before I got the job at Bon Appétit in London. I worked at a small family-run restaurant here. So I know the city pretty well. And I know just the place to inspire a romance writer.’ He turned towards the nearest Metro station with purpose.

‘It must have been amazing to live here,’ I said, imagining that Paris must be inspirational for a chef. All the delicious food and great places to eat.

‘It was. I try to come back as often as I can but the restaurantin London keeps me too busy most of the time, which is why I jumped at the chance to do this course. I’m planning to go back to where I used to work for a meal once my friends return to the city.’

‘I’d love to see it,’ I said, without thinking.

Ethan glanced across at me.

‘Um, so, can you cook anything?’ I cringed at the question, but at least it changed the subject.

‘Probably. I love making pastries; it’s my speciality, I suppose. But I also like good comfort food like my mum used to make.’ I saw a flicker of sadness pass across his face. ‘And I make a mean croque monsieur.’

We went down the steps then to the Metro, where Ethan got me a card that I could use while I was here, and soon we were on a train to Montmartre. The train was busy so we didn’t talk much. My mind was very active though. I was confused how I’d ended up in Paris with Ethan.

I thought about the only two other times I had interacted with him before this trip. When Joe and I had been dating for a few weeks, I introduced him to Carly and Luke, and then I started asking about his friends. He hadn’t been very enthusiastic about me meeting them, saying he ‘didn’t want to share me with anyone’, but said that one Friday night, on our way out for a meal, we could pop by to a bar they liked to drink in. That was the first time I met Ethan, along with two other guys and two women. ‘I know, I know, I’ve been MIA,’ Joe had declared as we approached their table. ‘I haven’t been able to tear myself from this one’s side,’ he added, his arm around me, pulling me close. ‘Don’t blame Tessa though, it’s all my fault.’ I had instantly felt worried they had thought I’d been keeping him from them even though it had been Joe who had wanted to avoid them.

Before his friends could say anything, Joe had launched intothe story he’d just been telling me about his boss embezzling funds and the drama it had caused at his work. I looked at the group and the two women smiled, and the men gave me formal nods. Ethan met my eyes for a moment but then looked away. Joe didn’t properly introduce me to the group, and I felt awkward. He’d then decided we were in too much of a hurry to stay for a drink and, leaving, said we’d all hang out soon. I gave an awkward wave to his friends as he’d pulled me out of the bar, and as we left, I’d glanced back to see Ethan was watching us, and I wondered what he had been thinking.

The second time I’d seen Ethan was for Joe’s birthday. Joe had hired an area in a bar and it was packed with people. He had told me to just come for an hour as he would mostly be work networking, booking me a car there and back so I didn’t really have a choice. I asked for him to introduce me to his friends, but he’d only pointed out two. One was Ethan, and Joe told me, ‘Don’t be offended by him not wanting to meet you; he hardly likes anyone.’ The other one was called Michelle; he had gestured for her to come over to us, saying she had read one of my books.

‘Oh yes, I read it on the beach. My sister gave it to me as I’d finished the book I had bought. We have very different reading tastes,’ she had said, before she was called away by someone else.

‘Don’t be offended, baby,’ Joe said. ‘She reads literary books, you know.’

I had slunk away into the car waiting to take me home feeling crap about myself and, suffice to say, I hadn’t asked Joe to see his friends again. And when I tried to meet his work mates, it had resulted in us breaking up. So it was probably a good thing I hadn’t tried harder to get to know his friends.

‘We’re here.’ Ethan broke through my reminiscing and we gotoff the Metro and exited the station. Ethan led us into a small park, where we stood in front of a large tiled wall with writing all over it.

‘This isle mur des je t’aime,’ Ethan said quietly. He had a perfect French accent. ‘Or “The Wall of Love”.’

As I looked up at the blue titles made out of enamelled lava, Ethan explained it was created by two artists as a monument to love. The writing featured the words ‘I love you’ written in hundreds of languages.

‘I have vaguely heard of it,’ I said, gazing in awe at the white writing on top of the blue tiles. There were a few people around and I saw a couple taking a selfie with it behind them, leaning in to kiss. I looked away from them quickly to see Ethan was beside me. ‘I can see why you thought to bring me here,’ I said. ‘It’s beautiful. What are the red bits?’ I asked, pointing to the irregular splotches of red paint dotted around the words.

‘They are meant to represent pieces of a broken heart, and if you put them together, they would form a complete heart.’

‘Like a puzzle.’

‘Exactly. I think it’s a reminder that we sometimes lose the importance of love in the world.’

Okay, Paris, I get the message.

I looked up at the wall. ‘Can I tell you something?’ I knew Ethan had heard what I’d said to Carly about how I was struggling to write because of what had happened with Joe. ‘These past couple of months, I’ve wondered if I’d be able to write about love again. Because I realised so much of my writing was based on hope. Hope that true love is out there, that maybe one day I’d have it, but I don’t know. Hope left me for a bit. It’s here though.’ I gestured to the wall. ‘I can feel it here. And maybe that means it will come back for me. Does that sound really cheesy?’

Ethan smiled across at me. ‘That’s why I wanted to show you this wall. Love is always somewhere to be found.’

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