Page 15 of Midnight in Paris

She smiled, trying to remind herself that this was the last time; that before this, there was a time when she was sure she’d never see him again. How, back then, she’d have given anything to spend a day or two with this infuriating, bewitching man.

‘Just don’t go making me fall in love with you again, Tom,’ she said quietly, shaking her head.

He smiled that slow, confident smile of his and she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Whatever she’d convinced herself of, where Tom was concerned, there would always be something there. That was why she was here. To cut it off. To say goodbye to him, to the past version of herself who loved him, and to step into her future.

7

THE FIRST SUMMER – 2011

‘Hang on, hang on,’ Libby said, sitting forward on the rather saggy sofa in their shared house. ‘Let me get this straight. You have decided, after four months and a romantic trip to Paris, that you are going to dump Tom Gardner?’

‘I guess I have,’ Sophie said, shrugging, taking a sip of her water.

‘Tom Gardner. The boy that pretty much every girl at Cambridge is lusting over? The boy whom you told me wasthebest sex you’d ever had?’

‘To be fair, he’s only my second, so…’

‘Still.’ Libby shook her head, incredulous. ‘Well, I did not see this coming.’

‘I know.’ Sophie gave a little half-smile. ‘I know, he’s great. Good-looking. Kind.’

‘So, you’re dumping him because…?’

‘It’s not really dumping. We’re only dating.’

‘Sounds like dumping to me.’

‘OK. Well,’ Sophie shifted, slightly annoyed. ‘I’m just not sure we fit, that’s all.’

‘In what way?’

She shrugged. ‘Just a feeling. He’s great. But I’m pretty sure he’s not that into me. Take Paris for example.’

‘What about it?’

‘You know. In the Louvre. He clearly didn’t want to come.’

‘So you’re dumping him because he doesn’t like fine art?’ Libby arched an eyebrow, but her tone was light, teasing.

Sophie laughed. ‘No, of course not!’

‘Because hedidgo with you, didn’t he? Even though he’s not a fan. That means something, surely.’

Sophie looked at her friend who seemed to be a great believer in love and fate and romance – provided she wasn’t the recipient of it herself. ‘Yeah, but he whined the whole time. I felt like his mother.’

‘Oh. Not a great turn-on.’

‘Exactly. Oh, Libby!’ Sophie flung herself back against the worn material of the decades-old sofa. ‘I don’t know. I just – we’re never going to maintain things, are we? Summer, then we’re off doing different things. And it’s Tom. You borrow him, remember? He’s not for keeps!’

Libby laughed. ‘Who told you that?’

‘Not sure. Some random idiot in a bar. It might even have been you!’

‘Oh, God. Don’t listen toher,’ Libby joked. ‘She’ll say anything.’

‘I’m going to miss you, you know,’ Sophie said quietly now. ‘Living with you. This…’

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