Page 24 of Midnight in Paris

Will

Miss you.

Sophie

Miss you too.

Looking up, she saw Tom watching her and tried to smile. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

‘It’s OK. I love Will!’ he said. ‘Say hi to him from me.’

‘Very funny.’

‘I take it he doesn’t know?’

She stiffened. ‘Not everything. I just don’t want him to worry.’

‘About me?’

‘Aboutme. I tried… I wanted to explain that I need to see you. Paris. Talk to you about things. Say goodbye properly – and this is what it is, Tom. But I couldn’t… saying it sounded so…’ She looked down, then back up at him. ‘I didn’t lie to him,’ she said. ‘I just didn’t tell him everything.’

‘Talk about what things?’ It was as if Tom had only paid attention to the bit that involved him. Which was, actually, typical.

Suddenly animated, she stood up. ‘Let’s get out,’ she said. ‘I can’t stand it in this tiny room. Let’s go for a walk, eh?’

She grabbed a jacket, her bag, and made her way down in the lift to the foyer. There were a few people milling about, and the woman on reception smiled as she passed. Then she was outside, in a street still flooded with bright sunshine. She hadn’t waited for Tom, but a moment later there he was, emerging from the hotel reception and jogging over to her.

‘Slow down!’ he said, bending over, hands on knees, as if exhausted from hurrying.

‘Yeah. Sorry about that. Claustrophobia.’

‘Not Tom-ophobia?’

She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. ‘Maybe a little.’

They smiled at each other, then fell into step together. Sophie felt the tension leave her body as she inhaled the fresh air and let the Paris scenery transport her. They didn’t have long and while she knew nothing could be perfect, she wanted this to be as close to it as possible.

Her phone rang again with a call from Sam but she sent it to voicemail. She’d talk to her later.

‘Where’re we off to, anyway?’ he said moments later, as they turned the corner and found themselves caught up in the flowof pedestrians, some smart, some dressed-down, some suited, some in summer holiday mode.

‘I thought I might just get a drink.’ She looked at him. ‘Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting.’

He gave a short nod. ‘Doesn’t matter. But let’s not go to a bar, eh. Get something from one of the shops. Maybe grab a bench?’

‘What, a whisky bottle in a brown paper bag?’ she teased.

‘It’s a look,’ he said. ‘But maybe something a little more sophisticated.’

‘Bottle of champers?’

‘Maybe a small one,’ he grinned.

‘And you don’t mind…?’

‘I can’t have you dying of dehydration just because I don’t touch the stuff any more,’ he said, smiling. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll just try to remember what it tastes like.’

Tom had tried to give up drinking a few times over the years, never successfully. Each time she’d tried to join him, finding it a little easier than he did – the drive to drink less compelling. Perhaps it was cruel to drink in front of him now. But she needed something to help her relax, to get through this time. And she was pretty sure he understood.

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