Page 38 of Midnight in Paris

Libby

Well, both. I have a lot of love to give to both of those things.

Sophie

Idiot *smiley face*

Libby

I’m offended! Seriously though, look after yourself, OK? That’s an order.

Sophie

Thanks Lib. I will.

Libby

I have to ask… is he there? Tom I mean. Like you said.

Sophie

Yes.

Libby

Oh, Soph. Look, I’m not going to judge you. I know how much you miss him. But just be careful, OK?

Sophie

I’m fine, honestly. I know what I’m doing. It’s OK. I know how to cross the road safely, look both ways.

Libby

Very funny. Well, look. Call me – day or night – if you need.

Sophie

Thanks.

Sophie lay for a moment, flicking through social media. Will hadn’t posted anything, which was far from surprising. Libby had posted one of the non-smiling selfies she’d favoured since discovering her newly etched crows’ feet and deciding her skin was smoother when she kept her expression neutral. Otherwise, nothing.

This wasn’t doing her any good, she decided, forcing herself to get up and move. Straightening the bed, she stood, checked her reflection in the mirror, grabbed her bag and took the shuddering lift down to the foyer. Tom would just have to catch up.

Montmartre was just as it had been all those years ago. Perhaps there was a little more graffiti outside the metro, a few shops boarded up, their windows whitened from the inside; maybe it was a bit busier. But essentially, it hadn’t changed. Probably in fifty, a hundred years’ time some other tourist would walk down these same streets and wonder the same thing. Perhaps even?—

‘Hey, no fair! Why didn’t you wait for me?’

The voice made her jump and she whirled around, almost knocking her bag into a passing woman who stepped back, alarmed, then continued on her way, muttering at the strange young lady spinning around in the street for no discernible reason. But it didn’t matter.

‘I wasn’t sure when you’d be back… so…’

They moved to the edge of the street, against the cool stone of a building, where they’d no longer be in anyone’s way.

‘Yes, but what I if I hadn’t found you?’

She was going to say something about his being needy, but stopped herself. She wasn’t sure how this was going to play out; wasn’t sure of the rules any more than he was. ‘Sorry,’ she said instead.

He was silent for a moment. ‘It’s OK. It’s not your fault I’m like this.’

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