Page 55 of All the Gossip from Paris
But poor Sophie, she had to face Patrice every day.
I don’t know how she does it.
He was busy feeling sorry for her, but Sophie clearly had other ideas. “Right. So no more talking about broken hearts, or shitty relationships while we are around food.” She held up a hand. “This kitchen is a sacred space, and only good things will be tolerated here.”
Sophie’s words pulled Liam back from the edge. He’d been spiraling. On the verge of sinking into a bad place.
He could have kissed her.
Actually that’s a great idea.
Pulling her into his arms, he held her close. When their lips met, it was in a long and hungry kiss. This could all end in a mess, but he didn’t care. He was going to take this time with Sophie and enjoy it.
He would feast on her joy. Drink in her laughter. And if at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve she called time on their relationship, then at least he’d leave France knowing he hadn’t wasted this opportunity.
A throat being loudly cleared shocked them from their embrace. As Liam drew back from the kiss, Sophie glanced toward the entrance to the kitchen. Camille and Ryan stood in the doorway.
So much for keeping this a secret. Two minutes into their Christmas holiday romance, and they’d already been discovered.
Heat burned her cheeks. She had a handful of lies ready to offer to her sister and brand-new brother-in-law. The sly look which the newlyweds exchanged between them told her they weren’t in the market for tall tales.
Liam to his credit said nothing. Like her, he seemed willing to wait for what their siblings had to say before speaking.
“We came for bread and cheese,” said Camille. Her sister could do the deadpan face like a master. She was giving nothing away. Her husband was equally bland with his expressions. They’d been married for all of three days, and they were already working in sync. Like the parts of a well-oiled machine.
A tinge of jealousy lit in Sophie’s heart. She longed for that kind of connection with a man.
“Yes, we did. And cold meats. I think there is some wild boar salami in the cool room,” added Ryan. A sly smirk had crept to the edges of his mouth.
They were giving little away. Had they already figured out that something might be going on between her and Liam?
“Yeah, there is some salami. I found a couple of large jars of leftover stuffed olives from the wedding too. You might want to take one of those as well,” said Sophie. The sooner Camille and Ryan were gone, the better. This was so embarrassing.
She and Liam stood silently staring at one another while the newlyweds foraged for treats in the cool room.
When they finally reappeared, Ryan was carrying a picnic basket. He was holding it with both hands. The haul from the cool room must have been a good one. Camille followed closely on his heels, a bottle of Cru Classe St-Estèphe in one hand, and a bottle of Badoit sparkling water in the other.
The loud hum of a motor filled the room. Out the window Sophie spied a silver Sikorsky executive helicopter coming in to land. François and Marina would soon be leaving for Switzerland. At least that was one spot of good timing for the day. Her parents wouldn’t be back until after the New Year.
That only leaves my sister and brother in law to deal with.
“We shall leave the two of you to get on with your… cooking,” said Camille, following her husband out the door.
The second they were gone, Liam opened his mouth, then stopped. From out in the walkway came the sound of giggling. “Oh my god! What if we’d been five minutes later?!” exclaimed Camille.
Ryan’s deep voice reached her ears. “I don’t think they would have done it in the kitchen. But yeah, what the?”
The sound of footsteps and voices slowly faded.
“You don’t think they will run and tell your parents, do you?” said Liam.
Sophie shook her head. If there was one thing she knew for certain it was that Camille would take what she’d seen today to the grave. “No. Cami doesn’t confide in our parents. If she is shocked or angry about us, she will deal with it in private. She won’t run out to the chopper to tell them.”
“Not that there is an us. I mean we are keeping this casual, aren’t we? No expectations,” replied Liam.
She’d reacted before she could stop herself. Those words cut deep. Delivering the same pain as rejection had always done.
He was right. They both lived in different countries. Lived two very different lives. This thing was likely no more than a festive fling. Something that would die a natural death after New Years Eve. No one was going into this imagining that they would get hurt.
