Page 91 of All the Gossip from Paris
She’d walked these grounds almost every day of her life. Knew the paths and laneways like the back of her hand. This was a comfortable existence. One she’d forced herself to make peace with, to accept that such privilege came at a cost. But she wasn’t prepared to pay that heavy price anymore.
The world was calling. Sophie Royal was ready to answer.
In the living room of Camille’s elegant apartment in the 6th arrondissement, Liam paced back and forth across the floor. Every so often he’d stop and check his messages. The airline hadn’t yet found him a seat on a flight to the US.
Sophie had said she needed a couple of hours to get things done. The easy way out would be to go to the airport and wait. Send her a text that he wished her well, but that he’d had to leave.
I can’t do that.
He’d sworn a pinky promise to wait for her arrival. Those things were sacred. He would wait and then listen to whatever she had to say. Worst case she didn’t want him. If they made peace with their farewell, that would be good for everyone.
“It will make life a lot easier for Ryan and Camille when the baby arrives,” he consoled himself. Maintaining a cordial relationship between the families was important.
At the sound of a key pad being activated, Liam stopping his pacing. As Camille stepped through the door, he forced a smile to his lips.
“Oh, hello. We weren’t expecting to see you,” she said.
Ryan who was loaded up with shopping bags followed his wife into the apartment. “Hey. I thought you were staying out at the chateau.”
He dumped the bags in the nearest empty corner, and came over to where Liam stood.
Ryan had known Liam was going to try and talk to Sophie. He may as well come out and say it plain. “I think Sophie and Patrice have got back together. François said as much in that interview he gave to French Vogue. And you know how it goes, three’s a crowd. If its ok with you guys, I’ll stay here for a little bit then head out to the airport. I’m on standby for a flight to New York tonight.”
“Oh no,” sighed Camille. Liam could have hugged her for the sad look on her face. She’d clearly been Team Liam.
“Sophie called a little while ago; she is on her way here. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her before I left. I’m guessing she wants to make sure we don’t part on bad terms,” he explained.
Camille came to stand alongside her husband. Ryan slipped his arm about his wife’s waist, as best he could.
“I read Papa’s interview, and I can’t believe my sister would really go back to Patrice. That man has hurt her so many times in the past. If she has given in to pressure, get ready for a lot of shouting once she gets here. You’ll learn some French words that they don’t use in those language apps.”
Ryan gave her a worried look. “I thought it was bad enough that you had learned so many cuss words in English. I dread to think what you can say in your native tongue.”
She patted him on the arm. “If I get into it with Sophie, you might want to cover your ears.”
It took longer than she’d hoped to get things sorted. It didn’t help that she was in a terrible panic. The clock was ticking down to two o’clock.
Her mother and various other family members, along with Patrice, were still in the dining room. On the stroke of two, lunch would be over. She had to be out of here and on her way to Paris well before then.
Sophie wasn’t a coward. She was just saving all her bravery for when she caught up with Liam. But before she left, she had one last thing she had to do.
From under her bed, she retrieved the box which contained the diamond bracelet Patrice had given to her at Christmas. She put it in an envelope, along with a note which read. ‘I cannot keep this gift. I hope you understand. Sophie.’
It might not mean all that much to her ex, but it would help ease her conscious. She left the envelope on the bed, along with another note asking her mother to hand the package to Patrice.
Suitcases packed, Sophie lugged them down the back stairs. Her arms and legs protested the whole way.
At the underground parking garage, she pulled her car out of its space, then loaded her cases into the back. Her heart was racing as she climbed into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine.
“Ok, quick check. Passport. Credit cards. Cash. ESTA applied for,” she muttered. Worst case, if her travel authorization was delayed, she’d hide out in Paris until it came through.
She’d just put the car into reverse when a face appeared at the driver’s side window. Sophie screamed. “Fuck! Éliott, what are you doing?”
He opened the door, then glanced at her suitcases.
“Are you running away from home?”
Guilty as charged.
