Page 33 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
‘This is beautiful,’ he said, looking around him at the apartment blocks that lined the boulevard – pale stone buildings topped by steep grey roofs. Rows of shuttered French windows glowed in the dark, throwing light onto the narrow balconies that ran along the building facades, and right at the top, five or six floors up, little garret rooms nestled in the rooftops. ‘I was too drunk to notice how lovely it is this morning. You’re bloody lucky, living here.’
‘I am,’ she said. ‘And here we are. My place.’
Chapter Ten
‘What sort of a lift do you call this?’ said Joel as they squeezed into the tiny elevator. ‘Good job I don’t suffer from claustrophobia.’
‘We call it anascenseur. I’m lucky to have one; a lot of apartments don’t.’
‘Five,’ he read out, as she pressed the button and the lift began to ascend. ‘Which at this speed gives me time to take advantage of this cosy space.’
‘Yes, it’s a very slow li–’
He silenced her with a kiss. There was no clashing of teeth or sharing of tongues. It was sweet and gentle, and she wanted it to last forever.
But all too soon the lift halted with its customary bone-rattlingthunk. It was a ramshackle thing. Chloe enjoyed the quirks of this old, quintessentially Parisian apartment block, but wished the lift was a little less quirky. She wondered what manner of ancient cable mechanism stopped it from plummeting to the ground. It was probably just as well she didn’t know.
She slid open the metal concertina gate and ushered Joel out.
As soon as Chloe opened the tall, old, midnight-blue door to her apartment, the cat jumped down off the sofa, stopping dead when he spotted Joel.
‘This is Patapouf. He takes a while to warm to people,’ she said, switching on the lights. ‘Come on in.’
‘Shoes off?’ said Joel, eyeing the pale rugs on the wooden floor.
‘Better had,’ said Chloe. ‘Everything here belongs to Madame Lol, my absent landlady.’
‘Madame Lol? Seriously?’
‘Yes, and she won’t be lol-ing if we get dried vomit on her carpets.’
They bent over, side by side, Chloe gingerly pulling the ends of her laces, avoiding the remaining patches of regurgitated food on her trainers.
‘I’ll buy you some new ones,’ he said, as they straightened. ‘Top of the range, whatever you want. I promise.’
And I will keep this pair forever. Maybe even uncleaned. Gross but true.
The apartment was messy, but it was stillcharmant. She loved this place. It had originally been two garrets; now there was one small bedroom and a living area with a kitchen. The most-compact-ever bathroom was hidden away in a corner. The roof sloped, and outside each room was a balcony with just enough space for plants, but not enough for a seat. She’d threaded strings of fairy lights in among her dwarf trees and pots of flowers, and after filling Patapouf’s bowl, she opened the French doors and switched on those little twinkling lights. The full moon was illuminating the grey rooftops, and Paris looked like a dream.
‘Wow,’ said Joel. ‘That’s your view. It’s amazing.’
‘I know.’ How had she not properly appreciated it before, all caught up in her broken-heartedness.
‘So many flowers. Very pretty,’ he said. They were crammed into jars and pots on every surface, and the smell when you walked through the door … ‘It’s like walking into the perfume department at Selfridges.’
‘Perk of the job.Perque,’ she added, in a French accent.
Then she remembered her manners, and his hunger. ‘Would you like something to eat? Or a cup of tea? I expect you’d like both?’
‘Both would be awesome, thanks. Can I use your bathroom first?’ He looked around him. ‘Where is it?’
‘Kind of tucked away,’ she said. ‘And–’
‘You’ll have to come with me, I know.’
A wee had been one thing, but …
‘Just a wee,’ he said, reading her mind. ‘For now.’ He pulled a face.
