Chapter 19

“Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?” I glanced between them and they peered back at me. Lou’s eyes narrowed a little, but I could handle Mama Lou. It was coming up on midnight and we were due on the coach at 8:00am. I needed to sleep, but I knew if I didn’t get the whole “Jean-Luc” situation out of my head, I’d end up staring at the ceiling until the wee hours.

“Amsterdam!” I said a little too loudly for the small room.

Jaelee went back to her position on Lou’s bed. “What about it?” she said, stifling a yawn.

“What are you looking forward to?” I donned an expression of fake enthusiasm, like a nursery teacher trying to get small children excited about something mundane.

Lou answered, “Well, I’m actually going to see my family.”

“Oh, cool,” drawled Dani.

The fake enthusiasm vanished. “I didn’t know you had family in the Netherlands.” Why hadn’t she told me that? Or maybe she had but I’d been too busy obsessing about my trainwreck of a love life.

“Oh, I thought I’d mentioned it. Hang on, maybe I didn’t. Well, anyway, we’re Dutch on my dad’s side and his first cousin lives in Rotterdam. I’m staying with her and her husband. Oh, and her kids are our age, so that’ll be cool.”

“Wait, so you’re staying with them?” asked Jaelee. “Are you leaving the tour early?”

Great questions, Jaelee. How had my bus bestie failed to reveal such important information?

“No, I’ll finish out the trip, but when you go back to London on Friday, Dad’s cousin, Mila, is picking me up from the hotel. I fly straight to Vancouver from Amsterdam on Monday.”

“That’s awesome,” said Dani. Her excitement about Lou’s plans was annoying me senseless.

“So, we have to say goodbye on Friday morning?” I asked, a slight edge in my voice. A whole day less with Lou. I was deflated. I almost wanted to go back to talking about Jean-Luc. Almost.

“Yeah, but we still have two more days together.” She smiled brightly at me, which made me feel even worse. She had something to look forward to over the weekend. And then my thoughts flew to Jackson and the pending divorce and the heinous mess she had waiting for her back home in Vancouver. I was being a cow—again. To Lou, whom I loved.

On impulse, I got up and gave her a hug. It was a little awkward, because she was sitting and I was standing, but when you feel a wave of love for someone, you should act on it.

“Okay, that’s our cue,” said Jae.

“You don’t have to go,” I said. Yes, I needed sleep, but now I had something else to fret over. I’d be staring at the ceiling for hours.

“I’m beat,” Jae replied. She stood and stretched her clasped hands behind her, like someone who did yoga all the time, or a ballerina. “I’m taking this with me,” she said picking up her glass.

“Right behind you,” said Dani, even though she looked like she wasn’t going anywhere.

Jae left our room and Dani sipped her wine. “Uh, Dan? Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Mm-hm.” She drank some more wine and pulled at a thread hanging off the bottom of her cigarette pants.

I shared a look with Lou and she was clearly as baffled as I was. “Is it Jason?” Lou posed the question lightly, then took a sip of wine. I saw her close her eyes for a second as she savoured it.

“What? Oh, no. That’s old news. He hooked up with that girl, Joanne. You know, the one from New Zealand?”

“How did I miss that?”

“You’ve been busy,” said Lou. I wasn’t sure if that was a dig or not.

“But when?” I asked.

“At the last stop,” said Dani matter-of-factly. “Didn’t you see them at the party last night?” I hadn’t, no. My “good friend” karma was going into deficit, and fast.

“And you’re okay with it?” Lou sounded dubious. I was dubious. They’d been so cute together, and how on earth did Jason have time for two romances on such a short tour?

Dani waved it away, as though shooing a fly. “No,” she said with a laugh. “I really don’t care. He wanted to sleep with me and I was like, meh. I mean, he’s cute, and I liked him enough to kiss him, but how would we even do that? It’s not like we get private rooms.” She’d mentioned that before and I had to agree. “Anyway, he was totally cool about it and then he moved onto Joanne.”

“Huh.” Lou and I said it at the same time. I caught her eye and we shared a smile.

Dani stared at the carpet. “Dani, spill,” I said. “It’s not Jason, so what is it?” Mama Lou was not the only one who could dish up tough love.

She sighed. “I don’t want to bug you guys. It’s nothing, really.”

“You’re literally sitting on our floor sighing. Out with it.”

She looked up at me with those big grey eyes with the precisely drawn eyeliner flicks. Then she looked at Lou, who nodded encouragingly. “It’s Nathalie, my best friend.” I knew her best friend was Nathalie, because I surrogate-hated Nathalie for what she’d done to Dani.

“And?” Even Lou was getting impatient.

Dani’s bottom lip starting quivering. She bit it and took a breath. “There are wedding photos on Facebook.”

“Oh. Well, that sucks,” I said, “Sorry, Dani.”

She shook her head. “That’s not why I’m upset. Well, yeah, I mean the photos are upsetting, but the worst part is that it wasn’t only the two of them—at the wedding.”

“Wait, but you said she was eloping? That still means the same thing, right? Going somewhere to get married, just the two of you?” Lou and I telepathically communicated over Dani’s head; I wasn’t the only one who was confused.

“That’s what she told me.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “But no. Her mom and dad were there. Her brother and his girlfriend were there, and they only just started going out! And there were two other couples there. People I don’t know, and I know all her friends and all her family, so I’m not sure why Nathalie was completely fine with strangers being at her wedding, but she didn’t want me there.”

Her lip had stopped quivering. She was no longer upset—she was furious—and I couldn’t blame her.

“And the worst part is, I’m going to have to see her and say congratulations and all the other things you’re supposed to say, like, ‘Oh, how was it?’ and smile and suck it up! It’s fucking bullshit. I bet she doesn’t even know the photos are on there, because she didn’t even post them. Someone else did, then tagged her. So, not only do I have to be all nice about her eloping, which is a super shitty thing to do to your best friend since high school, I’m going to have to ask why there were random people at her fucking wedding when I wasn’t allowed to go.”

“Sorry, Dan,” I said again, putting my hand on her shoulder in solidarity. There was no moral ambiguity in the situation. Bitchface Nathalie was lucky we’d never meet, because I would berate her until she cried.

“Dani, it totally sucks that she did this to you. You don’t deserve that,” said Mama Lou, channelling Counsellor Lou. “We love you. You have us, okay?” Dani chewed on the inside of her mouth.

“Dani?” She looked at Lou. “I know we don’t live in the same cities or anything, but we’re your friends now. And that’s a promise. You need me—us …” She looked at me for confirmation and I squeezed Dani’s shoulder. “… We’re here for you. Okay?”

“Okay.” She’d lost a bit of her steam.

“And Jaelee too,” added Lou.

“Oh.” Dani seemed uncomfortable.

“Hey, are things all right between you and Jae?” I asked.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just, I felt kinda dumb telling her about all this. It’s like, so minor and—”

“No way. This is not minor. I swear, if my sister pulled something like this, I would have her guts for garters.”

Dani’s eyed widened and she started laughing. “What expression is that?” she asked through her laugh.

“You haven’t heard that one?”

“No.” Still laughing.

“Well, I think it’s Australian. Could be English. Anyway, it means—”

“Oh, no, I get what it means. I am totally stealing it.” She started to get up. “Oh, crap, my foot’s gone to sleep.” She sat down heavily on the bed next to me, spilling some of her wine on the carpet. She handed the glass to me and started massaging her right foot. I put her glass on the bedside table.

“I’m going to have to go to bed too.” She shook her foot and tested standing on it. She would have to limp, but she was only going next door. She leant down and gave me a hug. “Thank you.” Then Lou. “You too. I’m glad I could talk about it.”

“Sure,” said Lou patting her on the back like she was a colicky baby.

“Okay.” She straightened up and hobbled to the door. “See you in the morning.”

“Night.”

“Goodnight.”

When the door closed and she was out of earshot, Lou turned to me and said, “I hope I never meet that Nathalie girl. I don’t think I could stop myself from smacking her one.” Mama Lou was one formidable chick.

***

I woke with a surprisingly clear head around seven, and the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Dani’s unfinished wine. The second was the letter. Lou was still sleeping when I propped myself up against the bedhead and picked up the letter. Without waking her, I took it out and unfolded it. I took my time, reading between the lines like Jean-Luc, a boy with a crush, would have done.

Only it wasn’t a crush. He had loved me.

And I had loved him. It was there on the page.

Cosy in my hotel bed, I was awash with fondness for nineteen-year-old Cat—Catey. She was funny and self-deprecating, hopeful and loving. She wasn’t yet broken. I refolded the letter and put it back in the envelope, then got out of bed and tucked it safely into my messenger bag.

As we drove out of the charming German burg an hour later, I was a little regretful that my entire experience of Germany had boiled down to lots of wine and a decent bed. And yes, the landscape was nice, but after Switzerland, I wondered if any other scenery could ever elicit more than a shoulder shrug, perhaps another way I was ruined for life.

Germany

It was a straight shot between Koblenz and Amsterdam, and a relatively short drive, compared to others we’d had. And at least Amsterdam gave me something to look forward to.

I’d seen enough photos to know it would be picturesque and I knew it had incredible galleries. I really wanted to go to the Van Gogh museum. My sister was obsessed with him, especially Sunflowers, and her obsession had rubbed off on me a bit. It would be nice to go, so I could tell her about it. Apparently, they had built a whole new wing since she’d last been.

And, of course, the further we travelled north-west, the more distance there was between me and Jean-Luc.

***

Hours later, after we’d crossed another border and the landscape flattened, I poked around in my heart to see if I still felt anything for Scott, the ghost of boyfriend past.

After conjuring his face, or at least a blurry facsimile, after dipping into a catalogue of Kodak moments and epic fights, and dredging through the minutiae of our five-year relationship, I realised I felt nothing. Finally.

He’d been an insecure kid when we’d had that massive fight about Jean-Luc. How could I be angry at him? He was doing what he thought he should to show how much he loved me, that I belonged to him.

What we think love is when we’re young, I mused.

It could be sweet and honest and real, or completely screwed up and possessive, like with Scott. Possession wasn’t love. And making one person the centre of your entire world, forcing them to leave everyone else behind and be everything to you, that wasn’t love either.

For years, I thought I had loved Scott and that he had loved me, but in that moment, I knew I’d been wrong. Scott and I had been two drowning people clinging to each other. It was not love.

Love lifted you up. Love made you hopeful of the future, and brave enough to face whatever life threw at you. It made you laugh and feel and want and be—be yourself. I had a lot of love in my life—Sarah, my parents, my new friends, Mich. I wasn’t afraid of those relationships, of being vulnerable, of being myself. I’d jumped right in with the girls. In less than two weeks they’d seen me at my worst many times over. And it was fine. I loved them and they loved me.

So why was I walking away from something with Jean-Luc? What the hell was wrong with me? And then it hit me.

I was walking away because I was a stupid bloody idiot.

“Lou.” She had nodded off and I shook her awake.

She woke with a start. “Mmm. What, sorry.” She blinked a few times. “What’s up?”

“I have to go to Paris.”

“I’m not following, sorry.”

“I … I’m stupid and I need to go to Paris.”

She shook her head, like someone in a cartoon would. “Okay. You are not stupid—”

“Don’t counsel me right now. I have been inordinately stupid. I mean, Lou, seriously, Jean-Luc. Did you see him?”

She laughed. “Yeah, I saw him. He’s, uh, very, uh …”

“Exactly, and him being super hot is the worst thing about him. I mean, he’s kind and he’s thoughtful, and he’s so smart, Lou—even when we were kids—and he’s …” Tears prickled my eyes.

“He’s such a good man, and I am such a stupid idiot.” The tears turned to sobs and Lou patted my knee, a concerned look on her face. “I need to go to Paris,” I managed to say through the tears. “I have to tell him.”

“Okay, okay, just shush.” I sniffed loudly and fished in my bag for a tissue. Lou tapped on the seat in front of her and Dani poked her face between the two seats.

“Hey, what’s up?” She took headphones out of her ears.

“Is Jaelee awake?” asked Lou.

“She’s sleeping.”

“Wake her, then come back here.”

I was trying to get my sobs under control and failing miserably. I am not usually much of a crier—I was unpractised, which may have been why I’d gone from zero to sixty in three-point-two seconds.

It only took a couple of moments before Dani and Jaelee were crouched down in the aisle next to Lou. “Cat, are you okay?” Dani’s concern set me off again. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Lou adopted her calm, soothing tone. “Cat has realised that she needs to go to Paris.”

“For Jean-Luc?” Even through my tears I thought it was a dumb question.

“Of course for him,” said Jae, rolling her eyes.

Dani did her delighted little clap and grinned at me, then frowned when she saw my expression.

“So, why the tears?” asked Dani.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be happy?” added Jae.

I nodded. “Yes, but I am so stupid. How could I have been so stupid all these years?” I hiccupped a little and Lou tipped me gently forward and started rubbing my back, all while cooing that I wasn’t stupid. It didn’t help.

“Okay, so what?” said Jae. “We’ve all done it—all of us have done stupid things when it comes to love. I mean, look at me. At least you know he wants you. He’s not with anyone else. He wants you. Okay?”

I nodded, then snuffled up some snot. Dani’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Sorry.” I wiped my nose roughly with a sodden wad of tissue.

Right as I was starting to calm down and breathe normally, a hideous thought popped in my head. I looked at my friends, stricken. “But what if I completely cocked it up? What if I hurt him too much—again—and he doesn’t want me anymore?” The sobs started again.

Dani looked on helpless. Lou intensified the back rubbing and I had to shrug her off. Jaelee spoke, her firm voice cutting through my mini meltdown. “Stop that.” I took a sharp intake of breath. “Stop with the wallowing. You do not want to show up in Paris all tear-stained and puffy.”

Those were the magic words. The sobs stopped, and I stared at her wide-eyed, waiting for the next instruction. This must have been what it felt like for toddlers after the trance of a tantrum.

Jae stood up. “Can’t crouch down anymore. Right, so it’s Friday. You have to be back at work on Monday, I assume?” I nodded. Lou handed me some fresh tissues and I wiped tears and snot from my face, all while transfixed on Jaelee in “fix-it” mode. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Dani and I will look for flights to get you from Amsterdam to Paris. Give me your credit card.”

I rummaged in my bag, then handed it to her. “When we get to the hotel in Amsterdam, you’ll go tell Georgina that you’re leaving the tour, then fix yourself up. You are a hot mess right now.” I wasn’t even offended. “Then we’ll get you to the airport—Uber or a train or something. Okay?”

I nodded, numb, and gave the details over to my friends. All I had to focus on was getting a grip and working out what I wanted to say to Jean-Luc when I saw him. I figured that, “Hey, you know all the stuff I said about love? I was wrong. I think I love you. Let’s get married and have lots of babies,” wouldn’t be quite right.

***

We were due to get into Amsterdam around noon and the flight Dani and Jaelee found on Air France flew out at four. It was going to be a tight turnaround, but by the time we arrived at the hotel, the plan was etched in exquisite detail and we were all systems go.

We got our room assignment—dormitory-style, one room for the four of us and a bathroom down the hall. As soon as we unlocked the door, I was sent to take a shower and conduct a quick but thorough upkeep of my lady parts. By the time I got back to the room, someone had been through my luggage and had laid out one of my unworn dresses, and the only matching set of bra and knickers I’d packed. Thank goodness they were clean.

“Who—?”

“Who do you think?” Jaelee rolled her eyes at me. “Unless you want to borrow something of mine?”

I looked at the tastefully low-cut dress, blue with bell-shaped sleeves, a nipped-in waist, and embroidered flowers on the hem. It was one of my favourite dresses—I’d been saving it for the final night of the tour—and it was perfect. I smiled. “No, I love it.” I felt a little like Cinderella getting ready for the ball when I stepped into the dress and Lou zipped it up.

Jaelee brought out her curling wand and gave me some structured curls rather than my usual beachy waves, and Dani offered to do her signature eyeliner on me with its precise little flicks. I added some blush, some mascara and cherry-red sheer lip gloss—even though it would be hours until I saw Jean-Luc and I’d have to reapply it about fifty times.

I stood in front of my girl posse and held out my arms, so they could admire me. “Well?”

Dani clapped and grinned, Lou looked like a proud mother, and Jae said, “Much better than you looked an hour ago.” I took that as the highest compliment.

I looked at my watch. “What time did you book the Uber for, Dan?” She’d used the app on my phone. I didn’t want anyone else to foot the bill for my grand romantic gesture.

“Two o’clock.”

“All right, I need to go find Georgina. Oh, and pack all this up.”

“I’ll do that,” said Lou, as she gathered up my things.

“Oh, Lou, thank you.” I will not cry. I will not cry. I will see Lou again.

I was rooted to the spot, looking at my three friends. I would miss out on spending the next couple of days with them and it sucked.

“Go!” Jaelee shooed me out the door.

I climbed six flights of stairs to the fourth floor of the hotel where the Ventureseek crew had the penthouse apartment. When I knocked on the door, I waited for what felt like a long time. No answer. Hmm. I knocked again, louder this time, and when the door opened my mouth fell open.

Tom. With no shirt on.

“Oh, hey. Uh, can I do something for you?”

“Yes, actually, I just wanted a quick word with Georgina—if she’s here.”

He scratched his belly and I looked away. I wanted to think of Tom as the capable, clean-cut guy who drove us around Europe, not this sloppily attractive guy who was obviously having the rest of the day off.

“Uh, yeah. Hang tight, I’ll get her.” I waited in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on the crew’s private space. I couldn’t imagine having to be “on” twenty-four-seven, always polished and professional. It was hard enough having to do that as a teacher eight hours a day, five days a week.

Georgina emerged from what I assumed was a bedroom, and Tom gave me a salute. I lifted a hand in response.

“Hi, Catherine,” she said, her voice as weary as she looked.

“Hi!” Dial it down a bit, Cat. “Um, I just wanted to let you know I’ve had a change of plans, and I’m actually flying to Paris this afternoon.” She stared at me blankly, then blinked. “I’m leaving the tour.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and, to my horror, started to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said several times, and I got a glimpse of how I must have looked to my friends that morning. I cringed inwardly. Outwardly, I patted her on the arm and did what Lou would have done. I made shushing noises and said, “There, there.” Eventually, she got a hold of herself.

“Georgina, what’s going on?” I seriously doubted she’d miss me so much as to induce tears.

I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she was deciding whether to confide in me, but I was genuinely concerned. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” I asked. She nodded numbly, then turned and led the way through the penthouse. It was quite nice compared to the rest of the tour accommodation. She opened the door I’d seen her come out of and I followed her inside.

She sat down on the bed and I stayed standing. “What’s going on?”

“This is my first tour.”

“What? Really?” She nodded again. “But it’s October. Doesn’t your season start in April or something?”

“March, actually, but right after the training trip, my dad got really sick.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” A quick nod acknowledged my sympathy.

“Anyway, I flew back home to Perth so I could be with him, and I only just made it. He died a couple of days later. It was all so quick, you know?” I didn’t, but I nodded. “And Mum was just bereft. I had to stay, at least for a little while, to help her get things sorted out, you know, with the house and all Dad’s things. And it’s just me. I’m an only child.” Oh, you poor woman.

“Ventureseek was great about it. They said I could defer for a year, but I wanted to come back. Mum seemed a bit better and my auntie said she’d be around for her. So, I took this tour.”

“And you’ve done a great job.”

She looked up from her hands. Her look said, “Don’t bullshit me.”

“You have. If you hadn’t told me this was your first tour, I would never have known. No one else knows.” She still looked dubious. “Really. It’s a small coach. News travels fast. I would have heard something.” Her face softened a little.

“I feel like I keep screwing things up and that no one likes me.”

“We like you,” I lied. Blatantly. To her face.

“Really?”

“Yes. You and Tom have gone out of your way for us, and you know, my sister used to be a tour manager and she’d come back from tours shattered.” Maybe it was better not to harp on that in a pep talk. I changed tack. “Anyway, what I mean is, it’s a hard job, but you are doing great.”

I hoped I’d convinced her. I’d given more than my share of pep talks in my eleven years as a teacher, but she wasn’t a teenaged girl who didn’t know what course to do at uni. A weak smile alighted on her face, and I was relieved.

“Thank you. It’s just been so much more than I ever expected, you know?”

“For sure.” Another lie, but I could imagine.

“And I am shattered. And this is one of the shortest tours. What’s gonna happen when they give me a longer one? If they do?”

“What do you mean, ‘if’?”

“Well, I need to get good feedback, or they’ll make me defer until next season.”

“Oh, right, of course. Look, I’m sure it will be fine. Should I be filling in a form or something?”

“Oh, yes, right, you’re leaving today.” She ferreted about in her day pack, pulled out a stack of printed sheets and handed me one.

“Great. I’ll fill it in and give it to Lou to give to you. Is there anything else I need to do, officially, to leave the tour, I mean?”

“No. All good.”

“Georgina, look, I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t doing a good job.”

“Oh, it wasn’t you—”

“Well, we both know that’s a lie. Maybe not just me, but I am sorry.” I reached over and gave her a hug. “And I’m really sorry about your dad.” I pulled away. “Bollocks,” I said, thinking of the time. “I really need to go.”

She smiled through her tears. “Is it the guy from Rome?”

“What? Oh. Yes, actually, it is.”

“Good. Good for you.” She added a nod to her smile.

I left her in her room and crossed back through the living room. “Bye, Tom,” I called over my shoulder. I didn’t check to see if he’d heard me. I needed to get downstairs, complete the form and fill in the girls.

“We like Georgina again,” I said, a little out of breath from running down the stairs.

“Explain,” said Jaelee from her bed, where she was filing a nail.

I did—and quickly, because my Uber was on its way. I scribbled my name onto the form and ticked “excellent” all the way down, then signed the back. I gave it to Lou for safe keeping. I’d been an utter cow to Georgina, and the poor girl had been through the worst thing imaginable. I hoped that excellent reviews from everyone on the coach would make up for it, and I left Dani in charge of making that happen.

Ten minutes later, I was saying a premature and heart-wrenching goodbye to my posse. I stood on my tiptoes to hug Craig. “Keep me posted about school.” I’d keep an eye on him via Facebook and if—when—I visited Lou in Vancouver, I could pop down to Oregon. They weren’t that far apart.

“Bye, Dani. Thanks for everything, especially for your help today.”

“No problem. I’m totally living vicariously through you, I hope you know.” She was the third person to tell me that in less than a week.

I smiled, then grabbed her hand. “Hey, pip me if you want to talk about the whole wedding thing.”

She pressed her lips together. “Sure.”

“Jae, you gorgeous woman.” I hugged my height twin.

“Great meeting you,” she said.

I pulled back and we regarded each other. “You too.”

“Come to Miami anytime. Hey, you should come for New Year’s.” She raised her eyebrows and her eyes lit up.

“We’re coming back to that—soon,” I said. “I’ll email you.”

“Holding you to it.”

I had saved Lou for last, because our goodbye was the hardest. She wrapped me up in the last Mama Lou hug I’d have in a while. “Love you,” she said.

“Love you too, bus bestie.”

She squeezed me tighter. When we stepped back from the hug, we both had tears in our eyes. “Don’t you ruin that eyeliner,” said Dani. Lou and I smiled.

“I’ll call you next week. I want to know how everything goes with Jackson.” She nodded.

“Fly safe,” she said.

“I will.”

My car pulled up and the driver got out. He pointed to my case and I nodded. When I turned back to my friends, Lou and Dani had their arms around each other, and I saw Jae wipe an uncharacteristic tear from her cheek.

Bollocks. Do not cry, your eyeliner is perfect.

Of course, the real reason I didn’t want to cry was that it would be excruciatingly hard to stop. These were my friends, my dear friends, and I was going to miss having them with me twenty-four-seven.

I put my hand to my lips, blew them all a kiss, and got in the back seat of the car. I lowered the window as we drove away and called, “Bye. I love you!” then nestled against the leather seat.

“Water, miss?” asked my driver.

“Yes, please.” I blinked away the tears, eyeliner still intact.

The second hardest part of the day was done.

***

My time in Amsterdam amounted to only four hours, but what I’d seen made me want to go back someday—the bustling streets filled with bicycles, the tall, narrow terraced houses, the canals and bridges. It was beautiful, and I promised myself to return.

As we left the inner city, I took a sip of water, then sent couple of texts.

To Jane:

Slight change of plans. Won’t be back til Sunday. See you then. Cat

To Sarah:

Sorry about the call yesterday. I’m a cow. On my way to Paris to see Jean-Luc! I’ll FaceTime when I get back to London on Sunday—sooner if he sends me away. Love you. Cx

ps I hope he doesn’t send me away. :(

The flight from Schiphol to Charles de Gaulle was uneventful—from a travel perspective, anyway. Everything went smoothly at check-in and security, there were no delays, and I had an empty seat next to me for the flight—we didn’t even have any turbulence.

Unless you count the turbulence in my stomach.

I have a nervous stomach, always have. It’s often my canary in the coalmine, so to speak, and sometimes it asserts itself at the least opportune times. On my way to see Jean-Luc, it had gone into hyperdrive. In a one-hour-fifteen-minute flight, I used the toilet three times.

In the taxi from the airport, I fidgeted with the strap of my messenger bag, my nervous energy escaping my belly and moving into my extremities.

What was I going to say?

I had played the scene over and over again in my head. Jean-Luc’s face splitting into a smile. Him slamming the door in my face. Him dropping to his knees and begging me to never leave him again (probably the least plausible). Him not being home (probably the most plausible). I realised I wouldn’t know what to say until I saw him, until I saw his face, his reaction.

I hoped he liked surprises more than I did.

The taxi turned into a narrow, deeply shadowed street, then pulled to a stop a few doors along and double-parked. “C’est l’adresse, madame. Ici.” The driver pointed to a tall dark-green door.

“Merci.” I handed him forty euros and waved away the change. He gave a curt nod and got out of the car to retrieve my case from the boot. I took a deep, steadying breath and stepped out. The driver put my case on the pavement and left me standing in front of the door.

Jean-Luc’s door. All right, Parsons. Do not cock this up—again.

There were two buzzers and no security camera. The top buzzer said, “Caron” and I pressed it. A sharp, flat sound emitted. There was a long moment of silence, while my heart hammered away in my chest. “Oui?”

I gulped, then found my voice. “Jean-Luc. It’s me. It’s Cat. Uh, Catherine.” I could barely catch my breath, and I waited for what seemed like a millennium for his reply.

“Catherine? Uh, come to the top of the stairs.”

The staticky sound ceased, and I heard the click of the door. I pushed on it and lifted my case over the threshold into a small and chilly foyer. No elevator, just a steep set of stairs on the left wall. I eyed my case, then the stairs. It could stay down there for now. Jean-Luc could come and get it. Or, maybe I’d be loading it back into a taxi in a few minutes.

I started up the stairs and, at the first landing, passed the door to the other apartment. The second set of stairs was even steeper, and I had to hold the railing. As I was about to step onto the small landing, Jean-Luc’s door opened.

He stood in the doorway, wearing a grey T-shirt and jeans, barefoot and with at least a two-day beard. He wasn’t grinning, but he wasn’t frowning. I, however, was rooted to the spot two steps from the top of the staircase. He stepped aside and tilted his head, an invitation to come in.

I tentatively walked into the apartment and took in as many details as I could. It was just as I had imagined it. It was so Jean-Luc.

Blonde-wood floors; floor-to-ceiling shelves along one wall, brimming with haphazardly stacked books and magazines; two linen couches, the kind that beckon you to sprawl on them, faced each other; a low coffee table sat between the couches, also covered with books and magazines; and a wooden staircase led to the second floor of the apartment, more books stacked along the edge of each step. At the back of the room was a long kitchen bench with two bar stools at one end, their backs to the room, and against the rear wall of the apartment were the fridge and stove, either side of a large window.

It was a beautiful space, welcoming. But was he?

I turned to Jean-Luc, who was watching me look around. “It’s lovely. Your home.”

A slight smile, no eye crinkle. “Thank you.”

I was so nervous I audibly blew out a stream of breath. “Hi,” I said, stupidly. None of the scenarios I’d played over in my head had me speechless and acting like a twit.

His face softened, just a touch, but noticeably. “Hi,” he said back.

“I read the letter,” I blurted.

He nodded. “And?”

“And it wasn’t the one I thought it was—you know, the last one.”

“The one where you told me not to write anymore.”

“Yes. That one. I was afraid to read it, because I didn’t want to read all those awful things I’d said, how I’d played down our friendship, our …” I trailed off, not knowing quite what we’d been back then.

“It was quite bad, that letter.”

Wait, was he teasing me?

Surely not. I forged ahead. “I know, that’s why I apologised …”

“And I, uh, I burned that letter.”

He took me by surprise. “Sorry? You burned it?”

“Yes. In the backyard. Then I took the ashes and I buried them.”

“Well, that’s a little dramatic.”

He shrugged. “I was nineteen.”

“Mmm.”

“But the one I gave you, I read that letter many times. I once thought … well, in the letter, it seemed like you felt the same.”

“I did.”

That took him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I did feel the same. Back then. I only realised it when we were reading it—”

“We?”

My shoulders dropped in resignation. “Come on, you must know by now that women need a second opinion on these things. Besides, this one was my letter, and also besides …” also besides? I inwardly rolled my eyes at how inarticulate I’d become. “And also, I didn’t even see it until Jaelee pointed it out, especially the part about the blokey Australian guys.”

“That was my favourite part.” A smile with a slight eye crinkle.

“I was massively stupid.”

“I agree.” Definitely teasing me.

I realised we were moving towards each other. “And I have been massively stupid even more recently.”

“Yes. I also agree with that.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

We were only a few feet apart. “I was afraid.” No more banter, only truth.

“I know. And now?”

“I’m still afraid, but I’m being brave.”

His eyes searched mine. “You don’t have to be afraid at all, Catherine, not of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you. You’re perfect.”

A quick wry laugh. “I’m not. I am flawed, like you.”

Truth, only truth. “All right, yes, true.”

“So, what are you afraid of?”

It was here. The moment where I laid myself bare and he either wanted me or he didn’t.

“That I completely cocked this up—and I’ll lose you again.” Tears sprang to my eyes, but I dared not touch them—Dani’s eyeliner! I blinked them away.

“Oh, Catherine. Ma chérie.” He was close to me, his body almost touching mine as he took my hands in his. “You do not have to worry about that. I am right here.”

I chewed on my lip.

“So, you don’t hate me?”

He laughed and wiped away a tear that had escaped. “No. I definitely do not hate you. I adore you. I long for you. You are my Catherine, non?”

A gasp escaped me—overwhelming relief. I hadn’t completely cocked it up. Jean-Luc and I had a real chance to be together, to fall in love—again. I experienced a lightness I’d never experienced before. A burst of laughter erupted from me, then I stopped and looked into the eyes that made my heart flutter.

“You are okay?” Amusement danced in those eyes.

“Yes.” The understatement of the century.

“Bien. I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.

I didn’t speak. I just threw my arms around his neck as he pulled me close and pressed his mouth to mine. A zing of happiness pulsed through me, then I had a sudden thought.

I broke the kiss, “Oh, my case. I left it downstairs.” Sometimes, I can be painfully practical.

“Later,” he said, the low rumble of his voice awakening my lady parts. “You haven’t seen the rest of my apartment yet.” His smile held the promise of some delicious reacquainting. Then he took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom.

Fall in love