French Kissing (31 page)

I opened my eyes. For a moment, I was blinded by afternoon sunlight streaming through my window. Then I gasped. Lying on my pillow was a long-stemmed red rose. Next to it was a tiny metal statuette of the Eiffel Tower, less than an inch high, and a pale cream envelope with my name written on the front in Alex's handwriting. Alex was sitting on the end of my bed.

He smiled. ‘
Bonjour
, Anna.'

‘Alex –' My voice caught in my throat. I sat up, reaching for the rose and holding it close to my face so that I could smell its scent, scarcely daring to hope that I knew why Alex had put it on my pillow. I picked up the tiny statue, balancing it on my hand.

‘I wanted to give you a souvenir of your first visit to Paris – I thought this was less tacky than that gold statue you nearly bought –' He broke off. ‘Anna, have you been crying?'

‘I – Yes –'

‘But why?'

‘Cécile.'

He frowned. ‘What about her?'

‘I – I thought – you were still in love with her.'

‘
Quoi?
Why would you think that? No, I am
not
in love with Cécile. I have no feelings left for her at all.'

‘You let her into your apartment –'

‘The state she was in, I couldn't turn her away.'

‘I thought you were sending me away, so that you could be with her.'

‘Is that how it seemed to you?
Je suis désolé.
I didn't want to deal with my hysterical ex-girlfriend in front of you. And you did have a train to catch. So, much as I didn't want to be parted from you, I didn't ask you to stay with me. After I'd taken your case downstairs, I went back up to my apartment, and made it clear to Cécile that there was no chance of us ever getting back together. There were some harsh words said – by her – and then she left. She's no longer a part of my life.' He reached up and trailed a finger down the side of my face. ‘There's no reason for you to be sad.'

‘I know that now. Now that you're here with me.'

Alex leant towards me, his finger tilting up my chin. And then he kissed me. The rose and the statue fell from my hands, and I melted against him. Still kissing me, he put his arms around me, and together we sank back onto the bed.

I said, ‘If you knew how many times I wondered what it would be like to kiss you – even before we went to Paris.'

He laughed. ‘There were occasions when I caught myself thinking about doing a lot more with you than kissing. I'd never have made a move on you, of course.'

‘Why not?' I was genuinely curious.

‘You and I were
friends.
Before we went to Paris.'

‘And now …?'

‘Anna – you haven't read your letter.'

I picked up the cream envelope, tore it open, and read the letter inside. Suddenly, I couldn't stop smiling.

He said, ‘There was a moment at the Gallery Lécuyer – we were looking at
Anna Awakening –
that was when I realised that you were more than just a friend to me.'

‘I don't know exactly when it was I fell for you,' I said, ‘but it was long before this morning, when I woke up next to you in your bed.'

‘I want to wake up next to you every morning of my life. Which is why we need to talk.' He took my hand. ‘I can work anywhere, Anna. If you'll have me, I won't go back to France in July. I'll stay in London with you. Unless – would you consider living with me in Paris?'

I smiled at him. ‘Alex, I would love to wake up next to you every morning in Montmartre. I would love to live with you in Paris.
Je t'aime.
'

He kissed me again, for a very long time. And then I re-read my letter. The shortest – and best – letter he'd ever written to me.

Dear Anna,

I love you.

Alex xx

Contemporary Women's Fiction

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Lynne Shelby

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Published by Accent Press Ltd 2015

ISBN 9781783758029

Copyright ©
Lynne Shelby
2015

The right of
Lynne Shelby
to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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