One Summer in Paris - Page 45

What was he doing now?

She turned away from the view.

She wasn’t going to think about David.

To distract herself, she walked back into the suite. It was closer to an apartment than a room, a testament to good taste, decorated with neutral elegance, with no personal touches. Cream, pale peach, touches of gold blended together to create an atmosphere of calm. There was a rosewood chest and exquisite art on the walls. The place felt expensive, which of course it was. It was costing her a small fortune to stay here.

She closed the balcony doors and explored her temporary Paris home. If she was spending the money, then she might as well enjoy it.

The dressing room was larger than her bedroom back home.

She hadn’t been looking forward to this, but now she realized how good it was to no longer be at home, surrounded by reminders of David.

She opened her suitcase and hung up her clothes. The silence unnerved her, so she walked back to the balcony and flung open the doors, letting the noise in. Car horns, shouts, street noise—the general cacophony that was Paris.

She closed her eyes, remembering the first time she’d come here.

Eighteen years old and her life so complicated she couldn’t begin to untangle it. But she had. She’d created the life she’d always wanted and had never thought for a moment that her life would one day be a mess again.

She walked into the bathroom and gulped at the opulence. It was like something from the Palace of Versailles, all mirrors and gilt. She half expected to find Louis XIV lying in the bath.

There were twin basins and she unloaded her toiletries next to one of them.

The mirrors made it possible to see herself from every angle.

She stared at her reflection, noticing the dark smudges under her eyes. Her complexion was sallow, as if she’d been stored in a dark place for six months. Her hair was lank after the journey and she felt hot and tired. Old.

She’d ignored the years, but she saw them now in the fine lines etched into her skin and the streak of silver peeping between blond strands. She thought about Lissa with her perky breasts and dewy, perfect skin and instinctively stood up straighter.

She turned away, knowing she wouldn’t be spending much time in the bathroom. Those mirrors forced reflection in more ways than one. It was tempting to spend her whole time ruminating on the past, but she knew she had to move forward.

It was early afternoon. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but she knew that if she did that she’d never adjust her sleep pattern.

Instead, she unpacked the rest of her clothes, folding them neatly into the drawers.

If David were here, he’d be watching her with one eyebrow arched.

You don’t have to be so obsessively neat, Grace. You’re allowed to leave a jacket on a chair or a shoe on the floor.

It had almost been a joke between them, her inability to have any disorder in the house.

It was a habit that had stayed with her long after her parents had died.

With a soft curse, she dragged open the drawer she’d just filled, pulled out a shirt and flung it on the bed.

Her heart started to beat faster. Her palms itched to pick it up and fold it back to neatness, but instead she reached into the drawer again and this time she flung a scarf.

“You see?” She spoke aloud. “I can let things go if I need to, but what’s the point? What’s so good about living in a mess?”

She stripped off the clothes she’d worn for traveling and dropped them on the floor.

The hotel staff would think she was a madwoman.

She walked into the bathroom and took a shower, washing away all the dirt of the journey.

She’d thought her life was clearly mapped out. Of course David’s still was. He’d simply switched certain parts around, namely her. It was like selling one house and seamlessly buying another without the need to go into rental accommodation first.

Her future, however, was not sorted. Unlike him she didn’t have a lover waiting in the wings.

Tags: Sarah Morgan Romance
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