y.

In the morning she threw open the shutters and stood for a moment watching sunshine dance across the roofs of Paris. The apartment was tiny but the position perfect, just a few steps from the river Seine. If she stood on tiptoe and peeped out of the small bathroom window she could see the distinctive architecture of the Louvre.

With light and fresh air pouring into the apartment, she started clearing.

It took her two days.

She filled huge sacks with clothing and possessions. Some she threw away, some she took to a thrift store. She wanted no reminders of the past, no reminders of the bad choices she’d made, the consequences, the misery. The only exception to that were a few personal items of her mother’s and a collection of photographs. She’d had no idea her mother had taken so many. A quick glance showed that they ranged from baby photos right through to a clipping of Élise being the only woman in the otherwise all-male kitchen of Chez Laroche. Finding an empty shoe box she stuffed them inside, promising herself that she’d look at them properly one day, hoping the time would come when she’d be able to go through them without feeling bad.

When she’d finished clearing, she vacuumed, polished and wiped until the place gleamed and not a speck of dust remained.

It helped her to keep busy, to occupy her mind and to not think.

She tried not to think about cooking with her mother, about those dark days with Pascal. But the one thing she absolutely couldn’t stop thinking about was the O’Neils.

What would they be doing now? She glanced at her phone and calculated the time difference. It would be morning in Vermont and they’d be serving breakfast in the Boathouse.

Kayla would be on her phone, checking emails. Tyler would be eyeing the female guests and grumbling about the work. Walter would be overdoing it. Alice would be knitting and worrying and Elizabeth would be busy in the kitchens with Poppy. And Jackson, dear Jackson, would be keeping everything going, steering the ship into deeper water so it didn’t smash to pieces on the rocks.

Did they miss her? Did they think of her?

No, probably not.

She’d let Jackson down. After everything he’d done for her, she’d let him down.

To drive out the guilt and the misery she worked herself to the point of exhaustion but still she couldn’t sleep and at night she lay awake in the bed listening to the scream of car engines, horns and sounds of the city finding it impossible not to think of Heron Lodge.

She missed the peace of the lake, the nights when the only sound was the hoot of an owl swooping overhead. She missed the smell of the water and the fresh scent of the forest.

She missed Sean.

Not that she loved him, because she absolutely didn’t. She’d switched that part of herself off, refused to allow her emotions access to her decision-making or the way she lived her life. But they’d had a wonderful summer and she missed him. She missed the laughter, the flirting, his intelligence, his appreciation of food and wine and yes, she missed the sex. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Had he been home since that day he’d told her he loved her? Was he still staying away?

She hoped not.

She rose early and was sitting on the floor, sorting listlessly through yet another drawer full of photographs when she heard the unmistakable sound of male footsteps on the curving staircase that led to her top-floor apartment.

She’d barely left the apartment except for her few trips to the shops. It was unlikely that anyone she knew had spotted her. Even less likely that Pascal would take the trouble to pay her a visit.

All the same her heart stumbled as she heard the footsteps pause outside her door.

Had Pascal somehow found out she was back?

“Élise?”

Her heart stumbled as she recognized Sean’s voice.

Sean was in Paris?

Scrambling to her feet, she pulled open the door. “What are you doing here? Has something happened to Walter? Or Jackson?”

“Why do you always assume that when I show up there has to be bad news?” He held up a bottle of wine. “I found this amazing bottle of Pinot Noir and I have no one to drink it with. It’s wasted on Tyler and Jackson is too busy.”

She gave a choked laugh. “So you flew to Paris?”

“I don’t know anyone who appreciates wine and food like you do.”

Tags: Sarah Morgan O'Neil Brothers Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net