Page 77 of The Last Kiss

“Oui,” I answer.

“Room fifteen. Breakfast ends at seven sharp.”

“Seven!” I exclaim, but then clamp my lips shut.

“Evening meals, should you wish to dine with us, are served in the restaurant. You will need to make a reservation.”

“Okay, thanks.” I almost bob a curtsey. How can such a beautiful building house such a miserable old crone? Mysteries of the universe and all that.

“Thank you. I’m going to go exploring.” She hands me a key with the biggest wooden keyring on it I’ve ever seen. I see the game here, make it so big that people can’t put it in their pockets and walk off with them. This way all keys are left at reception and she knows who is in and out. “Merci.” I take the key and force it into the back pocket of my cropped jeans.

Leaving the sour-faced old coot, I seek out room fifteen, although the smell of coffee is making my stomach growl with the zest of a bear straight out of hibernation. Well, it’s sure too late for breakfast and nowhere close to dinner, so I push on for my room, determined to get back out in the sunshine and find a small café to eat at.

The room makes me exhale a low and steady breath. Unlike the dim and cool interior of reception this is something else entirely: feminine and delicate with whites and blues, sheer voile curtains brushed in a breeze through the open balcony doors. “Oh my,” I breathe out loud, my own voice bouncing back at me. Stalking for the curtains, I pulled them to one side to be greeted by the most spectacular view of streets winding off into the distance, framed by a vivid blue sky. Down below a canal or maybe a river, if there’s a difference, serenely cut through the street.

I think I’m finally in love. Eager to get out there, to walk those winding paths, to touch and feel all the things, I plant my suitcase on the bed and tear open the zip. Grabbing my hairbrush, I yank it through my hair and tie it in a high ponytail before squirting myself with some perfume. No time for showers, I want to explore. The shoe situation needs more thought though. I go back to the Juliette balcony to look at the pavements. As much as I love my gladiator sandals, I will fall on my ass in them. I pull out my Converse and tie them on, before realising the look is putting me into the ‘man pant’ zone. Flipping through my capsule packing, I tug free a cotton dress and quickly swap my jeans and t-shirt, pairing the low-cut trainers with a sundress. Now I look like I’m on holiday. The cardigan I needed when leaving England can stay firmly behind. I throw it onto a high back chair.

Right. This is it.

Life.

I pause at the door. The unknown stretches in front of me. There’s a little voice that says, Julia, you came here to find Henri, not buy knick knacks. But I push it away. I can find Henri tomorrow when I’ve had a shower and prepared… I still need to consider what I’m going to say to him, other than the fact I’ve stalked him all the way to his home because my life is about to end, and this trip is my last hurrah.

Yeah, I need to work on that.

I don’t feel like my life is going to end. Right now, it seems ridiculous that’s even a possibility. I’m buzzing, fizzing like a shaken bottle of champagne.

Grabbing the key and knowing I’m going to have to give it back to the sour puss at the desk, I slip back out of the room.

Desk woman isn’t there, so I drop the key in the box and make my way outside, the sunshine sinking into my skin, kissing the tip of my nose and turning my hair warm.

Turning right, I walk along the river with its brasseries and restaurants, all of them offering a plat du jour. I stop at a couple, perusing their menu, grateful for the Anglais page, of fresh caught fish or varying cuts of steak. My stomach growls again but I don’t want to sit in a full restaurant, I want to explore. I’ll seek out somewhere to buy a pastry and a coffee while I walk. There are narrow lanes leading away from the main drag, and I dive up one on instinct, thrusting forward into a warren of close shops, cobbled streets, and geranium-filled hanging baskets which splatter red, white and pink like they are waving a new national flag. The air in my lungs is sweet, tinged with the earthy scent of the flowers and leather goods being offered by the nearest shop which has handbags hanging on rails outside its windows. Automatically, I reach to touch the warm and supple leather, ducking my head when the owner blasts a string of French at me I have no hope of understanding, although I can get the gist he wants me to come inside and buy all his fine goods, not that he’s accusing me of stealing any of them. He throws his hands to the side with a shrug as I walk away, and it makes my stomach lurch.

What am I doing? I came here to find Henri, not buy a handbag. This is typical Julianna, hiding not living.

Bollocks. With a newfound sense of determination, I go to head back down to the river. I can find something to eat eventually, but first I need to find Henri. I’ve got to face this full on. No more hiding, no more burying my head in the sand.

I manage a whole twenty seconds, until I’m heading back in the direction of the hotel and a familiar shape is walking towards me. I’d know the strong curve of the shoulders anywhere, the slim narrowing of his waist. I know them more than I know his favourite colour. What I don’t know, or who I don’t know rather is the tall blonde with his arm looped through his.

That’s my elbow to hold I want to shout, but of course I don’t. I stand there like a fish gasping for breath out of water and about to be gutted alive.

I can feel his eyes land on me, the familiar shiver running over my skin. I want to run, but my feet have cemented themselves to the pavement.

Too late, too slow, I spin and turn away, my cheeks so hot I think that they might melt off my face.

“Julianna?” His call is laced with total disbelief.

I keep walking. I can’t run… because I nearly die, literally.

Although I’m pretty close to dying with total mortification anyway.

What the hell have I been thinking? We never made any promises to one another, we never even had anything set in stone to see one another again. The leggy blonde is his reason enough.

This whole insane love affair is all in my head. Of course, it’s in my head.

I shudder as he grasps his fingers onto the bare skin of my elbow. My eyes are so hot with tears I can’t see through the blur.

“Am I dreaming?” His nose skims my cheek, his sunshine and mint filling my senses.