Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“You can rent it from now, but yes, the landlord is happy with first of January.”
There’s not much to see, so we end the tour quickly. Jean-Luc doesn’t spend time trying to sell the unit to me. He probably knows it will get snapped up. “Call me, Ellie,” he says as he spins his keys around his index finger.
“Thank you,” I call after him.
“And you were worried about me cheating? You’re going to be in Paris, with all these…Parisian men.”
“Which you don’t have to worry about,” I remind him. “Because we’re not together.”
“Oh yeah,” he says flatly. “What’s next?”
“I have another appointment in just under half an hour. It’s only about a ten-minute walk east.”
“Lead the way,” he says.
I bring up Google maps and we cross the road toward the next flat. “What did you think of that one?” I ask.
“You don’t want to know,” he says.
“Aren’t you here to help me decide?” I ask.
“No, I’m here as your friend, to keep you company. That’s it. I don’t want to be accused of…I just want to be here.”
“Accused of what?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I don’t want you to think I’m concerned about how comfortable it will be for…us. Whatever place you choose has to feel right to you, not me. I accept your decision to end things.”
I stop and look up at him. “Have you?”
“You said that’s what you want, so I have to. That means I’m not going to offer my opinion on these flats because I don’t like any of them.”
Familiar guilt rises in my stomach and I bow my head and sigh. “I know. You don’t want me to live here at all.”
He cups my face and lifts my chin so I meet his gaze.
“Of course I want you to live here. A year at Le Cordon Bleu on a scholarship is all your dreams rolled into one. And I don’t know if you realize this, but your dream for you is my dream for you.” He swallows and I dip my gaze to catch the bob of his Adam’s apple. He can’t mean that, can he? If he’s faking it, he’s doing a mighty good job. “I’m only sorry I won’t be here with you every weekend.”
It’s like his words tug at a cord in my stomach. I can’t regret that I’ve won this scholarship, but I can regret I’m going to have to walk away from Zach.
He releases me and we continue our walk.
“You’re right though,” he continues. “I wouldn’t be able to come out every weekend. Sometimes I’d have to cover shifts. Sometimes I’ll be writing or doing publicity. If I wasn’t working, it would be a different matter,” Zach says. “I’d move to Paris with you.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You would?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know, maybe because we’ve known each other for five minutes?”
“That’s not true. We worked together for what, a month before Scotland? Then we lived together for almost a week. And since then it’s been…what? Three weeks?”
“Exactly. It’s been a month.”
“Is there a set amount of time you have to put in before you feel serious about a person?” he asks. His tone isn’t joking, more interested and inquisitive.
“Of course not…” I don’t have much to compare my relationship with Zach to. “But a month is too short a time to put your life on hold for someone.”
“I agree, but we’re not talking about putting our lives on hold.”
I know what he’s saying sounds logical. I really do. He wants to keep going and see where we end up. If long distance doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out.
But it’s not that simple.
I know it won’t work out, and I’ll be bracing myself for the end for the entire relationship.
I can’t live like that.
Thirty-Two
Zach
Nothing much raises an eyebrow in London. There’s a place for everything and everybody. Still, I get more attention than I expect as I head towards Mrs. Fletcher’s office on Lower Regent Street carrying the bottle of champagne she instructed me to bring along to our meeting.
There’s a group of girls gathered around Eros’s fountain, all wearing plastic tiaras, and I can see them pointing at me and whispering. “Need someone to share that with?” one of them calls out.
“Give my mate a kiss, will you? She’s getting married next week.”
It’s not like I’m about to kiss a stranger, but suddenly the idea of kissing anyone ever again other than Ellie seems utterly ridiculous.
“Have a good night, girls,” I say as I pass them by with a smile and a two-fingered salute.
I turn left into the lobby of Mrs. Fletcher’s office. She told me to be there at three forty-five on the dot with a bottle of chilled champagne. I check the time on my phone. So far, so good. I’ve got five minutes to spare.