Chapter 8
8
I had heard of Shakespeare and Company. As Ethan and I walked side-by-side under the cover of two umbrellas towards the bookshop close to Notre Dame, I understood why it was such a draw to people in Paris. The quaint, small shop with its green frontage was a treasure trove. Books lined the walls everywhere I looked as I followed Ethan inside, my mouth falling open. It had that delicious old book smell. A member of staff actually climbed a ladder to reach the top shelf for a book like something out of Beauty and the Beast . There was even a quote painted on the wall, and I loved a motivational quote.
‘You’ve gone very quiet,’ Ethan said in a low voice. I realised then he’d been watching me as I spun around, taking in the shop.
‘I kind of thought there would be no point coming to an English language bookshop while I was in Paris, but I would have missed out big time.’
Ethan smiled. ‘I’m glad you like it. I love the history of the place,’ he said as we walked deeper into the bookshop. ‘How so many writers have visited, how they let writers sleep here, how they champion books… I don’t know, it feels like you’re walking where some really important literary figures have walked too.’
I looked at him in surprise. ‘That’s a very romantic sentiment.’
‘Well, uh, I love books. And I admire anyone who can write one,’ he said, ducking his head to avoid my gaze.
‘I’m a hopeless cook so I admire what you can do,’ I told him, my eyes searching the shelves for my place in the alphabet, like they always did in a bookshop. ‘Oh.’ I stepped forward and saw they had my last book, my biggest seller so far: A Love Like Ours . ‘Look!’ I picked it up and smiled as I flicked through it.
‘Tessa,’ Ethan said playfully.
I turned to see he was holding his phone up. I shook my head with a chuckle, but I held my book up as he took my picture. We drew the attention of a member of staff who came over and Ethan eagerly told her I was the author, and she asked me to sign the copy. It never got old signing one of my books. It was something I’d practised when I was younger and dreamed of being an author. Ethan took another photo as I signed it. We both then bought a couple of books and I picked up a branded sweatshirt. We left each holding a tote bag to stroll to the café Ethan had wanted to take me to.
‘Let me send you these pictures so you can post them online,’ Ethan said as we passed by stalls selling antique books and paintings of Paris, the Seine in the distance. The rain had created puddles everywhere and was still falling gently. ‘What’s your number?’
I gave him my number and he sent the pictures he’d taken.
We arrived at the small café tucked away down a side street. One that probably only locals knew about. It was warm and dry, welcome after being outside even for a few minutes, and Ethan insisted on getting us drinks, so I sat down at a table close to the large window. I watched people passing by with umbrellas and hoods up, then I put the tote bag on the table and ran my fingers across it. My book had been in a Parisian bookshop. I thought back to the first time I’d seen something I had written on a shelf. It had been surreal and wonderful. I had felt so proud of myself. I had made my dream come true.
And now I was worried it might slip away.
‘You look deep in thought again.’
I jumped when Ethan sat down next to me. ‘I was thinking about finding my book in Shakespeare and Company. I don’t want to stop writing but what if I have to?’
Ethan passed me a cup of tea and wrapped his hands around the latte he’d got for himself.
‘Thank you.’
‘After I studied in London, I went for a job interview at a restaurant, and I had to make a dish for the chef. He was a pretty formidable character,’ Ethan said. ‘I was so intimidated. My hands shook as I cooked. I made one of their dishes and honestly, I fucked it up. I made a right hash of it and the presentation went terribly. I knew it wasn’t good enough. But that chef actually ripped me to shreds. He told me I would never be good enough to work in any restaurant. I was useless. And I should just give up. I left that interview and went home and cried.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ I said, shocked that someone could be that mean. ‘You were just starting out; what did he expect?’
Ethan shrugged. ‘I started applying for office jobs after that; I thought he was right – I wasn’t cut out for it. Then one of my friends on my course invited me to come to Paris with him. He was dating a woman called Juliette.’ Ethan paused to take a sip of his latte then he smiled as he reminisced. ‘When she found out I wanted to be a chef, she dragged me into the kitchen at her family’s restaurant and put me through my paces. I made her a pasta dish that I loved to cook and she thought it was delicious. She gave me a chance and I never looked back. But if I had listened to that chef, I’d never be where I am today. And you know what?’ He raised an eyebrow as he looked across at me.
‘What?’ I asked, hanging on his every word.
‘That chef came for a meal at the restaurant in London last month and sent his compliments to the chef. I’d made his dish.’ Ethan raised an eyebrow. ‘I have never felt so smug in my whole life.’
I burst out laughing and he smiled across at me, looking pleased.
‘Did he know it was you?’
‘I came out at the end of the meal and went to shake his hand. He said he remembered me and that he’d given me such a hard time because he knew I was better than what I’d shown him. He’d wanted to give me a push. Like chefs had done to him when he was first starting out. And if I could carry on after that, it meant I was in the right job.’
‘Wow.’ I took a sip of my tea. ‘He thought he was helping. And in a funny way, he did. Look at you now. I remember the first time an editor told me I had promise. She rejected my book but it gave me the confidence to keep going, to show her that I could do it. I wrote another book and she loved it, and gave me a book deal. If I had given up because of her rejection…’ I sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t want to give up now.’
‘You still love writing?’
I nodded. ‘Yes. And seeing my name on a book. Seeing that book on the shelf. Or when someone messages me to say they loved something I have written. That it helped them escape life for a little bit. That I can make someone smile after a bad day with my words. ’
‘It’s the same for me. That feeling that someone loves something you’ve made. It’s a special one.’
We smiled at one another. We had different professions but they were both creative. We both made things for people to hopefully enjoy, and we both took it seriously. We had passion for our work. It wasn’t just a job. It was something special. I liked that we had it in common.
‘You won’t give it up,’ Ethan said then. ‘I saw the look on your face when you saw your book in the shop. You can’t let that go.’
I looked at the photo he had sent me. I did look so happy. ‘I don’t want Joe to be like that chef was for you; I don’t want him to stop me doing something I love. But walking into that party and seeing him kissing that woman, it just made me feel so stupid for believing in him and what we had, for thinking I’d found my happy ending after writing so many of them for my characters. It made me think that what I was writing was just one epic lie. Maybe no one ever gets a happy ever after in real life, so how I can bear to keep writing them in my books, you know?’
I saw Ethan’s face, his mouth set in a hard line as he stared down at his coffee cup.
‘Oh, sorry,’ I said quickly. ‘I know we said we wouldn’t mention what happened between me and Joe… I don’t want to put you in an awkward position; I know he is your best friend.’
Ethan took a second to respond, looking like he was weighing up what to say next. ‘Tessa, I want you to know that I don’t support anyone cheating, friend or not,’ he said firmly. His phone on the table vibrated with a call then. ‘Is it okay if I take this?’ he asked me.
I nodded and took a sip of my tea, wishing I could know more about what he thought of what Joe had done.
‘Bonjour, Juliette,’ Ethan said enthusiastically. ‘We were just talking about you.’ He dropped me a wink and I smiled back. Then he started talking in rapid French. I listened in wonder, wishing I had learnt another language.
Then Ethan switched to English and looked at me as he held the phone to his ear. ‘I don’t know, Juliette,’ Ethan said hesitantly. He glanced at me. ‘I’ve already invaded her holiday enough. But… okay, okay, I’ll ask her…’ Ethan pulled the phone away from his ear. He looked nervous. ‘So, no pressure to say yes at all, okay? But Juliette and my friends are back from her country place and they want to eat at her family’s restaurant tonight. It’s where I worked when I lived here. They would love you to come. They all want to meet you.’
‘They do?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ he said, surprised by my reaction. ‘It’s not every day two people get stuck in a one-bedroom apartment together.’ He looked kind of shy then. ‘But I understand if it’s too much. We are hanging out more than we thought…’ He trailed off.
I hesitated. I had never loved meeting lots of new people, and my experience with Joe keeping me from his friends and family had sunk my confidence at doing so even further. ‘You really want me to?’ I asked uncertainly.
Ethan nodded. ‘Of course. We’re friends now, right?’ I thought I caught hope in his expression.
It felt good knowing he wanted to keep hanging out with me. I breathed through my nerves and nodded. ‘Okay, then.’
His face relaxed into a warm smile. ‘Great!’ He went back to Juliette and spoke again in French before saying, ‘Okay, okay, bye,’ and hanging up. ‘Sorry for putting you on the spot like that. You’ll find out that Juliette is very hard to say no to.’ He was smiling fondly though. I wondered if they had dated. Or were dating. And my stomach clenched a little bit. ‘They’re coming round at seven. It will be fun. I’m glad you’re going to meet them. They are really great people.’ We looked at one another. It felt like Joe was on both of our minds. I hoped Ethan’s French friends were nothing like him. ‘You still want to?’ he checked again. Maybe he wasn’t as confident as I had assumed he was.
It felt like a key moment in this burgeoning friendship of ours. I could say no to hanging out with him and his friends and then he would leave to stay elsewhere. Ethan would go back to being someone I didn’t know.
But that felt wrong. It didn’t make sense that I wanted to spend more time with him, what with his connection to my ex, but I was enjoying the spots he was taking me to in Paris. He had a calmness about him that I was drawn to. Plus, I couldn’t help but be intrigued about his friend Juliette. Ethan’s whole face had lit up when he spoke to her. She had invited me out with them later. Which suggested Ethan had said something complimentary about me or enough to make her want to meet me.
I’d love you to come.
His words echoed in my ears. It was a very different sentiment to Joe. He had kept me from people he knew. I had started to feel he was ashamed of me. Now I knew it had been to make sure that no one could tell me about his other woman, but feeling that I wasn’t good enough was hard to shake. So such an easy invite from Ethan did feel good. He told me I could trust him. I had no idea if I would ever be able to do that, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him forever either.
‘I still want to come along,’ I told him.
‘Yeah?’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Great. And I can maybe stay with Juliette afterwards, give you your space back,’ he added quietly, avoiding my gaze.
‘Oh, right,’ I replied, thinking the apartment would feel kind of lonely without him there .
‘Shit, look at the time,’ Ethan said suddenly. ‘I better head off to my course. Will you be okay?’
‘Of course,’ I assured him. ‘I’ll see you later, at the apartment? For seven?’
‘See you there, Tessa.’ He drained the rest of his coffee and got up and, with a wave, disappeared into the Paris rain.
I let out a sigh. I had just agreed to a night out with his French friends. What was Paris doing to me? I pulled up the picture Ethan had taken of me then I opened up Instagram. I searched for his name and saw he had an account on there. His photos were mostly, unsurprisingly, of food and a few of his friends. There wasn’t one of Joe that I could see. Which was a relief. I pressed the follow button.
Then I went to my account and posted the photo Ethan had taken of me in Shakespeare and Company. I tagged him and thanked him for taking me to such a wonderful bookshop and said how happy I had been to find one of my books in there. I looked at my smile in the picture. I seemed more relaxed than I had been for a while. Was that just because of Paris – or Ethan too?
Then I put my phone down and panic hit me. I wondered how sophisticated Ethan’s friends were. I had nothing nice to wear. I had no idea what one even wore to a Parisian restaurant. I was a jeans-and-a-t-shirt woman. I liked to be comfortable. I didn’t enjoy dressing up. I didn’t really own many dresses or skirts. I didn’t feel like myself if I wore them. And heels felt like torture devices to me.
Why can’t you wear a dress for once?
Joe’s words echoed through my mind. He had given me a sneer looking at me one evening before we went out for a meal. I had on jeans, a t-shirt and my leather jacket and trainers. I had felt so shit when he’d said that to me. I hated that he had made me feel like I should change if I wanted him to be happy with me. If I wanted him to love me. I had been so worried he would leave me. I wish I had known what kind of man he was and walked away before he was able to hurt me like he had done.
Ugh!
Getting up, I left the café and checked on my phone for shops nearby. I had heard of the department store Galeries Lafayette Paris Haussmann. The rain had started to ease so I decided to walk there.
I didn’t want to keep replaying conversations with Joe over and over in my mind forever. It was like one of my books except I couldn’t change the ending or throw in a plot twist. Real life never went the way you wanted it to. I couldn’t control it like I could my stories. I fantasised about all the things I could have said or done while I was with Joe. But would the outcome have changed even if I could go back and do it differently? And did I even want to any more?
If I was honest, Joe had made me unsure whether anyone could love me for who I was. And I hated that. I didn’t want to think that way. Joe had been a liar and a cheat. He was in the wrong. So why did I still feel like what happened was somehow my fault?
Fuck him for making me feel like this.
I found the department store after a long but pleasant walk. It was stunning inside, similar to Harrods in London, and I walked around in awe. I had felt pressure to dress more like Joe wanted me to even though I felt uncomfortable. But I didn’t want him to be in my head about my style any more. I wanted to be myself. To dress how I wanted to. I didn’t want to feel like I had to change for someone again.
Wandering around the clothes section, I had to stop myself thinking about what Ethan’s friends would be dressing like and focus on what I wanted to wear. Ethan had only seen me in jeans and he had still invited me tonight. Still wanted me to come. No mention of what I needed to wear. I hoped that meant he didn’t care. I wanted to wear something that made me feel good, not something that I thought I should put on to fit in then feel miserable all night. Like I had so many times while I was with Joe. I couldn’t get that time, those nights, back, but I could make sure I didn’t fall into the same trap again.
I spotted one of my favourite brands then. It was pricey but they did some really chic streetwear and even though I knew I probably shouldn’t spend too much money in case I couldn’t write this book, there was something about being on holiday that made it easier to throw caution to the wind. To worry less about my looming deadline. To try to just enjoy myself.
I saw a grey faded T-shirt with a phoenix on it. I snapped a photo and sent it to Carly.
Too on the nose?
She replied quickly as always.
We love a not-so subtle dig.
She added a thumbs-up emoji.
I headed to pay for the top and sent another message to Carly as I waited in the queue.
Are you feeling any better?
Not really, think it might be the flu or something. Luckily, I don’t have much on for the next couple of days so going to rest. That tee for anything special?
I’m going out to a restaurant tonight, with Ethan and some of his Parisian friends.
You’re hanging out with Ethan now?!!!
I smiled at the exclamation marks.
He’s actually a nice guy. He took me to a bookshop today! I have no idea why he’s friends with Joe, they are so different. It’s nice having him around. I’ve been stressing less about the book.
After paying for the t-shirt, I added it to the bookshop tote bag then decided to take a slow stroll back to the apartment as the rain had finally ceased. Carly replied as I walked along the river.
Anything that makes you stress less is good IMHO.
Aw thanks. Make sure Luke takes cares of you!
I put my phone away. Carly, Luke and London felt very far away right now. It was a novelty to feel less stress after having so many weeks of feeling weighted down by it. Even my muscles felt less tense. My shoulders weren’t raised up to my ears. There was still a long way to go for me to feel ready to write again, but I was starting to miss it. And that could only be a good sign.
I opened up Instagram and saw that Ethan had followed me back and liked the picture of me in the bookshop. I smiled all the way home.