Lost in Paris by Elizabeth Thompson (ebook smartphone .txt) 📕

that Gabriel Cerny would no longer handle any of our business with the firm.

He promised he would do one better: we would not be billed for any hours we had worked with Cerny. Levesque also promised to take the issue to the partners.

Within an hour Levesque called me back with Dr. Campbell’s contact information, and now, a day later, Marla is on a train barreling its way toward London to bring him a copy of the manuscript. We’d ended up biting the bullet and printing photos of each page ourselves at a local print shop.

Really, we could’ve mailed the copy, but Marla insisted on going in person. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to get away for a few days.

More selfishly, I’d been looking forward to some time by myself. The apartment is beginning to feel like home. There are reminders of Granny Ivy everywhere. It’s nice to be able to sit in stillness surrounded by her belongings and meditate on what she must have been like as a young woman.

I have settled onto the couch with the 1929 diary when my phone rings. I answer it without even looking at the number because I am expecting an update from Marla. She should be arriving at St. Pancras station in London right about now.

“Hannah, thank God. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Gooseflesh forms on my arms at the sound of the Scottish accent.

“Aiden, hello. I’m sorry I haven’t called you back. It’s been…” I don’t quite know what to say. It’s been weird. I’ve been busy with work and fending off randy Frenchmen. You’re in London; I’m in Paris—oh, and how’s Jemma?

“I’m in Paris on business. I know how busy you are, but I hope you have time to see a friend.”

A friend. I’m not sure if that makes things better or worse.

“Of course. I’d love to see you. How long are you here?”

“Just tonight. Are you free for dinner? There’s a fun event I think you might enjoy.”

We make plans for him to come by the apartment at 7:00 p.m. He was cryptic about the dinner, but it’s something work related and I am to dress in all black. Nothing too fancy, but it must be all black. Head to toe.

We chat for a while. Long enough for me to pique his curiosity about the apartment. I can’t blame him. I’m still discovering new treasures in this trove.

Soon, it’s time to get ready.

After I shower, I can’t find my brush, which I need to blow-dry my hair. It’s odd because I don’t remember removing it from the bathroom. I end up using my fingers because I’ve wasted so much time looking for it that I’m cutting it dangerously close to not being ready when Aiden arrives.

When I go to brush my teeth, I can’t find my toothbrush.

My favorite lipstick is missing, too.

One thing might be misplaced, but three things missing? That’s weird.

I shoot Marla a quick text.

Can’t find my hairbrush, toothbrush, and lipstick. Have you seen them?

No one else has been in the apartment. Maybe she moved them?

While I’ve been working, she’s done a good job keeping things picked up. We have to be neat since we’re living in such close quarters. I’m surprised by her level of tidiness.

I wait for her reply, but nothing comes.

Aiden will be here in ten minutes. I resort to the old toothpaste-on-the-finger trick and gargle with mouthwash.

As I dress, taking underwear from the dresser, I see the sexy undies I bought in the Galeries Lafayette before dinner with Gabriel. It feels triggering. I push them to the back of the drawer in favor of a pair of granny panties, as Marla lovingly calls my French-cut cotton briefs.

What does it say about you when your mother’s lingerie drawer whispers boudoir and yours screams big-box store?

It doesn’t really matter, I think, as I pull on Marla’s little black dress—the same one I wore to Gabriel’s—because I’m not in the habit of showing off my drawers to friends.

I fish another tube of lipstick out of the bottom of my purse. It’s not my usual color, but it will have to do. I’m swiping it on as Aiden knocks on the door.

My heartbeat kicks up and I almost smudge.

Other than the attorneys, photographer, and the cleaning crew, Aiden is my first official guest at the apartment. When I answer the door and see him standing there in all his dark, smoldering glory, I have the same visceral reaction I had the first time I saw him. My heart is still beating like crazy. My mouth goes dry, but my hands get a little damp. I wipe them on the skirt of my dress, a motion that I hope looks like I’m smoothing it into place.

“Aiden,” I say. “Welcome to Paris.”

He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and I remember New Year’s Eve… the kiss we shared that seemed like so much more than a friendly peck… the party at Jemma’s house… the way drunk Jemma was all over him at my going-away dinner.

He wouldn’t call me if something was going on between them, would he?

Then again, Gabriel was married, and that didn’t stop him.

“Come in.” I step back and motion for him to enter.

He smells good. A mixture of soap and leather with notes of green grass and cedar. I breathe in deeply as the sleeve of his jacket brushes my arm, conjuring the goose bumps all over again.

Where is my resolve to not go all weak-kneed over this friend?

“You can hang your jacket on the coat tree.”

As he slips out of it, I say, “See the coat hanging there? It was here when we first opened the apartment doors. You should’ve seen it. It was covered with cobwebs and dust. We sent it out to have it cleaned and then returned it to its original place. It seemed only right to keep things as my great-grandmother left them.”

Aiden shakes his head, clearly still astounded. “Quite a story you’ve got here.”

“Well, Marla