Regrets (Follow Your Heart Book 2) Page 7

  As if on cue, he walked into the kitchen, a bag of potatoes on his back. She watched his arm muscles ripple as he lowered it onto the floor.

  ‘Salut, Leed.’ He nodded in her direction. ‘Good to see you.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Claudine said eet ees just you and me tonight.’ His brown eyes stared at her, unfaltering.

  ‘Yes.’ She sounded breathless.

  ‘I am ’appy zat we are togezzer.’

  She turned her crimson face away. ‘I must fill the jugs.’

  Service ended around ten thirty.

  ‘Drink?’ asked Mathis, holding up a bottle of Beaujolais. ‘I am, ’ow do you say eet – wrecked?’

  Lydia giggled. ‘Okay, a small glass then.’

  She took off her apron and positioned herself on a barstool. Releasing her hair from its barrette, she shook it out, luxuriating in the freedom of letting it fall.

  Looking up, she saw Mathis gazing at her through half-closed eyes.

  ‘Leed, ’ow ees Fabian?’ he asked eventually. ‘I ’ave not seen ’im ’ere for a long time.’

  ‘We aren’t together, I mean, we split some time ago …’

  ‘Oh?’ His eyes stayed on her face.

  She felt the heat rise up her neck.

  ‘Yeah,’ she whispered. Her breath quickened.

  He sipped his wine slowly and placed it on the counter. His tanned hands reached out and pulled her gently towards him.

  Lydia’s green eyes were huge as he brushed a tendril of hair from her face.

  ‘I want you,’ he said simply. ‘I theenk you want me too.’

  She nodded wordlessly. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her slowly and thoroughly.

  ‘I ’ave wanted zees for a long time, Leed.’ He trailed his tongue over hers, tantalising her.

  She pulled him closer, running her fingers through his thick brown hair. He growled and lifted her upwards, so that she was moulded to him. Lydia lost herself in the moment. He was a fantastic kisser. She allowed herself to let go; she just abandoned everything.

  He ground against her. His hair smelt of smoke and shampoo. Her breasts heaved as she pressed up against his muscular chest.

  Without a word, he yanked her skirt up. She fumbled with his belt.

  Two seconds later, she was sitting on the bar counter, her legs open, waiting for him.

  He paused for a second before plunging into her. She screamed in pleasure and began to rock backwards and forwards.

  ‘Oh, Mathis!’ she breathed heavily. ‘Keep going, keep going!’

  He buried his face in her neck as he came, kissing her skin over and over again.

  ‘T’es belle, t’es belle,’ he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

  She kissed him softly on the lips. They stared at each for a moment, both lost in the waves of pleasure from their brief union.

  ‘Imagine if Claudine had walked in!’ she said, shocked at how jolted she felt. It had been a surprise, but a great surprise.

  ‘She would be ’appy. She has wanted zees for a long time too.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Oui. I ’ave, how does Laura say ‘eet? Fancied you for ages.’

  Lydia felt a warm glow in her belly. It felt nice to be fancied. Especially by a hot guy. Pulling down her skirt, she hopped onto the floor.

  ‘Let’s finish our wine and head back to mine,’ she suggested shyly. ‘I mean, only if you want to ... ?’

  He grabbed her wrist and drew her close. ‘I want to. I want to vairy much.’

  ‘Okay, Lyd. I’ve booked London for March. Will Paddy’s weekend suit you?’

  Lydia paused to think. St. Patrick’s Day was not a big affair in Paris. She was pretty sure Claudine would give her the time off. That is, if she was still in Paris at that stage. Ireland was calling her – her homeland was luring her back.

  ‘That sounds great, Sandra. Will it be a big gang?’

  ‘Well, it’ll be me, you, Sam, of course. Helen and Molly. Colin. Martha can’t make it, unfortunately. Oh, and Sam said to ask that girl you work with – Laura, is it?’

  ‘Really? Oh, that’s great. She’ll be delighted.’

  ‘Great, love. Now get booking. Friday to Sunday if possible.’

  The line went dead.

  Almost immediately, her phone buzzed again. It was a message from Mathis, asking to meet her near Pigalle later.

  She smiled broadly. He was so sweet. Things had been great since that night in the restaurant. They were sort of going out together. They went to the cinema and had drinks. Claudine had been delighted when she’d heard. She clapped her hands together in delight, shouting that it was about time and why hadn’t it happened sooner?

  Lydia couldn’t help but agree with her. It’s like Mathis had always been there in the background. He had listened to her tales of woe when she’d broken up with yet another guy. He had made her sugary coffee to wake her up when she’d arrived in hungover. He was gorgeous-looking, with the a Roman nose and the dark skin. His glossy, chestnut hair was curly and framed his face. His brown eyes were like pools of Nutella. Lydia giggled to herself. Hardly the most romantic of images, but an apt description nonetheless.

  He was waiting for her by the metro station, wearing his big bomber jacket as it was freezing cold.

  ‘Leed!’ He engulfed her in a bear hug. ‘You look so belle.’ He kissed her cold nose.

  ‘God, it’s cold,’ she moaned, cuddling close to him. ‘What’s the plan?’

  ‘Some food? Some wine?’ He clasped her hands in his and squeezed them tightly. ‘We could go to Michel’s.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m starving. Let’s go.’

  Holding hands, they walked easily together down the crowded footpath.

  ‘I ’ave some news,’ he said as they crossed the street. ‘I ’ave been accepted into zat course I wanted. I ’ave to tell Claudine that I ’ave to queet.’

  Lydia gasped. ‘That’s wonderful news! Oh, Mat, I’m delighted!’ She kissed him full on the lips, ignoring the catcalls from a group of students by the shop nearby.

  ‘I am so ’appy but I ’ate to leave her down.’

  ‘You’re bettering yourself – she will understand that.’

  ‘Oui.’ He didn’t sound convinced. He knew what an asset he was to the business. ‘Please don’t say anysing until I am ready.’

  ‘Of course I won’t.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I can see it now. Mathis Collard awarded two Michelin stars!’

  He laughed. ‘I do not theenk so.’

  They arrived at Michel’s, a small bistro by the foot of Montmartre. The entrance was framed by ivy, and the ancient stone walls were a dark grey. Peering in the window, Lydia could see that it was busy. Each table was occupied; waiters were scurrying around with laden trays and bottles of wine from the cellar. The candles on the tables were the main source of light, so as a result shadows danced off the walls.

  ‘Will we get a table?’ she asked worriedly. ‘It looks pretty packed.’

  Mathis nodded, pushing open the heavy oak door. ‘They will nevair turn me away, Leed. I know zee chef.’

  Later that night, they lay naked and entwined in Lydia’s bed. She rested her head on his chest and sighed contentedly.

  ‘I had a really nice time,’ she muttered, sleepily.

  He kissed her hair. ‘Me too. I like being with you.’

  She said nothing. She really liked him, but whenever she was with a guy, she couldn’t quite let him in. It was like she had a barrier, a block that prevented any guy from getting too close. Ever since the Dominic debacle, she had shut down her emotions. Gone was the carefree, open girl who did well at everything and had the perfect boyfriend. She had transformed irrevocably; her parents saw her differently now, especially her dad. Even Colin, her most loyal companion, said how much she had changed. She had hardened, somehow. She had lost her innocence.

  She was to blame for this transformation. Her weak will and desire for Luca had changed her path in life.
If she had never met him, she would probably be married right now. She definitely wouldn’t have dropped out of college. She would more than likely have her own Baby Seán.

  The road not taken, she thought, sadly.

  Her grandmother Alice had always told her that life was ‘ordained’, as she put it. What she meant was that our path in life is set out for us and that everything happens for a reason. Her lined old face was adamant: humans had little or no choice when it came to destiny.

  Maybe she was right, Lydia pondered. Maybe I’m on course to happiness, but I just don’t know it yet.

  She just wished she could shake this apathy, this reluctance to feel. Sure, she loved her family and had no problem maintaining friendships. Yet, when it came to love, she was stumped. It felt like she was scarred and would never recover.

  She had loved him.

  She had been head-over-heels crazy in love with him.

  She had run away because she couldn’t handle the consequences. She had left him behind out of fear. Fear that they wouldn’t be happy when the gloss of the affair had worn out, fear that he would grow tired of her.

  She ached to see him. To hear his voice. To touch his skin.

  Miserably, she closed her eyes.

  She had no choice; she had to let it go.

  Chapter 11

  Spring descended on Paris like a welcome blanket of light, pulling the city from the darkness of winter. The temperature became milder, the sun began to shine and slowly but surely the streets came to life. Cafés put tables and chairs outside on the pavement and the trees became verdant and leafy. Parisians liked nothing better than drinking coffee and smoking al fresco, talking animatedly about politics and art. The waiters, decked out in their uniform of black and white, could be seen serving salads and drinks to customers, then placing dockets under ashtrays.

  Lydia cycled her bike through the traffic, humming as she negotiated the stationary cars on the street. It was the usual story: hundreds of cars were at a standstill. She noticed their envious looks as her journey was not impeded by delays. A woman in a Renault was plucking her eyebrows, making use of the time. Another man in a suit was eating an apple and lifting dumb bells, keeping in shape as he was trapped behind the wheel of his Range Rover.

  Lydia arrived at the restaurant in record time. Mathis had handed in his notice three weeks before and was now throwing himself into his course. This week the speciality was pâtisserie; his challenge was to master pastry. Sometimes he brought some of his creations home. Lydia could feel the effects of this on her waistline already.

  Their relationship was going well, mainly because he didn’t pressurise her. If they met up, it was fun. If she needed space, it was fine. He didn’t seem to mind. What she really liked about him was his ability to sense her mood. He knew when to disappear.

  She had given her notice to Claudine as well. It was time to go home. Her boss had been visibly upset – Lydia was one of her best waitresses. She had regulars who called in to see her. Good waiting staff were hard to replace. What would Pierre Milland do now without his ‘petite Leedia’ to serve him his fromage? Or Nicolas Perrotte? Only his favourite could look after him so well, filling up his carafe with ice-cold Rosé when it was low.

  Lydia understood that she would be missed, but going home was the obvious step. Sure, it meant admitting defeat – her grand flight to Paris had not turned out as successfully as she had envisioned – but she had to start somewhere. She had emailed Colin, asking him if there were any jobs going at his magazine. He replied saying that a ‘general dogsbody’ was needed: a skivvy to make coffee and run errands. She replied immediately, saying that she would definitely be interested.

  Maybe if she got her foot in the door, she could write some articles and get noticed. Options were few, but they were there. Slowly she began to see a path she could follow.

  Mathis had been wonderful. His face had fallen initially, but he knew it was madness to protest.

  Lydia had kissed his shoulder, but said nothing about the future. Would they see each other again? She didn’t know. She really liked him, but he had his course to finish. He loved it and was plainly a natural. But she couldn’t wait around for him forever. She had a good feeling about her return to Cork. It gave her a sense of purpose.

  ‘Salut!’ she announced, entering the kitchen.

  ‘Ma chérie,’ said Jean, the new chef. ‘Thank God you are ’ere. Deux poulets to go.’

  Back to reality, she thought with a sigh.

  ‘Hey, that’s London, look!’

  Laura pointed out the tiny window of the airplane at the rows and rows of houses and busy roads. Lydia hugged herself in delight. She had been looking forward to this weekend for ages. It was her last hurrah before the big move home.

  ‘So, it’s mainly dress-shopping then, is it?’ asked Laura, flicking through Hello! magazine. ‘We should try Harvey Nics, oh, and John Lewis.’

  ‘I’m the only bridesmaid,’ Lydia informed her as the plane started to make its descent. ‘Sam wants me to wear cream, like Pippa Middleton.’

  ‘Will you bend over and show the world your arse, then?’

  She giggled. ‘No, you’ll be spared that spectacle, believe me.’

  Her ears popped as the plane descended. Stuffing her iPad into her bag, she rested her head back against the chair. Colin was flying over for the weekend as well. He was determined to be involved and was convinced that his professional opinion was crucial to the dress-picking experience.

  ‘How could Sam even dream of trying one on without my eagle eye?’ he’d said.

  Samantha didn’t care either way, so he had booked his flight immediately. He loved weekends like this which included drinks, good food and his greatest love of all: shopping.

  As if reading her thoughts, Laura spoke. ‘Colin is coming, isn’t he?’

  Lydia nodded. ‘With bells on. He has been researching designers online for the last month. He thinks he has the perfect dress already.’

  ‘I can’t see Sam being railroaded into anything.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ agreed Lydia. ‘Still, he’ll be very entertaining. Nobody can party like our Colin.’

  Their taxi pulled up outside a small hotel in Marylebone. Even though Laura’s family lived in Surrey and she could have stayed with them, she didn’t want the hassle of getting home late at night. She also didn’t want to miss a thing.

  ‘The others are staying here, am I right?’ Her blonde ponytail swung from side to side.

  ‘Yeah, they should have booked in this morning.’

  The receptionist smiled. ‘May I be of assistance?’

  ‘Hi! We have a twin room booked under Kelly?’

  She frowned as she activated the computer screen. ‘Ah, yes. Lydia Kelly. Would you mind filling out this form?’

  Minutes later, they were unpacking their clothes.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ Laura lined up her cosmetics carefully on the dressing table.

  ‘Dinner and drinks tonight, I think. Then shopping tomorrow, followed by a posh dinner in some French place.’

  ‘Sam must feel quite pressurised,’ reflected Laura. ‘I mean, what if nothing suits her?’

  ‘Then we have to do it all over again,’ said Lydia, with a frown. ‘Sarah, my sister, got her dress in Harrods. She was spoilt for choice in the end. I’ve a good feeling that we will be successful.’ She pulled her hair up into a knot at the nape of her neck. ‘Plus, Colin will not rest until he finds something.’

  ‘With any luck.’

  Lydia laid a purple dress out on the bed. She had bought it especially for this weekend. It was knee-length, with a scooped neckline and an empire waist. It flowed out elegantly when she walked; she loved it.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Laura, holding up a black velvet midi-dress with lace sleeves.

  ‘That’s really beautiful,’ said Lydia genuinely. ‘We’ll be gorgeous.’

  ‘Sam!’ Lydia ran into her friend’s arms. ‘You look so lovely
!’

  They hugged fiercely.

  ‘I can’t believe this weekend is finally here! It’s all I’ve been thinking about.’ Samantha’s face was radiant.

  ‘Where’s Mum and Molly?’ asked Lydia, looking around the restaurant. ‘They texted me earlier saying that they’d meet us here.’

  ‘Probably with my mother; they popped down to Selfridge’s to get something.’

  As if on cue, the rest of the party arrived.

  ‘Lyd!’ Molly catapulted herself at her older sister. ‘I can’t believe you’re coming home! Mum told me.’

  ‘I know, I can’t wait.’ Lydia kissed her little sister on the forehead. ‘I’ll be back to keep an eye on you.’

  ‘Hi, darling!’ said Helen Kelly, pulling Lydia into her arms. ‘You’re looking wonderful.’

  Lydia clung to her mother for a moment. Being away from home made her appreciate everything. How she missed her mother’s hugs, her familiar smell, her softness.

  ‘Right, let’s order some wine, girls.’ Sandra beckoned to the waiter. ‘We must celebrate this happy occasion.’

  ‘Where’s Colin?’ asked Lydia, looking around. ‘It’s not like him to be late.’