Page 1 of The Paris Chapter

1

I weaved through the passengers, my suitcase squeaking as I walked towards the waiting Eurostar train, wondering why I had let my best friend Carly talk me into this.

I had only made the final decision to come this morning, so I hoped I’d remembered to pack everything I needed. After leaving without it, I had rushed back to my flat to grab my passport, but I had made it and before I could chicken out, I climbed onto the train and found my seat, stowing my case nearby.

As I collapsed into the seat, I had a moment of thinking that what I was doing was a stupid idea and would never work in a million years. I wondered if it was too late to get off the train and run back home, but then the doors closed.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. As we moved away from St Pancras towards Paris, all I could do was hope that this trip would be the healing balm I desperately needed it to be. Because my career, and all future happiness, depended on it.

No pressure or anything, Paris.

I hadn’t been to Paris before and never expected to be going there solo today. I rested my head against the back of the seatwith a sigh. The conversation I’d had with Carly two days ago flashed back through my mind.

‘The Airbnb emailed me to remind me of my booking,’ I had said to her on the phone. ‘The romantic trip to Paris that Joe got me for Christmas. Except he asked me to book it as he was waiting for a new credit card,’ I added, bitterness tinging my voice. ‘Now, of course, I know it was because he didn’t want Rachel to see the booking and find out about me.’ I couldn’t believe that only two months ago I’d had no idea about her; I’d thought me and Joe were madly in love. Turns out, he had been cheating on me for the whole of our six-month relationship with a woman he worked with called Rachel.

‘The utter bastard,’ Carly replied, her voice spitting venom through the phone.

‘Yep,’ I agreed, but I couldn’t be as enthusiastic. My initial rage had dulled to sadness and bitterness. ‘I completely forgot about the trip with everything that happened.’ I paused before delivering the worst part of it all. ‘It’s non-refundable.’

‘It sucks to lose the money but it would suck more if Joe was still in your life,’ Carly replied. ‘I still want to cut off his balls.’

I snorted despite my melancholy. I knew that feeling well. My imagination had run wild about how I could get revenge on my ex. That was the problem with being a writer. Your mind was always overthinking. But in reality, I’d never have the guts. ‘It’s just brought it all back, you know?’ I sighed and closed the email but then a worse one appeared in my eyeline. ‘Oh God, Gita has sent another one.’ My editor at my publishers, Turn the Pages, was increasingly getting panicky as I ignored her asking about how my new novel was coming along.

That makes two of us.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Pay back my advance?’ It was a flippant suggestion becauseI’d already spent most of it – first, on booking the aforementioned trip to Paris, and the rest on a deposit and the first few months’ rent on a new flat. An expense I certainly hadn’t been planning on. ‘How am I supposed to write a happy-ever-after romance after my boyfriend cheated on me? I don’t think I’ll ever believe in love again,’ I declared, dropping my head down dramatically onto my desk.

Carly tutted. ‘Look, Tessa, you picked a wrong-un, yes, but you believe in love. You always have. Remember when we were teenagers and you wore your mother’s wedding dress for our Halloween party? And what about your Pinterest board?’

I sighed. It was full of wedding inspo. ‘I can’t believe I thought Joe might actually propose on this trip to Paris.’

‘Well, you do have rose-tinted glasses on when it comes to boyfriends,’ Carly said softly. ‘But that’s why I love you. You are so optimistic.’

‘Not any more. I’ve learnt my lesson.’

‘I hate to hear you talking like that. You just haven’t found your person. If I can, so can you.’

‘You found him when we were fifteen; it’s not a fair comparison,’ I said, but I wasn’t bitter about that. Carly and her husband Luke had been at school with me and once they’d started dating, that had been it for the both of them. I don’t think either had even looked at someone else. Their love used to give me hope; now I just felt like I’d never find it.

‘It’s Tessa.’ Carly muffled the phone. ‘She’s okay…’

‘You can tell him,’ I called out. Luke knew pretty much everything in my life, like Carly. If I was honest, he was the only man, apart from my father, that I trusted now.

I could hear her telling Luke about the Paris reminder email and how it had sent me spiralling. ‘Okay, so Luke has an idea. I’m putting you on speaker…’

‘Tessa,’ Luke said, coming on the phone. ‘Why are you talking to Carly instead of packing?’

‘Huh?’ I said, confused.

‘Paris!’ Luke cried. ‘Why don’t you still go on your own?’

‘Oh my God! That’s genius,’ Carly said. ‘You should do that!’

‘No way,’ I replied firmly. ‘Walking around the City of Love by myself? Sounds depressing with a capital D.’

‘But you need to write your next book,’ Luke insisted. ‘Where else can you get that kind of inspiration?’

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