Page 46 of Holiday Romance
I glance up at his words. “Me too. I’m sorry we missed the Dublin flight.”
“Not your fault. And this is a good plan. I’m impressed.”
“This is nothing,” I dismiss. “Just wait until I’ve had a coffee.”
He cracks a smile. It’s a small one, but I’m counting it as a win. “Was that a subtle hint, Miss Kinsella?”
“Cream. No sugar.”
He sighs exaggeratedly but gets to his feet. “Anything for my travel agent,” he says, and I try not to look too pleased as I turn back to my laptop and start booking us in.
CHAPTER TEN
It takes another thirty minutes to sort the tickets and keep our various families updated on our new plan. Andrew’s seem grateful. Mine just seem baffled that I’m going to so much effort. But at least his cousin is happy to put us up for the night, responding within a few minutes of Andrew’s text that he was polishing the china as we speak.
From the look on Andrew’s face, I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
It’s only when everything’s sorted that I begin to realize what being without my suitcase actually means. I’m not used to looking like I currently look. The corporate world demands a certain groomed appearance and, seeing as it’s one of the few things in my job I am in complete control of, I take it seriously. So while I have no problem dressing comfortably for a long flight, there’s only so many times a girl can turn her underwear inside out.
“I need to buy some clothes.”
“In Paris?” Andrew makes a face. “They’re not exactly known for their fashion sense.”
“Cute,” I deadpan, but I’m secretly glad he’s perked up. The coffee helped, and we both get another espresso before leaving his very-much-not-lost suitcase in luggage storage before risking a venture into the city. It does feel a little like tempting fate, but there’s five hours to go before we need to be back for our flight and neither of us want to spend another second more than we need to in an airport.
A brief consultation with my good friend Google and we get the RER train to Les Halles, an underground shopping mall near the Seine, where I head to the first decent store I see to grab a pair of jeans and a couple of plain T-shirts and sweaters.
Andrew is not impressed.
“It’s literally two days before Christmas,” he says, trailing me around the racks. “And that’s what you want to wear.”
“Yes, because I’m an adult.”
“An adult who said she didn’t want to be a grinch,” he presses. “That means embracing the meaning of Christmas.”
“The meaning of Christmas is not a T-shirt saying, ‘Pull my cracker.’”
“No, it’s family and friends. And as a friend, I would really appreciate it if you embraced a bit of glamour.” He plucks a pair of snowmen earrings off a display, holding them up to me. “These for example.”
“No.”
“I think they’d go really— Oh my God, they light up.”
I roll my eyes as they start to flash in his hands and head to the counter, moving quickly at the thought of getting out of these clothes. The salesperson lets me do so in the changing room and I breathe a sigh of relief as I pull a fresh T-shirt over my head. I spend another minute arguing with myself before I take a quick detour back through the store and then leave to find Andrew waiting outside with a shopping bag in his hand.
“Tell me you didn’t buy them,” I say suspiciously.
“For my sister,” he explains, glancing down at my outfit. “Feel better?”
“Hugely,” I admit. “Though that could be the magic of the season coursing through my veins.”
“Come again?”
I part my coat to reveal my last-minute purchase and Andrew’s eyes widen at my new gold-and-black-striped sweater.Joyeux Noel, it says in slanted writing, decorated with an appropriate amount of glitter.
“Look at you, Cindy Lou Who.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “I can’t believe you went to such a minimal effort for me.”
“Minimal? This is a big step! The glitter is itchy.”
