‘I think that is not your decision to make,’ Jeanne said. ‘I think this is up to Keeley.’
‘She won’t answer me! I have called. I have sent messages. What else can I do?’ Ethan threw his arms in the air and a pigeon took flight from the pavement, soaring through the driving snow and up into the sky.
‘Give her some space?’ Jeanne suggested. ‘At least do not behave like a mad clown.’
‘I am not a mad clown,’ Ethan insisted, in a way only a mad clown would.
‘Then stop acting like it,’ Jeanne said, ending her sentence with a finger point.
‘I am… confused and… concerned and…’ He didn’t quite know what to say next so he stopped talking altogether.
‘You are in love with her.’
‘No!’ Ethan said all too forcefully. ‘No, of course not.’ He felt like he was betraying his own soul by the vehemence he was showing now, but what was the alternative? Admit the opposite. That he was in some sort of… love? He was shaking his head at himself now.
‘You are in love with her,’ Jeanne repeated.
Ethan growled in frustration, clenching his fists together as Jeanne finally stopped circling around him. Maybe he had said too much too soon. He had asked her to help him make his hotels into the kind of ‘comfortable’ she had talked so passionately about. After their night together he had thought they had shared themselves completely. Except there was that large scar on her belly she had laughed off when he had asked her about it… Fear was in complete control of his reactions now. What if there was something wrong with her? What if she was sick?
‘I have to see her,’ Ethan said, powerwalking towards the hotel. ‘Not crazy or angry, perhaps not cool either but… I have to see her.’
‘Wait!’ Jeanne called. ‘Do not ask anyone for a key card! Ethan!’
Sixty-Nine
The Durand House, Neuilly-sur-Seine, Paris
Keeley was still shaking like the branch of a Christmas tree being attacked by a cat as she sat on a two-seater chaise longue by the fire in Silvie’s living room. She was nursing an elegant cup and saucer that was mainly filled with coffee, but had also been liberally splashed with brandy that came from a decanter that looked like it could star alongside Fiona Bruce.
‘Keeley,’ Silvie said, padding closer to her, another blanket in her arms. ‘You are still cold?’
Keeley shook her head. She wasn’t cold, she was grieving. She was mourning the loss of the first relationship with a man she’d had that had any real value to it. Something so unexpected. Something that had happened so quickly yet snowballed and snowballed until it had meant the world. Tears slipped from her eyes, one of them dropping into the dark coffee.
‘Keeley, tell me,’ Silvie begged. ‘Tell me what has happened to make you this way.’
Keeley sniffed, turning her head a little to face the French woman. An employee had opened the door to Keeley’s ringing on the doorbell as the taxi drove out of the Durands’ gate. Her face red from tears and her hair covered in snow, she had stood by the giant Christmas tree, the weather dripping off her boots and pooling on the tiles. Silvie had appeared on the stairs dressed in a full-length light pink silk dressing gown, kitten-heeled slippers on her feet, two large plastic curlers in her hair that she was taking out as she regarded her. And Keeley hadn’t said anything. She had just kept on silently crying, shoulders quivering, emotion seeping out of her until Silvie had ushered her inside, stripping her of her coat.
‘Keeley,’ Silvie breathed. ‘Please. I am worried for you. Have you been… attacked? Are you hurt? Where is Rach?’
‘No,’ Keeley breathed. She looked at the coffee cup, wondering whether to drink some of the liquid or to put it on the antique-looking table next to her. ‘And Rach… is OK.’
Keeley hadn’t gone back to their hotel. She had hailed a taxi and come straight here looking for answers she hadn’t had the strength to ask anyone the questions for yet. She needed to try and distance herself from her feelings for Ethan for a moment and quieten the roar of her heart to get to the truth.
‘Then what can I do?’ Silvie asked her, eyes full of deep concern. ‘Please, Keeley, tell me what I can do.’
Keeley reached for her hand then, drawing the woman closer until Silvie dropped down into the seat next to her. The blanket fell out of the woman’s arms and hit the floor.
Keeley took one of the biggest breaths she had ever taken, feeling the air fill her entire body, and her eyes drifted then to a photograph on the mantle. Ferne. She let out a sigh, really concentrating, trying to look into the heart of the woman who had given her the ultimate gift. Had Ferne loved Ethan too? Was that what she was going to hear from Silvie when she dared to ask? How could that happen? How could fate allow that to happen?
‘Keeley, you are worrying me,’ Silvie spoke then. ‘Are you ill? Do you need me to call a doctor?’
‘No,’ Keeley said straightaway. ‘It’s… not like that.’ She gave Silvie’s hand a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry,’ she breathed. ‘For turning up here and, well, for… turning up here.’
‘Keeley, you can come here any time. It is my wish to spend as much time with you as you are willing to give me. I have not pushed things because, well, we both know it is a difficult situation and I really would not wish for you to feel uncomfortable.’
‘I don’t,’ Keeley reassured, nodding. ‘I really don’t.’ She swallowed. ‘At first, perhaps, because I was nervous, I felt a little overwhelmed. But, getting to know you, it has been so nice and you are so nice. And I feel like I know Ferne so much better now.’
She felt Silvie squeeze her hand back and it only made her want to start crying again. Except, if she wanted answers she needed to hold it together. ‘But what I need for you to tell me about now is… someone else.’
‘Someone else?’ Silvie asked, frown lines arriving on her forehead.
Keeley nodded. ‘I… want you to tell me about…’ This was so hard. Because as much as she wanted to know, there was still a big part of her that didn’t want this to be the case. She swallowed. ‘I want you to tell me about… Ethan Bouchard.’
‘Ethan?’ Silvie asked, now looking even more confused.
Keeley nodded. ‘You know him, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Silvie began. ‘Of course. I was hoping so much to introduce you to each other. I invited him to dinner here and to our lunch today, but he said he was busy with something for the hotels.’ She sighed. ‘And losing Ferne was as hard for Ethan as it was for the rest of the family. And, to be honest, I think that he was a little overwhelmed about the prospect of meeting someone with that kind of… tie to Ferne.’
Keeley squeezed her lips together and closed her eyes for a second, all her worst fears being rapidly realised. She hadn’t got this wrong. Ethan was connected to Ferne. His hotels and the Perfect Paris hotels were one and the same. She should have seen it before. The moment they had first met chasing Pepe – it was right outside her hotel – Perfect Paris Eiffel Tower. Why hadn’t she asked the right questions from the outset? Why had it taken until now to know?