‘You think my life is straightforward?’ Ethan asked, stepping away from her and heading to the basket of logs.
‘No, of course not,’ she answered. ‘I didn’t say it was.’
‘I have a child living with me, Keeley. Me! Ethan Bouchard… has a child!’ He quickly opened up the stove and threw another log into the flames. ‘You know, people, they have sex without contraception and they ask themselves what happened when pregnancy occurs. Me, I find a girl taking chocolate from a Christmas tree and she moves in… with her dog! I do not even know her real name or how old she is! Am I completely mad?’
‘Yes,’ Keeley answered. ‘But not when it comes to Jeanne.’
‘Am I even the right person to be guiding her?’
‘Ethan, she has been living on the streets for a reason. I suspect not just because there is no one else, but because she has never met anyone else who immediately cared like you did.’
Ethan turned around to face her, brushing his hands together. ‘I barely know how to look after myself. Two days ago I ate something from the back of the fridge I could not even distinguish.’
‘But you’ve been making meals for Jeanne and leaving them in boxes with her name on,’ Keeley replied.
Ethan sighed. ‘She told you that?’
‘She has been worried about you. She cares about you almost as much as she cares for Bo-Bo.’
‘I am surprised she has any care left the amount she gives to that chien.’ He shook his head. ‘I do not know what the future holds. I have never really known. Some of the very first things I do remember involve not knowing if I was going to survive the day. When you have felt like that it is hard to start doing any kind of planning but…’
‘But?’
He sighed. ‘Ma crevette.’
It was that name again. The name of the person Ethan had talked about before. Who was she?
‘Ferne,’ he said. ‘I called her “my shrimp”. I have never known anyone be able to eat shrimp like she did.’
Keeley closed her eyes and shook her head. So much misunderstanding had gone on from the very beginning. But there was one thing she really needed to know if they were going to try to resolve things.
‘I… care about you, Ethan,’ she admitted. ‘I haven’t ever felt for anyone what I feel for you.’ She swallowed, feeling exposed by that admission. ‘But I know how my connection with Ferne might have made you feel.’
‘Keeley…’
‘No, I know it feels weird and it is weird I suppose. But I need to know that, when you look at me now, you still see the woman you met outside the hotel who chased a penguin down the street with you. That I’m still to you the woman who went running in her dad’s darts jumper and whispered to an almost-dying dog, who somehow rose again, and laughed at the clowns at the circus and played very bad petanque and—’
The rest of her words never made it past her lips as her mouth was captured by Ethan’s in a kiss that pulled her off her feet and into his embrace. It was as passionate as it was magical and it left her in no doubt that he had listened to every word she’d said. When Ethan broke off Keeley was out of breath and he was looking at her, gazing in wonder as if she were something precious that might evaporate if he took his eyes away.
‘I only see you, Keeley,’ he told her. ‘I promise, I will always only see you.’ He ran a thumb gently down her cheek to the curve of her lips. ‘You are my “comfortable”.’
This time it was Keeley who joined their lips together again. And as they kissed, she knew, whatever life had in store for them, she was going to be all in. Every time.
Sixty-Eight
L’Hotel Paris Parfait, Tour Eiffel, Paris
Christmas Day
‘The children are touching everything!’
‘Antoine, the children are meant to be touching everything. The touching is making their experience,’ Rach said. She nudged him with her elbow. ‘Touching always makes my experience.’ She kissed the concierge in the kind of way that wasn’t necessarily appropriate for a dining room full of street children.
‘Rach, could you hand out some more crackers?’ Keeley asked, presenting her friend with another box full. ‘If you can leave Antoine alone for five minutes?’
‘Just five minutes,’ Rach said pinching Antoine’s bum. ‘No longer.’ She took the box, turning around to blow her boyfriend a kiss on the way to the main table.
Keeley watched the children eating for all they were worth, some blowing up long sausage-shaped balloons and watching them fly around this dining area in the lobby she had constructed and decorated. There were fifty children, maybe more, the invitation to attend Perfect Paris on Christmas Day to be given a hot festive meal and a room for the night being passed by word of mouth, starting with Jeanne and the places she used to hang out. This year and every year after, it was going to be Christmas Day for everyone that needed it, as well as everyone who had paid for it. Seeing the delight in the children’s faces now, Keeley could tell one meal, one day and night out of their normal lives, was going to mean everything.
‘Juice, Keeley. They are going through juice like oranges are about to become a rarity. And one of them called Michael Bublé, Michael Booby! Sacrilege.’
Keeley smiled at her mum. Yes, Lizzie and Duncan were here for Christmas. A few FaceTime calls, an introduction to Silvie, Louis and Ethan and the Andrews had decided if Keeley was going to be staying in France for the festive season then they were going to make the journey too. And, Silvie and Lizzie had quite the sisterhood going, brought on by a conversation about all the recipes they had tried to make that hadn’t quite gone to plan. Louis was still trying to beat Duncan at darts… What happened when the New Year arrived hadn’t been decided yet, but Keeley had a feeling Rach might be more than open to looking for an apartment to share in Paris as opposed to London. In fact, Rach had already ‘popped in to’ a few Parisian estate agents to ‘get a feel for the market’. Plus she had already mooted the idea of starting up a bespoke property search service with the help of the connections of the Bradburys she might be able to run alongside any other job with the hope it would take off.
And, as for Keeley, she had a position here if she wanted it, making over all the Perfect Paris hotels. It would be helping Ethan, putting money in the bank and it would also be excellent for her interior design portfolio whether her business ended up being based in England or France.
‘I’ll get some more,’ Keeley said, taking the jug from Lizzie’s hands.
‘Well,’ Lizzie whispered, ‘don’t you have… you know… staff to do that for you?’ She sniffed. ‘I’ve never been to a hotel where the interior designer had to fetch drinks for guests.’
‘The staff are all in the main restaurant serving the paying customers,’ Keeley reminded her mum. ‘This is for the children and… I want to do it.’ She smiled at her mum. ‘Ethan was one of these children once. And it was only through the kindness of others that his life changed. Maybe what we’re doing today will change someone’s life.’
‘Oh, Keeley,’ Lizzie said, her voice sounding a little teary. ‘Bea would have loved this, wouldn’t she?’