‘Oui,I guess. But what about you, will you open your heart to Noah?’
‘Now you sound like a true heroine from a romance novel, Manon.’
‘Kill me.’
‘I will not.’
‘Stop avoiding the question.’
I let out a long sigh. ‘I like Noah. I did from the very first moment we met and then he spoke and the rage-fuelled me took over. But I was hurt and now I’m not. Things are clearer. I can look at him and not mentally write a scene where I strangle him.’
‘You mentally wrote that?’
‘Many times. Not just him. Any man.’
‘Heartbreak is intense, I’m guessing.’
‘Heartbreak and humiliation. What a combination. Noah is a good man and I have strong feelings for him, but we’ll have to see how it pans out.Isdating the neighbour such a good idea?’
Manon clutches her head as if she’s frustrated. ‘There you go, obsessing over things that are of no consequence.’
‘How can I not think ahead like that? What if…’
‘What if you stopped all the chatter in your overworked brain and listened to your heart? What does it say?’
‘My heart would say that, looking out at the sea of people all over the world, how lucky am I to have found a man like Noah? A man of substance. A man who will keep me on my toes. Who won’t agree with me just for the sake of it, but will still put my best interests first. Even when I tell him I don’t want him cleaning my windows.’
She grins. ‘He’s got a real thing about windows, hasn’t he?’
‘The man likes order in a disorderly world.’
‘Mon Dieu,there’s two of you.’
‘And then there’s you, who expects me to clean up in your wake.’
‘Oui,but I paint the high bits and the low bits, so that’s only fair.’
‘Touché.’
In my suite, I sit at my desk with the wobbly leg and stretch my fingers. I have fourteen more days until my manuscript is due and I vow to make it on time.
39
18 DECEMBER
The next day, I’m up late after a long evening writing. The words spilled out of me, almost as if the heroine was writing the story herself, and I was merely the conduit transcribing for her. That doesn’t happen very often, so I’m counting it as a win, as if the romance gods are on my side and want me to succeed after suffering a block that I thought I’d never recover from.
I make myself a coffee, smiling when I see Manon’s found some literary mugs. Half-asleep still, I follow a noise and find Manon behind the reception desk, hanging a string of fairy lights across the front that cascade down in pretty loops.
‘What’s this?’ A pretty Christmas gift box wrapped in silver ribbon sits on the counter. ‘Papillote Christmas chocolates. For you.’
My heart expands. There’s a whole story about how Papillote chocolates came to be. As it goes, in the city of Lyon in the late eighteenth century, there was a shy apprentice who loved a girl but didn’t have the courage to tell her. Instead, he pilfered some chocolate from theconfiseurand wrapped it in a love note to gift to the girl he hoped to make his sweetheart. The love-struck thief was caught by his boss, Mr Papillote, who thought the idea wasgenius, and so the Papillote Christmas chocolates were born, and they’re still popular today during the festive season.
‘When did Noah drop them off? I should thank him.’ It’s such a fitting gift after we’ve been surrounded by secret letters from the past.
Manon finishes tacking the last loop of Christmas lights. ‘I’m not sure if they’re from Noah. They were out the front when I opened the doors for the tradespeople. There’s a card under the box with your name on it.’
‘Merci.’
