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Itwas a quarter past ten now.Itwould take him roughly twenty minutes to get to theGareduNord.He’dworry about what happened next when he arrived.
Johnsonemerged from the guest bathroom, wiping a towel over his face.
‘I’mnever drinking again,’ he moaned. ‘You’rea bad influence.’
Gabrielrolled his eyes.Theywere both as bad as each other. ‘I’mheading out.Makeyourself at home.’
‘Whereare you going?’
Alreadyhalfway out the door,Gabrielcalled out, ‘TostopJessfrom leaving!’Thedoor clicked closed.Hepushed the button and waited for the lift.
Hewasn’t a praying man.He’dseen too much death and destruction and evil in the world to believe in any benevolent higher power.Buthe prayed now.God, please let me get there on time.Don’tlet her leave.
Jesssatin a coffee shop at theGareduNord, letting her cappuccino grow cold.Throughthe window, she stared at the bustle of people either rushing into the station to catch their trains or rushing out to catch a taxi.Determinedpigeons navigated the assault course of legs, searching for crumbs.Jesshardly saw any of it.
Krishhad bought them first-class tickets for theEurostar, which meant she didn’t have to head through security until twenty minutes before departure.Itwas currently 10:30.Peoplein the cafe existed around her, chatting, checking their phones, and working on laptops.Jesswas there among them, but absent at the same time.Sheknew she should go, but just couldn’t seem to get out of her seat, like she was waiting for something.Orsomeone.Shesighed.Withthe amount of alcoholGabrielandJohnsondrank last night, they’d probably be passed out all morning.Sheremembered that he had an important meeting with his agent this afternoon and hoped he wouldn’t miss it.
It’snot your problem anymore,Jess.
Thewords ‘it’s nothing’rang in her ears.Didhe really mean that?Orwas he just trying to protect himself from admitting he had feelings for her?Eitherway, she hated that they hadn’t said goodbye properly.Eventhough she’d left a note, it felt like she still needed closure.
Funnythat she’d never put his mobile number in her phone.Ifshe had, then she’d probably have texted him by now, which made her glad that she didn’t have it.Hehad hers.Hecould call her when he was ready.Ifhe was ever ready.Itfelt old school, almost romantic that she didn’t have it.
‘We’llalways haveParis,’ she thought, remembering the scene inCasablancawhereRickbids farewell toIlsaat the airport.Nomobile phones there.Justthe conviction of their memories.That’swhat she’d take away with her.
Arogue tear slipped down her cheek.
Jesshadn’t slept a wink last night—hoping thatGabrielmight come to find her, worrying thatJohnsonmight barge into the flat (even though she’d reinforced the lock from the inside).Whenher alarm went off at 8AM, it took all her willpower not to go upstairs and kiss him one more time.Butthe words ‘It’snothing’ kept her away, plus he would probably be in no fit state for an emotional farewell.She’drather leave with her memories of him intact, just likeRickandIlsa.
Lastnight had been tough.Shesaw yet another side ofGabriel, which scared her slightly.Betweenthe accident,Johnson’sarrival, and her leaving, it was a perfect storm.Toomuch for him to handle.Nowonder he spent so much time doing calm things: tending his plants and hisJapanesepottery and listening to classical music.
Thememory of her introduction toBeethovenmomentarily overwhelmed her and she squeezed her thighs together to prolong the sensations.Itpassed.Justlike these feelings would pass.Asshe realised on the helicopter ride, life went on.She’dsurvive.
Unlikeher past relationships, for once she was the one doing the leaving, but it didn’t feel as empowering as she’d imagined it would.Itfelt like shit.Thiswasn’t how she wanted to end things, but what choice did she have?Evenwith her rose-tinted glasses on, the message had been clear:Gabrielwas not ready for a relationship.Regardlessof whether he was the right guy, it wasn’t the right time.
Itmade her realise something about herself, too: she wasn’t ready either.Onlya week had passed sinceKrishbroke up withher.Eventhough she believed her feelings forGabrielwere genuine, part of her was still mourning for the relationship that had just ended.Itwouldn’t be fair to either her orGabrielto rush into anything right now.Sheneeded to be alone for a while and learn to trust her instincts again.Eventually, she’d heal and be ready to move forward—if not withGabriel, with somebody else.
Herheart clenched at the idea, making her breath catch.
Shelooked at the time on her watch. 10:35.Witha last longing look through the window, she gathered her things and made her way to theEurostarterminal.
Gabrieltried againwith the jobsworth manning the ticket scanners.
‘Please,Ihave to find somebody before she leaves forLondon.CanIgo through for a couple of minutes?’Hesmiled his friendliest smile—not a natural facial expression for him.
Theshort man twiddled one end of his handlebar moustache and said, ‘Doyou have a ticket?’
‘No.’
Withexaggerated regret on his unimpressed face, he tsked and said, ‘Noun-ticketed passengers beyond this point.’
Gabrielput one hand on his waist and one hand on his pounding forehead. ‘Yousaid that already.’
‘Well, you obviously didn’t hear me the first time.’Theman checked someone else’s ticket and answered her question before helping her pass through the booths.
Gabrieldecided to open up to this stranger in one last attempt to melt his cold, cold heart. ‘Please…haven’t you ever regretted letting someone go?Ifshe gets on that train,I’llregret it for the rest of my life.’
Theman’s gaze turned soft, like he was remembering theOneThatGotAway. ‘Yes…her name wasBeatrice.Andshe made the bestboeuf bourguignonnorth ofBurgundy…’
