The coast is, therefore, clear. On my way, I tap.
I’ll see you here. Their croissants are the best in Paris. An address pings in too and, once again, I let Google Maps steer me to the right street.
Mason is already waiting inside the busy café when I get there. As I make my way towards him, he stands and fusses with his napkin. His face is the very picture of concern.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine,’ I say, taking the seat on the other side of the table. ‘I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d do a little bit of sightseeing. The Eiffel Tower is very beautiful at dawn.’ I sound forced and too cheerful.
He orders me coffee, which I’m grateful for. I bury my nose in the menu so I don’t have to look at him. I’m not feeling in the slightest bit hungry even though it feels as if rather a lot has happened since my chocolate mousse at dinner.
‘About last night.’ He lowers his voice as he speaks, though I don’t think anyone else here is paying us any attention. ‘You’re OK about it?’
‘Fine,’ I bluster. ‘God, yes. Fine.’ I don’t really want to talk about it at all. The less said about it the better in my book.
‘I was concerned when I woke up and you were gone.’
I probably should be glad that he even noticed. ‘Hangover,’ I say with a tinkling laugh. Which is, of course, absolutely the truth. ‘Needed some fresh air.’
‘I thought you might find it fun,’ he adds. ‘A bit of naughtiness away from anyone who knows us.’
It just highlights that Mason really doesn’t know who I am and, to be honest, it makes me consider if I know myself. I thought I could be modern, liberated, enjoy a bit of X-rated sex with a new man, but I don’t think this is for me. I’d rather be in Paris with someone who loves me, wants to be with me – and only me. This trip could have been so very different.
‘It’s not really your thing, is it?’ Mason says.
‘No,’ I admit. ‘I kind of like it the usual way.’
He laughs at that. ‘I’m sorry, Ruby. It won’t happen again. Will you forgive me?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ I tell him. And I sort of mean it. ‘I went along with it.’
‘It’s not something I do often. Just when I’m in Paris. Valerie’s a nice girl,’ he offers when I don’t reply. ‘There’ll be no awkwardness.’
I wonder why, if he thinks she’s a nice girl, he brings other women for their playtime? Why doesn’t he just come here to see her? Why drag someone else in the equation? But I don’t ask any of these questions. What Mason does is his own business. As long as he doesn’t involve me again.
‘She’s not working today,’ he adds. ‘Not at the hotel.’
Then the penny drops. Perhaps it’s a business arrangement between them? Does he pay her for services rendered or does she do it for free, for the fun? I can’t bring myself to ask him that either.
Instead, I try to quell the lurching feeling in my stomach by ordering Eggs Benedict and some freshly squeezed orange juice. I figure that some extra vitamin C will get me back on track again. While I wait, I pick at the basket of butter croissants that Mason has previously requested.
‘We can do whatever you like today,’ Mason says.
He’s trying so hard to be nice, but both he knows and I know that a line has been crossed. All I have to do is get through today then I can run back home and be boring Ruby Brown instead of trying to be someone I’m not.
‘There’s a flea market in Montmartre, if that’s your kind of thing,’ he continues. ‘Or we can take a trip in a bateau up the Seine. It’s up to you.’ His hand covers mine when he says, ‘I’m at your service, Ruby. I want you to have a good time.’
One that involves just the two of us, I gather from that. His concern is touching and I feel my disappointment recede. When Mason is like this, he’s good company and the silly mistakes of last night start to fade away.
Taking a deep breath, I reason that there’s no cause for this to continue to be difficult. We’re both grown-ups. What happened, happened. I was a willing – if slightly inebriated – participant. I could have said no and didn’t. I blame my own insecurities for agreeing to do it. I can’t change what’s happened, but I can simply brush it under the carpet, think of it as a life experience that I hadn’t necessarily anticipated and set about enjoying what’s left of the day. That perks me up considerably and, with a renewed lift to my spirits, I say, ‘A boat would be nice.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
So we finish our brunch but, by the time we do, the rain has swept in once more and high winds are batting over the pavement tables and chairs, sending the staff scurrying out to retrieve them. Instantly, the pavements turn to rivers and the gutters are ankle-deep with water.
‘We might as well stay put and have another coffee,’ Mason says. ‘Paris in the rain is appalling.’
I’ll have to take his word for it. Though I’m up for Paris in any weather. I’m more than a little disappointed as I was hoping to get out and about today.
‘We could go to the Louvre?’
‘The world and his wife will be there,’ Mason dismisses my suggestion. ‘It will be hell.’
‘Any other museums?’
‘Yes, but not really my bag.’
‘I suppose the boat’s out of the question?’
He shrugs to indicate his lack of enthusiasm for the joys of the Seine dans la pluie. I think that’s right – it’s a long time since the French language and I were associated. ‘You won’t see Paris at its best.’
I won’t see Paris at all at this rate, but I say nothing. I could go off on my own to explore, but that seems unfair. Mason has funded everything so far and I feel in his debt. It hardly seems right to leave him by himself and head out. So I’ll do what he wants to do. Plus, it’s still pouring down heavens hard and I have no umbrella. Or rain jacket. Or suitable footwear. In my attempt to pack light, I did not pack for all climatic occasions. I thought Paris would be hot and sunny. I thought I’d be strolling round all day under a cloudless sky. I was wrong on both counts.
‘We could get a bottle of wine,’ I suggest when all other options seem to be off limits. My hangover has just about abated enough to cope with more alcoholic input. ‘Stay put for a while. Maybe the rain will pass.’
‘A decent red sounds very appealing,’ he agrees.
So while Mason orders us a decent red, I abandon any plans or hopes I had to see Paris in any kind of weather and settle in, trying to content myself with absorbing the atmosphere in this very traditional café. Perhaps I should just be happy to enjoy this time with Mason and get to know him better – or at least in a way that doesn’t involve his gentleman’s playthings. We had a nice dinner last night and I could try to recapture some of that mood.