A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,149

she wiped her mouth with her napkin. ‘The recipe is supposed to be with rabbit but, with the petting zoo barn, we didn’t think it was appropriate.’

‘We,’ Ethan said. ‘You are sounding like someone who is invested in the future of the hotels.’

‘Oh,’ Keeley said. ‘Well, I really meant Silvie and Louis. They have been making all the decisions. She asked me… Silvie asked me to continue with what you started and…’

‘Keeley,’ Ethan whispered. ‘Why are you seeming to censor everything you say?’

‘I’m not. I…’ She paused and took a sip of her red wine before her eyes met his again. ‘Tell me what you were going to say before the food arrived.’

Ethan put down his knife and fork and wiped his lips with his napkin. He sighed, holding her gaze and drinking her in. She was so beautiful, so gentle, just the thought of her made him smile a hundred times a day…

‘I want to say that I am sorry,’ Ethan finally said. ‘I was a coward. A complete coward. I should have come to meet you at Passage Jouffroy. I should have kept my head and faced you but…’

‘But?’ Keeley asked.

‘But… the noise was too loud.’ He swallowed.

Why had he said that? It straightaway brought back every bad experience he had ever had. All the darkest memories from the orphanage and the loss he felt after Ferne.

‘It means, in my head, everything was suddenly too much all at once. It was a cymbal… and a bass drum and… a high-pitched trumpet playing complicated jazz. And I did not know how to make it stop. Not at first.’

‘I understand,’ Keeley responded.

‘No,’ Ethan said. ‘Do not understand. Do not be nice to me. I do not deserve it. I was stupid to hide away. I mean… I am twenty-eight years old. There is only so much hiding away from life you can do before it becomes more about how long you have before you die rather than embracing the living part.’

*

Keeley empathised absolutely. ‘I know.’

She completely knew in relation to how her own life had been going and because of Bea and Erica.

‘My friend Erica… the one we took a photo for…’ Keeley started.

‘I remember,’ Ethan said. ‘We got my best side.’

She forced a smile. ‘Well… she passed away.’ A knot of despair caught in her throat and it was taking everything not to let the tears drop.

‘Oh, Keeley.’

She picked up her napkin at the very same moment he reached for her hand. She dabbed at her eyes and he retracted.

‘We… knew it was going to happen. We met in the hospital during her treatment after all, but it just brings it home that… no one knows what’s around the corner. Erica didn’t. I didn’t with my accident and losing Bea.’ She took another breath. ‘And neither did Ferne.’

Keeley watched Ethan look to the wood-burning stove then get to his feet. ‘I think the fire requires another log.’

‘It doesn’t,’ Keeley told him. ‘Not yet.’

He stopped still, right by her chair now.

‘Ethan, I’m only alive now because of Ferne and I can’t apologise for that.’

‘I know,’ he answered. ‘And, of course, why should you? As I have said, it is I who should be apologising.’

‘I have to take tablets every day for the rest of my life,’ Keeley continued. ‘I have to check in with doctors all the time. I have to watch what I eat and drink and I should be exercising far more than I am. There is no guarantee that Ferne’s kidney is going to be with me forever.’ She sighed. ‘There is going to come a time when I am going to need another transplant, maybe two. And each one is going to come at an enormous risk. Close matches aren’t easy to find. My mum can’t donate and my dad wasn’t the best match so, if things got bad… the outcome might be quite different a second time around.’

‘What are you trying to tell me?’ Ethan asked, his eyes meeting hers.

‘I’m trying to say that my life isn’t as straightforward as it could be for you… with someone else.’

‘Keeley,’ he whispered. ‘I—’

‘No, don’t say anything else yet. Let me finish.’ She got to her feet too, moving over the matting to the gorgeous, thick and fluffy rug she had sourced for the room. Slipping off her shoes, she buried her stockinged feet into its depth, the heat from the stove warming right the way through her body. ‘I have been tip-toeing though. Partly because my mother