I Heart Paris by Kelk Lindsey

Author:Kelk, Lindsey [Kelk, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2010-07-08T04:00:00+00:00

‘So, does it feel different?’ I asked later as we walked through the streets eating ice creams. It was still warm and Alex paused to lick an escaping trickle from the back of my hand.

‘Does what feel different?’ he asked, going back to his own cone and swinging my arm happily. The second bottle of red and the champagne I ordered while he was in the bathroom seemed to have loosened him up.

‘Being thirty,’ I explained. ‘Do you feel different?’

‘Nope,’ he replied quickly. ‘How’s that ice cream?’

‘It’s not a good enough liar to distract me that easily,’ I came back just as quick. ‘You must feel a bit different, surely.’

‘I don’t think so,’ he said, pulling me down a narrow cobbled street lined on either side with small shops filled with bright fabrics. ‘Do I look different?’

I took a big lick of my ice cream and stopped to look at him. Same shiny black hair, short and ruffled in the back, one chunk always slightly stuck up from where he’d been running his hand through it all day. Long and shiny in the front, parted slightly to the left so one side fell just below his eyebrow, fluttering in front of his eyes, a bright and vivid green. They looked a little tired, but it was late and I was guessing that spending half the night in an armchair wasn’t conducive to clear eyes. A few laughter lines reminded me that, despite the last few days, he spent a lot more time smiling than he did brooding and sulking. The other side of his hair fell longer, past his high cheekbone, highlighting the contrast between his black hair and pale skin. His lips were just as full and red as ever. As they stretched into a small smile, I could see that they were stained with the red wine we’d been drinking.

‘So, do I look old to you?’ he asked again.

I shook my head and reached up on tiptoes to kiss him, ignoring the ice cream that was melting all over my fingers. ‘You look OK.’

‘Well, thank God for that. Come on.’

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, my heart skipping along faster than I could in my borrowed Louboutins and tossing my messy almost empty cone into a bin while Alex munched his.

‘You wanted to see Paris.’ He pointed up a set of steep steps. ‘So let’s go see Paris.’

I looked upwards and saw a beautiful church with a gorgeous domed roof. ‘Sacré-Coeur?’ I asked, channelling my inner Rough Guide.

‘Sacré-Coeur,’ Alex confirmed. ‘Can you take the stairs in those shoes?’

‘I love that you know me well enough to ask,’ I said, looking down at the pretty instruments of punishment I’d buckled to my feet. ‘And I love that I am comfortable enough with you to say no, no I cannot.’

‘Come on,’ Alex laughed, pulling me towards a little tram-looking thing. ‘We don’t have long until they close up.’

Once we’d run the gauntlet of men trying to sell us plastic Eiffel

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