Romancing the SEAL: The Complete Box Set (SEAL Military Romance Series Book 4) by Abigail Austin

Author:Abigail Austin [Austin, Abigail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Military
Amazon: B01C64WX3Y
Published: 2016-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

For some reason the thought of going home to Paris did not seem so bad to Léonie once Ty was gone. She’d expected to leave him behind. Know that he was still there. But now, without him there, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay anyway. She would miss her work but she would find other important work to be done—with MSF or with another hospital in need of a hard working doctor.

All of the current staff was being moved, either home or to another facility depending on their involvement in the explosions. Those, like Léonie, who had been in the brunt of the violence, were required to take time away for psychological evaluation and rest, something Léonie would normally have resented. Now, out of the blue, she thought it might be nice to take a hot bath in her aunt’s home.

Léonie had an attic room that she’d picked out as her own when she’d moved in with her aunt. Her aunt owned a small Parisian duplex that Léonie had always loved since she was a child. It never changed. Her aunt worked too hard and too long to think about anything like decorating, and so the duplex kept the Moroccan rug that Marceline had picked up in Marrakesh on a medical aid trip. She still had the paintings of rotund women dancing around a feasting table that a girlfriend from college had made for her. There was the familiar smell of lavender in every closet and drawer, a pungent wind of brandy in the living room. The chimney still smoked no matter how many times Marceline had it cleaned and Léonie loved it all.

She would take a hot bath in the tub where the water took a good ten minutes to warm up. She would eat the pastries and baguette her aunt bought fresh from the boulangerie every day on her way to or from the hospital, depending on which shift she was working. Léonie would curl up in the small bed at the top of six stories, built in the early 1870’s.

The first leg of her flight was only four hours. She stepped out into the Istanbul airport and felt, for the first time in months, the inadequacy of her clothing. They’d been washed by hand over and over again and now they looked bleak and ill used in the unforgiving airport light. She checked her ticket for her next gate then slowly walked the busy walkways in the right direction. People marched along with a purpose that Léonie wished she felt. They were dressed in nice, clean clothes, tough nylon bags wheeling purposefully behind them.

The further she walked the more lost she felt. There was fast food, yogurt, coffee, sandwiches. Anything she wanted she could have. She stepped into a store where she spritzed on a dab of Chanel and savored the familiar smell.

In front of the mirror she hardly recognized herself. The lighting in her compartments in Afghanistan had been much gentler then the bright bulbs that illuminated her face in the Istanbul airport.

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