The Little Bookshop On The Seine. Rebecca Raisin

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СКАЧАТЬ I’m tired of being the same person, half-living, all this waiting for something to happen…I have to make it happen.” The more I tried to convince her, the more I believed it myself.

      The only sound was the tick of the clock on the wall, one that had been there since I was a skinny five-year-old. Eventually she said, “Is this because of Ridge? You feel like you have to go chase your dreams somewhere else? Following in his footsteps?”

      I held in an exasperated sigh. “It’s not that I’m mimicking his life, or wanting to change my values set on his. I want to experience somewhere other than Ashford. Just for a little while.”

      She took a deep breath. “Well, OK. But I’m going to worry about you until you’re back on home soil.”

      “Try not to worry.” I gave her hand a reassuring pat. “Try and be happy for me.”

      With an unsteady smile she said, “I am, darling. It’s just Paris is so far away, and flooded with people. I’ve seen the TV shows, I know there’s crime. Bag snatching, people smuggling, have you seen the movie Taken? I’m sure that was set in Paris…”

      I hid a smile. Ashford was so small, no one was brave enough to commit any crimes. Here and there, a teenager would shoplift, and that was about it. The rest of the world seemed so fast, so downright hazardous to the quieter folk in our small town. “Mom, I’m not going to worry about being snatched off the street, or any of the million things that could happen. I’ll be careful, OK?”

      Falling into bed, the night before I was to leave, I dialed Ridge.

      “Baby,” his voice was soft with sleep. “We keep missing each other.”

      “It’s our thing. Where are you?” I pulled the comforter up, and curled onto my side, wishing he was here, with his arms wrapped around me, his body pressed against mine. I closed my eyes against the empty feeling.

      “At some sad little hotel at the airport. The empty spot on the mattress beside me a reminder how far away I am from you.”

      I hugged a pillow to my chest, no matter how much I tried to cuddle it during the night, the pillow was just a cold and aloof stand-in, until Ridge returned and held me tight. “And you’ll be even farther away soon.”

      He sighed. “Yep. I fly out in a few hours. As always, when I’m in the quiet away from you, I wonder what I’m doing…is it worth it? Doesn’t feel like it.”

      I smiled, sleepily. “What can I say? It’s your job, and you love it. You’d get bored staying in one spot too long.”

      “I don’t think I would, Sarah. I’d have you.”

      It was a sweet notion, and my heart swelled, but Ridge thrived on the adventure of his job. The unknown of what he’d find. If he stayed in Ashford for any length of time, I’m sure he’d get itchy feet, and yearn to travel once more. His job suited him, he was as dynamic as his stories.

      “You’ll see me soon,” I said. “Hopefully you can get your story wrapped in a week.”

      A groan traveled down the line. “I hope so. That’ll be almost a month I haven’t seen you, the longest yet.” He continued, “Sorry I didn’t call last night. I had to sub a story, and it was woefully late when I got back. I didn’t want to wake you.”

      “You should have, I like hearing your voice, and then I would have closed my eyes and dreamed of you.” Without any more preamble, I said, “Ridge, Sophie and I are doing a bookshop exchange. I’m going to Paris! Tomorrow…”

      I heard the bed creak, he must have sat up abruptly. “What?” The word came out short and sharp.

      Probably a lot for him to take in at a quarter to midnight. “Yes, it’s sudden, and unlike me, but spontaneity is good, right?” That’s what I kept trying to tell myself at any rate. Maybe it was a characteristic that could be learned.

      “Sarah…you’re leaving tomorrow? And you’re telling me now?”

      I frowned. “Well, I’ve been trying to call you…”

      “Sorry,” he said with a groan. “It’s just a shock. Your bookshop…you said you’d never leave it. I’ve asked you so many times to join me on an assignment and you’ve always said no.”

      “That’s different, Ridge. You’re working, and dashing here and there. I’d be in your way. Besides we always said we’d go to Paris one day, and this is our chance. I trust Sophie with my bookshop, she knows how I feel about it better than anyone because she feels the same about hers.”

      His voice softened. “Of course. I’m a jerk…you took me by surprise, that’s all. Let’s start this conversation again. You’re leaving tomorrow. And what…you take over Sophie’s shop as soon as you get there?”

      Outside, stars twinkled in the blue-black night. “That’s the plan. I’ll leave a list of instructions for Sophie. Missy’s going to drive me to the airport, and I’ll get on my first ever plane!” I felt like a child on Christmas Eve. Without the anchor of my friends, my town, who would I be?

      He blew out a breath. “How can you…ah…do you need…”

      I smiled. It was always awkward when we discussed money. Ridge, ever the hero, wanted to help out when I had financial woes, but I wouldn’t allow it. “Sophie is paying me a small wage, because she claims her shop will be so busy, there won’t be a minute for me to rest, let alone read. In return, she will treat her visit to Ashford like a holiday, and enjoy the deadly quiet that is my bookshop these days. She will live at my place, and drive my car, and vice versa.”

      “So, after Indonesia, I’ll join you there?” The question in his voice took me by surprise.

      I rolled onto my back, and ran a hand through my hair. “Of course! We’re going to stroll to the Arc de Triomphe. Meander through the Louvre. Read in the Luxembourg Gardens…” There was so much to see and do in the short time Ridge would be there, and I knew our desire to be wrapped around each other would take over. But part of me delighted in the fact that I’d have months to meander through Paris, and discover who I was when I was out of my comfort zone. It was all at once thrilling, and scary, in an electrifying way.

      He let out a guttural moan. “You, me, and a bottle of Cote De Rhone. In the birthplace of French panties.”

      I giggled at the lusty hint in his voice. “And French kissing.”

      He gasped. “How am I going to wait so long to see you? Remind me again why I’m in some fusty hotel a million miles away from you?”

      I laughed. “Because you’re a workaholic. As much as I love reading you love writing, so what can I say?” What a pair we made. When Ridge worked, head bent over his laptop, I snuggled next to him on the sofa, happy to read the day away, content in being close to him, the silence a comfort as we both did what we loved best.

      I’d had sporadic relationships in the past, where the guys in question didn’t understand my voracious need to read. Some called it a waste, or said I lived in a perpetual daydream. Others that my bookworm state made me almost catatonic. The clamor of the death knell rang out loud and clear in my mind when they’d talked like that and I’d sworn off men unless I found a guy who loved me for who I was, foibles and all.

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