The only noise to be heard the next morning was Jacob's quiet snoring, and the infrequent "cheep" of a bird from somewhere outside the window. Connie was already awake, and lying on her side as she toyed with the idea of waking him. She decided against it, preferring to watch him asleep for a couple more minutes before easing herself from the bed and beginning to dress. She would go out to get breakfast, and no doubt she would return and he would still be asleep.
Unbeknownst to her, she was being watched, her movements having caused Jacob to stir and open one eye, watching with a half smile as she fastened her bra, sitting down with her back to him on her side of the bed, in navy pyjama shorts. It occurred to her then that she did not, in fact, know where she was going and that seeing as she would be waking him up anyway for directions, she may as well get him figuring out the fancy coffee machine in their room. Caffeine withdrawal was definitely setting in, heat or no heat.
She turned around, his eye quickly closing and feigning sleep, and she reached to the side of her for the glass of water she had placed there on the bedside table. Picking it up in her right hand, she knelt back on the bed, sitting on her heels as she leant slightly over him and tilted the glass. The first small drop caused no disturbance whatsoever, so with a smile she angled it more determinedly, gasping as at least three quarters of the contents poured out and over him. He sat up straight, spluttering and cursing, but when he saw her sat next to him and the tell tale, almost empty glass held in her hand, his features quickly relaxed despite maintaining his best, although incomparable to her own, hard stare.
"And good morning kisses wouldn't do, because?"
When she gave no reply, struggling to internalise her laughter, he inched forwards a little, taking the glass from her and placing it back onto the table, peeling away the dripping sheets. When he turned back, he paused for a moment, looking at her before swiftly lunging forward to grasp hold of her, wrestling them both off the bed to standing. She fought against him, but to no avail, as he merely chuckled and pushed them across the room and through the door to the bathroom.
"Jacob, no... no... Jacob!" She tried to twist around as he backed her into the shower, her hands balled between them. He turned it on, his arms still wrapped tightly around her as she gasped; the water freezing cold and quickly drenching them both. As the initial shock began to pass and thoughts began to form more coherently, he quickly pressed his lips to hers to silence her inevitable shrieks, her arms eventually finding their way to his neck with her eyes squeezed firmly shut. He grinned, letting one hand divert from her waist to the dial, switching the water off in one quick motion before detaching himself from her completely, laughing as he left her half clothed and dripping, shouting back to her from the room that she should shower again, properly this time, and he would be back with breakfast.
...
"You're very quiet." He squeezed her hand gently as they walked up the Rue de Rivoli, the high, elegant gates to the Tuileries Gardens on their left. Both of them had agreed to spend the later part of the afternoon shopping, much to Connie's delight, for she had initially been wary of introducing the idea. Her idea of shopping and his were remarkably different.
He looked down to the woman beside him, tilting his head in an attempt to garner a response.
"I'm just…" She paused, casting a quick glance upwards before shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. I'm just thinking."
"Right." He tried to hide a smile as they continued walking, knowing that if he gave her a few more moments of silence, it would likely all spill out in a tumble of thoughts and words.
"I don't mean to sound presumptuous. But it would make more sense, I mean, you can use the garage if you needed and I can get rid of the bikes, it's not like I ever use them. I just thought that it would be easier, considering there's no mortgage and we spend most of the time there anyway-"
"Hey, hey, woah. Slow down." He stopped them on the path, leading them to the edge by the gates, in the shade. She stood in front of him, and looked down at where he held her hands in his. "You don't half pick your moments, do you, sweet cheeks?"
She smiled shyly, before shaking her hair free from her shoulders and swallowing, nervously. It wasn't as if this was something she was remotely accustomed to saying. She'd never brought up this conversation with anyone, her and Michael had bought a house together years ago now, which she had stayed in after their divorce. When she came back to Holby from Switzerland, more than two years ago now, she'd bought this one and she was perfectly content to stay there. In truth, she'd been considering this conversation for weeks, and was now partly relieved at the appearance of her outburst, despite the frankly odd timing of it.
"You want me to move in with you?" He spoke gently, keeping his voice level despite the creeping happiness that began to warm him. He could feel a smile lifting his cheeks, and when she recognised this, she began to smile more too, biting her lip before answering him.
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"Come here." He used his arms to pull her against him, before slipping one hand from hers to rest against the small of her back, lowering his head to press his lips to hers. He could feel her smiling, and he pulled back to look at her, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. "Of course I will."
He did feel a little… Not uncertain, or nervous as such. Perhaps it was a vague guilt, knowing that he had made very little contribution to the home itself. She had worked for all of this, her career was something she had built alone, and made an admirable success of. To this day, his only contribution to the upkeep of her house was the regular replenishment of foodstuffs, including her somewhat worryingly penchant for green olives. He tried to settle this to one side, knowing that she was right and it did make more sense. He would never have expected her to agree to move in with him, yet there was also little point in him paying the money he did for a house in which he barely passed any time in anymore.
"Oh, but hang on. The garage?"
He took her hands back in his, watching as momentary confusion passed over face.
"Hm?"
"You said something about me using the garage?"
At this, her expression moved seamlessly into one of composed nonchalance. "I'm not having a gym in the house, muscles. It's a compromise."
He laughed, bringing her to his chest and resting his head above hers, before pulling back to place a kiss on her forehead.
"Right, come on then you. Lead on."
Fifteen minutes or so later, she motioned for them to turn right, pointedly ignoring his raised eyebrow. She presumed that he thought they would head to the Champs-Élysées, and they would, but there was somewhere else she wanted to go first. They passed the Palais de L'Élysée, and continued for a little while longer until she saw the black awning she had been looking out for.
"No." He saw the lettering, and stopped them. His expression was however unable to match his stern tone. He couldn't help but smile.
"Come on!" She tugged at his arm, unsuccessfully.
"This isn't going to be a twenty minutes, in and out job, is it?" He lifted her chin affectionately, before pressing the tip of his nose to hers in an eskimo kiss. "Don't answer that…" He then added, thinking to himself that in actual fact, this could all work out quite well.
Very well.
"Okay, well how about I give you an hour…" He trailed off as he watched her raise an eyebrow. "… and a half. Then I'll come back here, and we can continue on. How does that sound?"
"Perfect." She reached up to kiss him once more, before adjusting her bag and turning to go through into the shop. He watched her through the window for a minute, he saw how she looked perfectly in place, a shoe which he could have sworn was near enough identical to a pair she wore religiously at work, poised in her hand as she inspected it. As if she knew she was being watched, she glanced out of the window, her smile widening as he exaggerated a sigh and rolled his eyes at her before turning to head back the way they had come.
…
"Come on then, let me guess. They're black, red-soled and patented." Jacob winked at her as he led her down the slope to the Seine, the night now darkened and infused with chatter and laughter, the lights from the bridges and lampposts glinting in the water that lapped at the edges of the walled stone path below.
"Actually, they're suede."
He chuckled in response, and as they neared the bottom of the slope he scanned the stone edge for a space for the two of them. The river was a hugely popular destination for late evening picnics, but the crowds weren't an unpleasant feature. The small groups gathered and talked for as far as the eye could see, and it was beautiful.
He noticed her pause beside him, somewhat mesmerised. He smiled, before nudging her side slightly and gesturing for them to continue walking, until they found they found a space several metres along from one of the many ornate bridges that connected to the Île de la Cité.
"So, are you going to tell me-"
She stopped, when from the new bag he had been carrying since he had met her outside the Louboutin store earlier, he produced a blanket, and laid it down in front of them. He then placed the bag down to the side of it, and took hers from her, before gesturing for them to sit down. She did so, and watched as he spread before them wine, glasses, bread and olives, fruit and a bag of chocolate coated madeleines.
"Does that answer your persistent questioning?"
She looked directly at him, her expression soft and illuminated by the subtle orange light of the lamppost behind them.
"I supposed it does..." She didn't break his gaze as she leaned across the blanket to kiss him, smiling before dipping her head to pull back, reaching her hand into the pot of olives and popping one quickly into her mouth.
...
Some time later, they finished, and Jacob dutifully began to pack away the empty pots and packets to take back to the hotel. When he turned back around, he almost dropped the glass and bottle he had been holding, his intention to ask her whether she wanted to finish the wine momentarily abandoned. Her knees were brought up to near her chest, one arm slung loosely about her shins she lit a cigarette to the side of her, sheltering the unsteady flame of the lighter from the slight breeze. He watched her until she had succeeded, seemingly unaware of her being the subject of his pointed gaze.
"You were doing so well. I knew there had to be something, some fatal flaw."
She turned to him then, brushing her hair from her face with one hand.
"It's not a habit, you know it isn't. Just an occasional occurrence."
"I don't get why. Horrible things."
She smiled, placing the cigarette between her lips and turning back to face the river.
"Oh, shush. When one is in Paris, one can indulge herself."
"One would also think that she would know better."
"Mm. But when did knowing better ever stop anyone..." She murmured, before turning to look at him, her eyes dark and her hair blowing gently about her face. She seemed a little far away, in reverie; but then again that could be quite simply as a result of the inordinate amount of wine which she had consumed.
Eventually, she stubbed out the cigarette on the warm ground next to the blanket, shifting to take her near empty glass and so that she could sit closer to him. Inwardly, she loved how she no longer needed to search within herself for a way to justify the somewhat unfamiliar desire to be emotionally, as well as physically, close to another. She smiled to herself, quite blissfully content.
"You know, we've been sleeping together for a longer amount of time now, in the time that we've known each other, than we've not been. How lovely is that?"
"Very lovely, Little Miss Drunk. I'm also very glad to know that you must have spent a considerable amount of time thinking about us sleeping together in order to work that out, in your current state."
"Mmm." That was all she supplied, bringing the glass to her lips once more and finishing the last dregs of wine in there. He took it from her hand then, placing it down gently to the side of him. She sighed, flicking her hair behind her back before placing her hands to stretch out behind her, back arched, her head tilted to the sky. She stayed like that for a minute or so, her eyes closed; but a content smile gracing her features, the darkening light emphasising her jaw, her cheekbones, her hair just catching in the light offered by the dim orange lampposts that lined the far edge of the wall behind them. When she felt his hand cover one of hers, she slowly brought her head back straight, eyes opening and her cheek nestling into her shoulder as she turned slightly to see him. She glanced once to his lips, flicking her eyes briefly up to his and biting gently down on her own lower lip, breaking into a smile as he leaned over to lower her back to the floor, her legs still folded in their butterfly like position. He didn't kiss her, but guided her arms to rest above her head on the blanket, and gently twisted her hair around in his fingers. It smelt faintly of smoke, but it wasn't unpleasant. On her, it was quite the contrary.
"I love you."
Her eyes fluttered shut, and he saw her mouth twitch before she opened them, raising one hand to curl her fingers in his hair.
"I love you too."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead before lying down next to her, bringing his arms around her as he pulled her to his side, dropping kisses into her hair until her eyes shut again, and she was sleeping.