Springtime in Paris always used to be my favourite time of year, but it's slowly been replaced by Spring in London or at least it had been. It's April and the Cherry blossoms are in full bloom in the Kyoto Garden in Holland Park, something I had been looking forward to since the engagement, and yet I sit at a curb side patisserie in Paris surrounded by tourists waiting for my client to arrive so we could discuss decorating his new apartment.
I had postponed my trip to London by two weeks and I could hear the relief in Logans voice as I told him. She was in town, he told me about their "impromptu Lunch" during our weekly phone call and how his father had seen them, now, no doubt he was planning how to cram more time with her; the petit brunette who cast such a huge shadow over my relationship.
He has, of course, spoken about her in passing; when we first started seeing each other we spoke of our past relationships in depth, how the ghosts of old loves haunted us both – No, I was not immune to love, I had done so extremely deeply too; we spoke too of our fears but ultimately our hopes for our future, as we made plans to travel, introduce our lives to each other, start building our family ("Why not get a dog Dee, it will be fun"…. Of course the answer was no but still). I fiddle with the ring on my left hand, I had been so happy when that cold December evening he got down on one knee in the snow and asked me to be his wife. We'd called the families in the morning, him phoning America ahead of us flying out, me calling my mother and father while they skied in Val 'd Isere. It had seemed so perfect then, preparing for Christmas in New York, planning on where we'd live after we got married. It soon changed once he met with her; it was by chance he said, a fluke; they were in the same hotel for something or other and had drinks to catch up over old times… she had a boyfriend and I could trust him. I put it out of my mind until the day I saw them saying goodbye outside of the Dorchester Hotel and since then I've been keeping it close to my chest.
I sigh and glance up to see my client crossing over from the metro station. Signalling the waitress I order him a coffee, I know exactly how he takes it; as well as one for myself and a slice of gateaux... Logan had to tell me about the lunch. How could he not? I was going to find out anyway from my client. He smiled at me and leaned over to kiss both cheeks Parisian style " Mitcham! welcome back to Paris, now tell me all about the new apartment in London, I can't wait to decorate it". I may be the other woman, but I am well connected.