Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
This time he’s the one to take a beat before answering. “There isn’t a set time. It’s not like you’re waiting for a year to pass and then you know. You’ll know when it’s right. You’ll feel it in your gut.”
I feel in my gut that we’ll withstand a twelve-month long-distance relationship.
I feel in my gut that I’ve never been with anyone like her.
I feel in my gut that Ellie is it for me.
But I can’t force it if she doesn’t feel the same.
“It’s always felt very even with your mother. There have been periods of time when she’s been working longer hours or I’ve been deep in research—but over time, we balance each other out. One person isn’t being taken care of by the other—or maybe, we’re both being taken care of equally. Neither of us saw our careers as more important than the other. We were and we are a team. That’s important.”
“I don’t see my writing as more important than Ellie’s cooking.”
“Maybe she’s concerned that she’d start to see your writing as more important than her cookery.”
That was it.
All the pieces slotted together. At every turn, the answer was the same: it wasn’t me Ellie didn’t trust. It was herself.
It made more sense than Ellie being worried about me cheating—although I’m sure that’s true as well. But the overriding concern she has is about losing herself in another relationship. She doesn’t want to give up herself for someone else. Again.
I understand now, but does it change anything? How can I get her to trust herself?
The answer is obvious: I can’t. The only choices I have are to pull back and be her friend until she learns to trust herself on her own, or I can walk away completely and hope she comes back to me eventually.
I don’t like either option.
Thirty-One
Ellie
The cab pulls up in front of the modern six-story building in the fifteenth arrondissement that’s a twenty-minute walk to Le Cordon Bleu school. I insist on paying for the cab, and Zach and I get out and pause to take in the structure. From the size of the windows and the shape of the building, it’s clear that it’s trying to be sympathetic to the surrounding architecture. But it’s failing.
“It looks like a hostel,” Zach says.
I know I should have been firm and told Zach he couldn’t come to Paris to flat hunt with me, but he was so enthusiastic. Even though I know it’s a bad idea, I value his opinion and I love his company. And I’d really prefer not to do this on my own.
“It’s more modern than the others I’m looking at,” I say. “It’s good to have a contrast. And it’s close to the school.”
“But further from Gare du Nord,” Zach says.
I don’t remind him I won’t be commuting from London to my flat, but from my flat to the school.
“I don’t suppose that matters,” he says. “It’s not like St Pancreas to Paris takes long.” Zach’s being as subtle as a brick. He’s been very careful not to cross the line between friends and lovers in terms of physical contact, but it’s clear he hasn’t given up on us. Although I don’t want to give him false hope, it’s sort of nice to pretend it would be possible for a little while longer, even though I know it’s not. “It’s only twenty-three minutes longer than London to Manchester,” he says as if he’s talking to no one in particular.
Honestly, I’m surprised. I assumed that when I told him I was going to Paris for the year, he’d agree we have to go our separate ways. We’re so early on in our relationship, it would be much easier to quit while we’re ahead rather than try to force something. He’s agreed to be just friends, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he wants more.
“It’s a lot of traveling to come here and back in a day.”
“But not for a weekend,” he says.
A man in a shirt, jeans, and no tie approaches us. His hair is even floppier than Zach’s and he’s showing at least a week of stubble. “Ellie?” he calls out.
“Jean-Luc?”
“Oui, oui.”
We shake hands. I introduce him to Zach and Zach shakes his hand as he towers above him by almost a foot. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asks.
The flat is on the ground floor and it’s a little dark. The bedroom is so tiny that the small double bed is pushed against the wall and the kitchen is just two cabinets and a separate cooker. The curtains are a shade of blue you see in hospitals and there’s a two-seater red sofa. It’s not glamorous and it’s not big. It certainly doesn’t feel Parisian, whatever that means. But it’s clean, modern, and fully furnished. “It’s available from the first of January?”