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Christmas with Her Ex(34)

By:Fiona McArthur


She narrowed her eyes at that. Toyed with idea of saying, ‘No need, I’m covered,’ but decided against it. Let him tramp about Paris at six a.m. and find a pharmacy because she wasn’t feeling charitable about that one.

She climbed back into bed and pulled the second pillow over her head so she could hide. Didn’t hear the quiet knock as it came at her door. Or hear Connor walk away.

Oblivious, Kelsie was sternly analysing recent events. Did she regret that she’d seen and lost Connor again?

No, she couldn’t. She’d had the chance to say her piece. Explain a little and apologise for the past. Something she’d wanted to do for a long time.

Did she regret meeting his grandmother—the actual woman who had inspired her dream of travelling on the Orient Express? No way!

Was she unhappy she’d opened herself to Connor more than she had to any man? It had been special! She wasn’t believing anything else. So how could she regret that?

No regret in learning what amazing sex was, finally, despite the mortifying ending. No. And it wasn’t so humiliating when only she had known how much it had affected her.

Stern talking to completed, she shifted the pillow from her head and hugged it. Tried not to notice the faint scent of his cologne, breathed slowly in and out until her body reminded her it was very tired, but she couldn’t sleep. Eventually the clack of the rails lulled her and the next thing she knew it was dawn.

Or a slow increase of dawn. In the dim light as she peered through heavy eyes the window began to expose the houses, see the waking city on the outskirts of Paris, the flash of a waterway between houses and a tiny curved bridge reminiscent of Venice twenty hours ago.

With the dawn they rattled closer and closer to Paris and Kelsie washed her face, dressed and unsnapped her privacy catch as the train slowed for the pause on the outskirts before they rolled into the station. What would she give for a hot cup of tea?

There was a knock at the door and, magically, Wolfgang was there, looking sheepish, holding her dream tray with steaming water and an array of teabags.

‘I was told you wanted to see the young lady and her baby off the train.’ His cheeks reddened. ‘I wish also to apologise for my odd behaviour. I do appreciate all your help last night.’

‘Wolfgang. You darling. You were fine. And thank you for this.’ She took the tray and then hesitated, hadn’t been going to ask but couldn’t help herself. ‘Is Dr Black going to see Anna off as well?’

‘I believe Dr Black has already seen them, madam.’

How had she missed that commotion through the thin walls? ‘Oh. Then I will too, as soon as I’ve had this.’

Stepping back onto the train after seeing Anna and tiny Josef tucked into a taxi outside the station, Kelsie felt at least one family was happy.

They’d headed off at Anna’s boyfriend’s insistence for the hospital to be thoroughly checked out before he took them home to his flat. Though she did wonder what the Venetian grandparents were going to say about their new grandchild’s unexpected arrival.

Anna’s compartment door was shut and no doubt Wolfgang was planning a huge spring clean. The thought made her smile, which was a good thing considering the fact that Connor had run far and fast as soon as he’d dropped her little package in her compartment while she’d been gone.

She picked it up, curled her lip and tossed it in the tiny waste receptacle. She hoped he’d had the devil’s own time finding it.

Her own little bed had been packed up and the seat had been returned to the daytime configuration. She decided the least she could do was enjoy the rest of her trip. She needed to remember that was why she was here.

Breakfast arrived and Wolfgang placed the flower-decorated tray on her tiny table in front of the window.

The train still sat in the Paris station awaiting clearance. Above her head cars and pedestrians streamed past in the peak-hour traffic, and the world went on turning while she waited in solitary splendour in her compartment.

She glanced down at the food. Fruit salad, pastries and rolls, wonderful jams to choose from, deliciously evil curled balls of French butter, and freshly squeezed juice. Far too much for one person—especially one who didn’t appreciate them. She resisted the urge to push it all away crossly as she thought about Connor and her inability to understand him.

She picked at the food as she watched the passers-by scurry along the streets of Paris from her stationary train carriage, watched the buses fly over the overpass, and thought that soon she would be one of those hurrying off to work herself.

When she was back in the real world. The world she’d worked so hard to create for herself.