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‘With you it is different,’ she said. ‘Hardly ever do I see him this relaxed.’
‘That’s what you call relaxed?’ I joked, but I noticed my heart was beating high in my chest. Surely she wasn’t suggesting what I thought she was suggesting.
‘You know I have a boyfriend,’ I said, throwing it nonchalantly out there. I’d probably got the wrong end of the stick, anyway.
‘Yes. Léo told me,’ she said, taking a paper towel and dabbing at her face. ‘It is fine, with this boyfriend?’
I shrugged. ‘Sure.’
‘Léo seems very confident, non? Very sure of himself.’
‘You can say that again,’ I said.
‘But really he is very scared of getting hurt. And so he begins these relationships with women who are not right for him.’
My eyes flickered across to the reflection of Sylvie’s face in the mirror.
‘They are always very beautiful,’ she continued, ‘but they are not a challenge to him. They are happy for him to be the fun Léo we all see and love, and they do not care about anything more, what might be happening underneath. And after a few months I say to him: how is it going, Léo? And it is always over.’
I swallowed. ‘Why?’
‘He believes he can go through life on his own, that it is simpler that way. But I do not think this is true. We all need someone, non?’ she said, screwing the paper towel into a ball and dropping it into the bin.
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. ‘I think so, yeah.’
‘I do not think he would be like that with you,’ said Sylvie, re-applying her lipstick and then offering me some.
I took it gratefully, smearing some onto my lips with my thumb so that they had a sort of berry-coloured stain.
‘But of course, you have a boyfriend, so it does not matter,’ she said.
‘No,’ I said, bracing myself on the sink. ‘I don’t suppose it does.’
I brushed past Sylvie to open the door. ‘I should get back,’ I said.
‘Enjoy Montmartre, Hannah,’ she said, leaning closer to the mirror to apply mascara.
I walked out into the main bar, disoriented for a second, thrown by everything Sylvie had said. She was being dramatic, that was all. It wasn’t like she was a mind-reader: how would she have any idea what was going on in Léo’s head? After today, we’d never see each other again, so what did it matter how well we got on? He was good company; a bit of fun; an excellent interpreter when I needed him to be. And yet, I knew that at any point I could have gone back to the station, done what I was supposed to do. Put Si and his feelings first. Been the good girl, the good girlfriend. But had I been in denial all along? Did I like Léo more than I was letting on, even to myself? All day we’d been finding excuses to spend more time together, and part of that was about seeing Paris, of course it was. But it was seeing Paris with him that had made it so special. And it dawned on me that, for whatever reason, I didn’t want our day together to end.
‘Hannah!’ called Léo, waving me over to the bike.
I waved back, putting aside the revelation I’d just had. I liked Léo more than I should. And if that was the case, what did that mean for me and Si?
