Luca was awoken unusually early the following morning by a soft insisting voice.
"Luca, wake up."
He blinked blearily from his position and saw Claire looking down at him in mild distress and mortification. It took him a while to realise he had fallen asleep on her lower legs.
"Sorry."
She shuffled back till she hit the bed-frame, allowing him some room to move, and pulled the covers tighter around her. Meanwhile, he stretched himself out, leaning his back against the other end of the bed-frame as he massaged the throbbing pain that came with alcohol-fuelled sleeps. As the headache started to ebb away, he glanced at the clock by the bed. It was six in the morning.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, I did."
The shadows under her eyes told him otherwise.
"That's good," he ran a hand along his hair and watched her move to hug her arms around her bent legs, "Look, I apologise for last night. I was… drunk."
The excuse was poor but it was not his habit to divulge his love life.
"I'm sorry too. You won't tell him, will you?"
"I think it's best for us to not."
She gave him a small smile and he felt relieved to have the discussion over, although this was far from over.
"Do you mind? I would like to change."
"Alright."
He got off the bed and knocked something onto the floor next to his feet. Noticing the ink drawing from the previous night, he stiffened for a moment before he bent down to pick it up as casually as he could. As he straightened himself, he looked at her.
If she had seen it, she was trying her best to look unaffected as she stood in front of him. She brushed some imaginary lint off the blanket she had fashioned into a temporary robe before walking over to the couch to retrieve her dress.
"I'll be in the bathroom."
After a quiet breakfast, they did not meet again for the next three weeks until it was time for the next instalment.
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The Lambert Rose Garden was a privately-owned garden situated in the midst of the Lambert flower estate. Situated along an almost flat valley, it had been inducted as part of Paris’s heritage in the last decade and the heiress was more than happy to close off a section of the garden for the afternoon.
"The garden is absolutely beautiful."
Claire suddenly started a conversation to his surprise, after ten minutes of clicking from her tan laced biker boots and the bumping of his two-tier trolley against the bricked pavement. He glanced at her from the side briefly before replying, "The flowers just started blooming a few days ago."
She hummed in response. Suddenly, he spotted the rose bushes with a narrow stream snaking along the artificially constructed bank from afar and led them towards the location.
"Right there." He pointed at the spot across the pavement they were standing on. She took one look at the river, then back at him.
"I don't really like roses. And, why couldn't we have walked in the other direction? How am I going to cross the river in my shoes?"
As she complained, Luca took off his shoes, followed by his socks. He briefly recalled the conversation he had with Rafael a few weeks back.
"She's definitely seeing someone." The blonde man mumbled all of a sudden and Luca felt something close to irritation flare.
