Blake nodded, even though she knew that she’d do the same thing all over again if faced with the same decision. She’d fallen hard for Henri, and the fact that he’d thought she’d used him to become close to his mother had horrified her.
‘Would you like to join us for dinner tonight?’ Céline asked, as she picked up the samples of fabric on the low table and indicated for Blake to sit with her. ‘And before you make an excuse, my son would love you to come. He’s talked of little else since you left.’
‘Well, then, I’d love to.’
‘Good. Now tell me what you see when you look at this fabric. Hold it up to the light and imagine the dress it could become.’
Blake did as she was told, and immediately she could see it. A flutter touched her stomach, and for the first time in a very long while, she suddenly ached to put pencil to paper and sketch.
‘I can see something from your capsule wardrobe,’ she said. ‘It’s perfect.’
And as Céline began to speak again, her eyes coming to life as she pushed fabrics around and showed her the designs onpaper, Blake had the notion that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
It wasn’t until Henri returned with their coffees and slid into the seat beside her that she even looked up.
‘You two make a good team,’ he said.
‘She has very good taste,’ his mother said, taking her coffee and inhaling it as if her life depended on it, much as Henri had the first time Blake had met him.
Henri seemed unfazed by the fact that his mother’s gaze was on them, because he immediately turned to her, stroking Blake’s hair and leaning in for a kiss. It was only a warm, momentary press of their lips together, but it was enough to make Blake wish that they were alone.
‘I think she has very, very good taste,’ he whispered, which made them all laugh.
‘Leave us, Henri,’ Céline said. ‘We can enjoy one another’s company later, but for now, we work.’
Blake loved working. Even when she’d been younger and money had been tight, she’d always found joy and pleasure in her job. But the day she’d just had with Céline had been like nothing she’d ever experienced before; it was as if her childhood dream had just come true.
‘I think Blake is a natural fit at Toussaint,’ Céline said, as they joined Henri and his stepfather Benoit at a restaurant near the office.
Both men stood, and as Céline went to Benoit, Blake went to Henri. She half expected him to kiss her lips in greeting, but instead he touched his palm to her waist and gave her a very slow kiss on each cheek, lingering on the last one. Blake caught herbottom lip between her teeth to stop from smiling, but it didn’t work.
‘Ahh, Blake,’ Benoit said, pushing his son out of the way and giving Blake a warm kiss to each cheek. ‘I heard you were back in Paris. Now our Henri can stop behaving like a sad puppy dog.’
They all laughed, even Henri, who was holding out a seat at the table for her.
‘Thank you,’ Blake said, as she sat, and she was pleased when he took the seat right beside hers.
‘We ordered champagne,’ Benoit said. ‘Blake, we are celebrating in your honour.’
She happily took the glass passed to her, clinking with the other three people at the table before taking a grateful sip.
‘You are staying with Henri?’ Benoit asked.
Blake glanced quickly at Henri, who looked as interested in the question as his stepfather was. ‘I actually checked into a hotel when I arrived. I wasn’t sure if Henri?—’
‘Mon dieu,’ Benoit muttered, reaching over and giving his son a pretend slap around the back of the head. ‘A beautiful woman like this returns to Paris, and you let her stay in a hotel?’
‘In fairness, I didn’t tell Henri I was coming.’
She exchanged glances with Céline, who seemed to be finding the conversation rather entertaining, given that she already knew the particulars of Blake’s situation. They’d had plenty of time to catch up earlier in the day, after all.
‘How about we discuss how fabulous Blake is to work with?’ Céline said, clearly sensing how uncomfortable she was with all the talk about where she was staying and why. ‘I am very happy she has decided to return.’
‘As am I,’ Henri said, giving his stepfather a frustrated yet comical expression before turning to her and taking her hand.
‘Now tell me, Blake, what makes you love fashion? Why does my wife think you’re so clever, when she has young women tripping over themselves to work with her?’
‘I think,’ Blake said, taking a little sip of her champagne as she considered her answer, ‘I think it’s because I’m not wanting to be part of the fashion world so that I can be an influencer, or use it as a stepping stone to something else. When I was a girl, designing was my only creative outlet, the one thing I had just for me, and I want to rediscover that feeling again and immerse myself in it.’
