Page 65 of The Edge of Always

I have another sip of wine. ‘How about you – how did you end up working for Médecins Sans Frontières?’ I ask, trying for a French accent but sounding stupid.

He shifts a little. We’ve been sitting on the floor for some time.

‘I specialised in emergency medicine and applied. It was pretty straightforward.’

Something tells me that the process is slightly more competitive than Emmett is making out. I’m rarely drawn to humble; I haven’t found it so attractive in the past. But none of my rules seem to apply when it comes to Emmett.

‘And that’s when you learned to speak French?’

‘Yep. It’s not, like, a requirement. But lots of the countries we work in have French as their first language, so it helps. I’m not fully fluent.’

‘You sound it.’

He shrugs. ‘It comes back, the more time I spend in Paris.’

I assumed that he’d arrived at the same time as me, to see the opening at MAM. ‘Haven’t you just arrived?’

He shakes his head, looking off into the pond where the stars are reflected on the now-still water.

‘I was here before. I’m between postings.’

‘Do you know where you’re going next?’ I ask.

‘There are a few options. I’m still weighing them up.’

I laugh, I don’t mean to, it just comes out.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘It’s just that you’re so calm here. So level-headed.’

‘Ah, yes, well that would be the antidepressants.’

I put down my cup. Balance it precariously on the grass.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘You didn’t. I offered the information. And you knew how I was, when we were younger. Therapy and antidepressants were an inevitability, I think.’

I don’t feel ready for this yet, for a little heart-to-heart about his traumatic childhood. Back then, I tried not to think about it. Now, it hurts too much. I say something inane about how I’m glad the medication helps.

‘It does, my head feels much clearer these days.’

‘That’s good. Really good, Emmett.’

And even though I wish things were different for me, for Emmett at least there’s hope. It’s everything I used to want for him.

I spend some time looking for other hotel rooms in the city but it’s stupidly short notice and so I agree to stay with Emmett. It a classic case of how things can feel so wrong yet so right at the same time.

There’s a breeze in the air by the time Emmett walks me back to my hotel. I promise myself, that even if I never see Emmett again, after this time in Paris, at least we’ll have had this evening. This evening has felt a lot like closure, and I’ve waited an awful long time for closure.

‘So I’ll see you outside MAM at eight tomorrow?’ he asks, even though we’ve already agreed this.

‘Yes, I’ll be there.’ I’ll be setting alarms and then back-up alarms to make sure I’m there. We’re standing on the street outside my hotel, spotlighted under a street light. He’s close and I think how often we stood like this before, and how easy it would be to reach up and kiss him. He wets his lips, his eyes focused on mine, maybe having the same thought.

But no, I’m not going there again. It wouldn’t be fair to me, or to him.

With hitherto untapped strength, when it comes to Emmett at least, I take a step back.