Back The Closer You Get Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for The Girl I Used to Be
  3. ALSO BY MARY TORJUSSEN
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. Ruby
  7. Ruby
  8. Ruby
  9. Ruby
  10. Ruby
  11. Ruby
  12. Ruby
  13. Ruby
  14. Ruby
  15. Ruby
  16. Ruby
  17. Ruby
  18. Ruby
  19. Ruby
  20. Ruby
  21. Ruby
  22. Ruby
  23. Ruby
  24. Ruby
  25. Ruby
  26. Ruby
  27. Emma
  28. Emma
  29. Emma
  30. Emma
  31. Emma
  32. Eighteen months earlier
  33. Ruby
  34. Emma
  35. Emma
  36. Emma
  37. Emma
  38. Emma
  39. Emma
  40. Ruby
  41. Ruby
  42. Ruby
  43. Ruby
  44. Emma
  45. Ruby
  46. Ruby
  47. Ruby
  48. Ruby
  49. Ruby
  50. Ruby
  51. Emma
  52. Emma
  53. Emma
  54. Emma
  55. Ruby
  56. Ruby
  57. Ruby
  58. Ruby
  59. Ruby
  60. Emma
  61. Emma
  62. Ruby
  63. Ruby
  64. Ruby
  65. Ruby
  66. Ruby
  67. Ruby
  68. Emma
  69. Emma
  70. Ruby
  71. Ruby
  72. Ruby
  73. Ruby
  74. Emma
  75. Ruby
  76. Emma
  77. Emma
  78. Emma
  79. Ruby
  80. Ruby
  81. Ruby
  82. Ruby
  83. Ruby
  84. Ruby
  85. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  86. Readers Guide
  87. About the Author
  88. What’s next onyour reading list?

“Tom was sulking on the flight and when it was time to land, he deliberately turned to talk to the man sitting next to him, knowing I’d need someone to cling to. It was bad weather, too, windy and pouring with rain, which made it even more scary for me. I was in bits when we got off the plane.”

Harry’s mouth tightened. “He’s a really nice guy, your husband.”

I looked away, ashamed suddenly that I was still married to Tom. “Don’t let’s think about him now. I want it just to be us this weekend.”

•   •   •

Our hotel was small, with only twenty rooms, and in the Pigalle area in northern Paris, where old-style cabarets mixed with hip new bars and restaurants. The Moulin Rouge was right at the end of the street. The other staff from work who would be at the conference were staying in a different hotel near the Champs-Élysées; there was a casino nearby that they wanted to go to. They’d shown no interest in where we were staying, except to check with me that we weren’t staying at their hotel. This was a weekend away for them and they didn’t want their boss hanging around with them at night.

“This is so beautiful,” I said when we entered the lobby. “The last time I was in Pigalle was when I was eighteen and backpacking. We stayed in dormitories and had to bring our own sleeping bags.”

This hotel was as different from that as it could be, with its Moorish tiles and crimson velvet chairs and nineteenth-century oil paintings adorning the walls.

He laughed. “I knew you’d like it.” He held me to him and I felt his breath against my cheek, making me shiver with anticipation. “I chose it especially for you.”

We had separate rooms, as the booking was made through work, but we had no intention of using one of them. As soon as we were alone he was kissing me, up against the door, as though we’d just met.

When we finally made it back to the bar, I watched him as he spoke to the waiter in French, talking about the wine list. He seemed nervous, on edge, and I panicked in case he was regretting things, but then he turned to me and smiled and said, “I got myself tied up in knots there. I have no idea what I’ve just ordered,” and I relaxed.