And just like that, I had lost them both. Obviously, I was beyond furious at Claire but what hurt the most was Louise’s blatant betrayal. I couldn’t wrap my head around it at all. It was as if my brain was able to delete Claire’s existence immediately, she had done her worst, and I was through with her. It was the grand, explosive and heart-breaking finale of our dramatic love affair, which would of course come back to haunt me later. But I simply couldn’t grasp why Louise had done what she just did. We were friends. We had had our flirtatious moments, but nothing had ever happened. Even though it was all pretty much left unspoken, she seemed very principled about not getting involved with me romantically as long as Claire and I were together. I even admired her for that. And then she went and slept with Claire? It couldn’t make less sense. I wanted to call her and ask what happened, but I didn’t have the heart for it, I was afraid of the possible finality of the answer I might get. So I went back to Paris without much of a plan.

On the train back it started dawning on me that not only was I emotionally broken, I was also homeless. I had moved to Paris to be with Claire and I was living in her apartment. When transferring in London, I was tempted not to get on the Eurostar at all and just crash at Alex’s or Liz’s, but I had to go to work on Monday. As the train was leaving the station, in a moment of overly sentimental nostalgia, I was convinced that my former boss Theresa would have been so understanding that she probably would have given me a week off to plot my revenge. Unfortunately, my current boss Nigel was not that kind of person. He knew his old friend Claire way better than me, I was only his employee. I actually realised that if I didn’t play my cards right, Claire could easily have me fired. Then I would have to leave Paris. And Louise.

I called Vincent and told him the story. He already knew since he was one of Louise’s best friends. I asked him if I could stay with him for a couple of days, which was a bit delicate, as he was Claire’s assistant (and Louise’s cher ami). I may have arrived more than two years earlier, but my entire life in Paris still seemed to revolve around only one person: Claire Burns. Luckily, Vincent, being the foul-mouthed but big-hearted gay that he was, agreed − maybe he felt guilty for introducing me to Louise. I went straight from the train station to his place on that gloomy Sunday night, only to find Louise waiting for me, sobbing on his couch. I can’t say that didn’t please me. I was also glad to have the opportunity to ask her about an almost unthinkable thought, that had been rising silently, but steadily, inside of me, as the day had progressed.

“Please don’t tell me the sex was so good you’re getting together with her.”
“What? No. No, of course not.”
“Then I have only one question. Why? For fuck’s sake, why? What the hell happened?”
“Do you want the full story, or the short excuse?”
“As much as I probably don’t want to hear it, I’ll take the full story.”

To be continued…