Chapter 2
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER
It had taken her weeks to pack up the house. All of her parents' belongings folded neatly in a box and taken to storage. Her bags were packed and flung over her shoulder or wheeled behind her. Her flight for Paris was booked for 2pm that day. Her taxi took her from her childhood home, to the airport. She sat down in the waiting area, book in hand.
The flight was horrid. A baby sat across the aisle, crying so loud it pierced her eardrums. A guy sat behind her, loudly snoring. He had earmuffs and a sleep mask. His legs were pushed up against the back of her chair, jabbing at her back the entire flight. But the flight was only just over an hour so her time in hell was short lived.
A taxi took her from the airport to her aunt's house. Her aunt was a strict woman. Strong faced and stiff. As she helped carry Petunia's things to the door she didn't bother saying hi to the girl. Only nodding and picking up the suitcase. Petunia fiddled with her second bag as the driver drove away.
Her bag sat on the curb as she looked up at the house. It was big, double the size of their family home back in England. She spent the afternoon settling into the room that her aunt had procured for her. The bed had posters, the windows actually had drapes and there was an expensive rug on the hardwood floor. That night her sleep was as delicate and comfortable as sleeping on a pile of kittens. If that thought isn't completely revolting.
The next morning her aunt is in the sitting room, reading the newspaper with her cup of tea beside her. They don’t talk much. Petunia eats alone that morning before leaving the house to explore further. The town is cozy. While busy and bustling, the weather is calm and the people rushing around still have a calmness that exudes off of them. Petunia is so captivated by the architecture, the people and the flowers that she doesn't notice the person running ahead of her. And she doesn't see him quick enough to move out of the way before he smashes right into her, leaving her to topple into the lavender bush in someone's front yard.
HANS OF THE SOUTHERN ISLES
“Oh Merlin, Je suis désolé,” the man says. He’s gorgeous. His french accent just makes it all better. His dark hair falls into his eyes which are a mix of blue and grey. He wears a suit, a grey one with purple detailing. And it just makes him look absolutely delectable. He reaches out his hand to help her up and all she can think about is how strong his hands look. The only reason she reaches out to grab it is to see if it really is as sturdy and strong as it looks. He hoists her up and because of the strength of it she stumbles over until she is bumping into him. Chest to chest.
“Oh my- I’m terribly sorry,” She stumbles out. He’s still holding her hand as he shakes his head and replies. “No no no, I’m the one that bumped you into the bush.” She smiles, staring into his eyes. He smiles back before coughing and letting her go. His departure leaves her cold as a soft gust of wind passes by. “I’m Petunia,” she says as she puts her hand out to shake. “I’m Rapheal,” He says as he takes her hand.
Despite his earlier rush, Raphael says that he has the entire day free and asks her to accompany him to morning tea. She agrees, not wanting to part for his company just yet. They spend the whole day in each other's company. First they do morning tea at a bakery that Rafael swears sells the best pastries in France, which she doesn’t argue when she tries whatever Rafael orders for her. Then from there they go to the park and walk, takeaway tea in hand. They spend the whole time talking. Rafael mentions his brothers, of which he has many. Petunia mentions her sister in passing. But he seems to understand her troubles.