Walking through the door of mine and Hugo's home, I get the sense of finally belonging somewhere. Ever since I burned my wedding gown, I'd felt freer than ever before but with that, I gained confidence in my relationship with Hugo. I've known for months that he's the only one I want to be with for the rest of my life, it's just... back then, there was always that tainted cloud of a failed marriage following me. Now, none of what's been before matters. The only thing of any importance to me from here on out is Hugo. 

"You're back," Hugo announces as he walks out from the bedroom and into the hallway, sans shirt. I drop my weekend bag on the floor, ignoring the heavy thud, and lean against the closed door. My eyes rake over Hugo's perfectly defined torso and instinctively, I lick my lips. Hugo laughs, making his stomach crumple. "Stop objectifying me."

I shrug. "No, that's ok. I quite like the status quo," I tease him. Throwing my keys aside, I slip off my leather jacket and unlace my Dr Martens, pushing them aside. Whereas before, I'd have jumped on Hugo and demanded that he take me to the bedroom, our relationship has developed from being all about sex to being all about an emotional connection. That's not to say I don't often demand that he take me to bed and do naughty, dirty things to me, it's just, right now, I want coffee and I want to hear all about what Hugo's done over the past few days without me. Heading into the kitchen, I open the fridge and see that it's empty. "I'm going to guess that you haven't done any shopping."

"I did some shopping," Hugo grins. "I bought myself a pair of Mr Leight sunglasses and a Tom Ford burgundy velvet tuxedo jacket. Which reminds me, I have an industry awards dinner next week. The invitation came this morning and I am allowed to bring a guest. I was thinking, perhaps, we could make our debut then. Announce to the world, officially, that we are in a relationship."

The words float in my mind for a few stunned seconds before I close the fridge and turn to face Hugo. He looked boyish and a little unsure of himself, almost like a bashful teenager asking a girl out for the very first time. It was a sincere moment of vulnerability that I wasn't used to seeing when it came to Hugo Rousseau and it floored me. We'd been together, exclusively, for months but we've never 'appeared' together at any event that would confirm that we are a couple. Given the fact that Hugo's family and mine are very close and the French press have always known that we're family friends, no one's ever questioned it when photos of Emma Clément-Delaney, la fille de Camille Clément, and Hugo Rousseau out and about in Paris feature on the pages of Closer. They just think that we're old friends hanging out. 

They'd have a field day when the truth comes out. So far, the French press hasn't made a huge deal about my divorce or what's happened to my ex-husband since then, but once Hugo and I 'go public', there might be an increased interest in my personal life. Was I ready for that? 

To be honest, it wouldn't be much different from the gossip that the Upper East Side elite are currently spreading about me. That silly little website also announced that Adam had fathered a child while still married to me. And the details of his inditement and subsequent turning states evidence was all a matter of public record. If there was anyone that was going to come out of this looking like the bad guy, it would be that shady arsehole I divorced; Hugo would be portrayed as the dashing Frenchman that rode in on a great white horse and comforted his friend and that's when friendship matured into something intimate. The French gossip journalists adore my sisters and I and they rarely have a bad word to write about us, so I would hedge my bet on the fact that, within a few months, Hugo and I would be seen as a Parisian power couple in the fashion and art industry. 

"I better ask Delphine to rush through one of her designs, then," I sigh dramatically. Moving to Hugo's side of the counter, I wrap my arms around him, feeling the warmth radiating off his bare skin. "But when she asks why, I'll be sure to tell her that it's all your fault. Now, since you forgot to shop for useful things and we don't have milk, shall we go out for some brunch? I know this great little place not far from here."

We walked to Le Relais de la Butte. I could feel Hugo's eyes on me the entire walk but I refused to look at him. I think he knew exactly what I was doing. This time last year, Hugo brought me to the very café that I was headed towards and it was there that he began to teach me some French, mainly by looking at the menu. Today, however, my French had improved drastically. Yes, I was still a little rusty on some of the finer details of the language but I no longer freaked out when someone began to speak to me in their native tongue. For the most part, I understood what they said and could respond accordingly but there were some topics that I would steer clear of. If anyone spoke to me about the economy or politics, I was screwed. 

Giving an order at a café, on the other hand, was a piece of cake. The waitress grinned before retreating indoors to relay our message. We sat outside in the relatively cool April air but unlike last year, Hugo was no longer smoking. He'd cut down his intake to three a day: one in the morning; one in the afternoon; and one before bed. 

"Hugo, un écureuil!" I excitedly point at the squirrel that ran through the open space and up a tree. He proudly nodded at my pronunciation, having told me twelve months ago that it was possibly one of the hardest French words for a non-native speaker to get their tongue around. "I'm improving. So, after brunch, I want to take you to one of my favourite spots in Paris."

Hugo smiled. "Where?"

"You'll see."

Today was all about recreating that day from last year. We ate here and then we went to Le Mur de Je T'aime. Of course, the in between was littered with talk from Hugo about how I was the only person he wanted to be with and that he'd no longer be seeing other women. He gave me the key to his flat. Then he said that I'd be happier with him than with Hugo. 

He was right about that. 

Our pitstop at Le Mur was brief but I simply wanted to point something out to him. "This is all the things I want to say to you." He stares at the wall and the words written on it. I take his hand in mine and squeeze. "Hugo, I love you."

He kissed me and then, in a whisper, asked if we were headed to Parc des Buttes Chaumont. That had been our third destination on our last adventure here. Naturally, me being me, I was going to recreate this day perfectly, minute for minute, even if the walk from Le Mur was going to take almost an hour. I forgot just how far it is on foot but we eventually made it and decided that, since it was a relatively nice day, we'd sit and watch the world go by. 

"How was the burning ceremony?" Hugo tentatively asked as he sat on the ground, his jacket under him. He loathed asking questions about Adam these days, wanting to keep him in the past, but this was an opportune segue for me, and I really couldn't pass it up. 

"It was cathartic," I admit. I was draped across Hugo's lap, looking up at him, admiring his jawline. I couldn't help but reach up and trace the chiselled features. He playfully pulled away before pretending to bite my hand. I giggled like a schoolgirl. "I feel like we've come a very long way in the last year, you know. Ever since I rang Daniel and he said that everything with You Know Who-"

Hugo frowned. "Voldemort?"

"No," I laugh, rolling my eyes. Typical of Hugo to try and make a joke when he's feeling a tad nervous or threatened, not that he had cause to really feel either. He was far better for me than any other man I've known. "As I was saying, since that phone call, I've felt different, like the chains I was caught up in have melted away. I'm free now and I like that. My relationship with you, well, it's healthy. We don't try to dominate each other, we talk about anything and everything and we don't have secrets to hide from the rest of the world. With you, I know I can be the real me and I know you'll love me for it, no questions asked. The same goes for you. Burning the dress was an end of an era. Coming home to you this morning was the beginning of another."

"Oh, okay," Hugo muttered, clearly embarrassed by my words. "Just for you to know, though, I don't love you for every part of the real you that you are. I mean, the way you always leave your clothes on the bedroom floor annoys me, I hate that you never close the microwave door after you've used it and the fact that you never use a coaster on the coffee table is a huge red flag."

I shrug. "Yeah, well, just think of all the make up sex we'll have every time I annoy you then."

"Well, there is always an upside, I suppose," he laughs wholeheartedly. He looks down at me and winks. "While we're on this topic, you left your weekend bag in the hallway. That really, really, really annoys me. You should probably make it up to me. And I know just how. Two words: La balançoire."

"You promise?" I ask, a little too excited to get home and try out my favourite sex position. 

I stumble up to my feet and reach out my hand to Hugo, pulling him up to stand. We rush to the park exit and flag down a taxi, wanting to get back to the flat as soon as possible. The drive was excruciating and before I knew it, I was wet. Thankfully, we arrived back just in time, otherwise, I'd have pounced on Hugo in the back seat of the taxi. After Hugo pays, we rush up to the flat and stumble through the door. The first thing I notice is the weekend bag left in the hallway. 

"Oh, my, I really have been a naughty girl," I say, acting innocent. I spin in Hugo's arms. "I deserve a really good punishing."

Hugo grinned. "And I am more than happy to oblige."

Epilogue to be published April 13th!