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Woman's Weekly

June 24, 2025

Georgie’s new life in Paris was thrilling — but part of her heart was still back home

Twenty-two-year-old Georgie is a professional dancer training for her new job at the famous cabaret club Le Caprice in Paris. She is sharing an apartment with Angel, another new dancer from the UK. Both girls find the training challenging, especially the moves for the can-can. Georgie often calls and texts her electrician boyfriend Harry back in Barnsley. Harry wasn't keen for Georgie to go to Paris, fearing she wouldn't come back. After Harry takes ages to respond to a voice message and some texts, Georgie is feeling unsettled about their relationship. Ona day off, leaving Angel to rest an injured leg, she goes for a walk, but then gets caught ina thunderstorm. While sheltering in a doorway, she is joined by a handsome stranger, who suggests they make a dash for a nearby café. At first, thinking of Harry, Georgie declines. But the stranger persuades her, protecting her with his jacket as they dart into the torrential rain.

That’s an unusual name,’ Georgie said, taking a sip of coffee and trying to appear relaxed. Though relaxed was the last thing she was feeling. She looked a fright — dripping wet, the little make-up she had on washed away, her hair slowly frizzing up... And here she was sitting opposite one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen.

She had tried her best to dry off in the café loo, doing contortions to get her head under the electric hand dryer, and patting herself with paper towels. But looking in the mirror, there was still a bedraggled scarecrow staring back at her.

The man smiled at her now. Annoyingly, with his dark curls glistening and sprigs of damp chest hair just visible at the neck of his white T-shirt, the rain only seemed to have enhanced his charms.

‘Lonan is an Irish name. It means “little blackbird,” he said, his French accent rolling over the word ‘blackbird’. ‘My mum is from Cork, and she told me it was the first name she thought of when I was born. Here, I’ve got a photo...’