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The curls of her hair are silky under my fingertips. She blinks, her eyes searching mine.
“Right,” she says, shaking her head. “So very complicated. Compliqué,” she adds with a flourish.
“It’s not fair to you,” I try to explain, but she raises her hands to stop me.
“Please, there’s nothing to say. I’m here to help you with your grandmother, and that’s it. I am repaying my debt. I suppose it’s easy to get carried away in a place like this. Such beauty, such...”
Her eyes land on me again, and I dissolve under her gaze. I want to reassure her. But how can I? I don’t know how these next twenty-four hours are going to go. Anything could happen. Meanwhile, she’s only just arrived in France. She catches her breath every time she looks across the countryside. Maybe I am just a small part of her story, not the leading man in her life. That’s what I have to tell myself.
I am Olivier Dubois. I may have unwittingly become the foundation of this family, but for now, this is where I stand. And I cannot let that foundation be shaken by the sweetness of my American subordinate.
’Nor can I look at her.If I do, every bit of my resolve will melt into a puddle at her feet.
“I’m sorry,” I say to her, but it means so much more than that.
It means I’m sorry for having brought her here and put her through this chaos with Grandmama. It means I’m sorry she’s been treated like less than the woman she is by Simone. It means I’m sorry I can’t be the man I should be. And it means I’m sorry I can’t be with her now, despite every bone in my body wishing for it to be so.
Does she hear all of that in my voice?
“Nothing to be sorry for,” she says, waving her hand like I’ve just apologized for opening the door on her toe. “Perfectly normal. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”
“Natalie—"
“No, please,” she cuts me off, but her voice breaks. “Maybe it’s best we leave it at this for now.”
I can’t let her think that I don’t want more. But how can I say that to her while looking her straight in the eye and saying I can’t be with her now? There must be a way.
Please Natalie, see it in my eyes.
“Olivier, Olivier!”
Any hope I had for this moment is smashed to pieces like the crystal that surrounded Natalie’s feet at the restaurant.
“You’d better go,” Natalie says. “And I’d better get out of dodge.” Her voice cracks.
“Olivier!” Simone’s voice rises in pitch and force. “J’arrive.”
By the time I turn to Natalie, all I see is her back as she runs farther into the garden. A sigh escapes from somewhere deep inside me and I head toward the house—faster than I would like, and slower than I should.
“You’d better get in there,” Simone says, her hands on her hips. “Your father is back, and he is not pleased.”
Simone spins on her three-inch heels. I still don’t know how she does it, but it must be something they learn as women. For once I’m grateful for Simone’s interruption. Father is back earlier than expected.
I need to mentally prepare myself for what I know is coming next.
* * *
“How could you leave the restaurant like this?”
Father holds his head as he paces in the dining room. It’s an old habit of his that hasn’t died since I was five years old, and he told me off for picking grapes and eating them.
“Right at this crucial moment, of all times. The period that will change everything for us—and you’re here? You know you should be in Paris.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Simone mutters from the corner.
My brother remains quiet on the other side of the dining room. I’m sure he’s wishing—like me—that he was anywhere else but here.
“Explain yourself!” Father demands, slamming his palms down on the table.
