She paced. Why wasn’t she seeing David for who he was? He’d kept Luca a secret. For years. David might have been afraid to tell her about Luca, but she struggled to comprehend how he’d left his son after every visit. She’d been with the child for a few hours over the past two days and already missed him. She’d never figure out how David could leave Luca.
She’d been loyal to her husband her entire married life, but David wasn’t here anymore. He’d betrayed her by keeping Luca a secret. She wasn’t betraying David by feeling attracted to Gilbert. She rubbed her thighs and saw the wine had stained her caramel pants. She groaned and looked around the room for a saltcellar and found one on the desk. Folding the slacks into the bathroom sink, she sprinkled the salt over the stain and turned on the cold water.
A knock startled her. That was Gilbert, and she was half naked. She grabbed a chenille throw from the bed and wrapped it around her hips like a skirt. “Come in.”
The doorknob clicked. “It’s locked.”
“Oh, how did that happen?” Could she pretend she couldn’t unlock it? She gnawed at her chapped lip. Stop lying. Clutching her blanket-skirt, she bent and unlocked the door with a flick of her finger.
He placed her roller bag on the floor, encircled her in his arms, and pulled her to him.
She put up her hands and resisted for half a second, then leaned into him, inhaling the cedar scent of his cologne.
“I am sorry about the photograph. I should have put it away, but I forgot. It must have been a shock for you.”
How had he known in an instant how she felt? She nodded. He rubbed her back. His heart beat against her palms, strong, slow, steady.
“David and Sophie admired and respected one another, but they were only friends.”
And David had kept Sophie a secret, as well as Gilbert and Luca. A stiffness spread across her shoulders. She was angry with David. Marti would say: About time.
“Would you like to return to the salon? The fire is lonely, and so am I.”
She reluctantly backed away. Her blanket-skirt fell to her ankles.
“There’s a fluffy robe hanging in the armoire.” He grinned.
She was surprised she wasn’t embarrassed. She wanted him to look at her. Being in his arms felt safe, and she already missed his warmth. “D’accord. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Your French lessons are going well.” He quietly closed the door behind him.
She began unpacking her bag and held David’s photo.I feel cheated that you never shared Luca with me.It feels good to be angry with you.Guilt swept in and back out. David always protected her, but whatever he protected her from was cloaked in darkness. Why hadn’t he helped her to uncover her feelings? Or encourage her to excavate them herself? Or at least urge her to talk to her best friend, who happened to be a doctor. She placed the photo in a drawer, under her clothes. David wasn’t alive anymore. She needed to see him for who he really was, not who she thought he’d been.
The darkness in her life had restricted her and her marriage from growing. She wanted an intimate relationship, and she’d have one if it killed her. Hiding from the octopus’s tentacles was no longer possible. She aimed to shine light on that Kraken and evict him from her life.
She freshened her makeup, changed into her nightgown, put on the fluffy white robe embroidered with tiny pink rosebuds, and fussed with her hair.
Gilbert was right, David wouldn’t want her to be lonely. He’d want her to be happy. And since she had the rest of her life to live, she wanted to be happy, too.
Chapter 27
Aplatterofcoldroast chicken, baguette slices, olives, cornichons, grapes, and three cheeses sat in the center of the coffee table. How did the French put together elegant, gourmet meals in a few minutes? It would take at least an hour for her to drive to the grocery store and buy a rotisserie chicken and potato chips.
Two wine glasses, plates and napkins rested on the coffee table. She sat on the couch and tucked her feet up under the robe.
Gilbert carried logs and placed them on the fire. “Would you prefer red or white wine?”
“Does white stain less?”
“Salt works on both.”
“David would advise that the white goes best with the chicken?” she asked.
He dusted off his hands. “Probably. It was his favorite.”
“I’m angry with David. I’ll take the red.”
He poured the wine, handed her a glass, and clinked his glass to hers. “Welcome.” Golden specs in his blue-gray eyes glittered in the soft light.
