Inès’s anger left Milo lost for words. He took in her distress with a crushing sense of guilt.
“I just thought—”
He stopped. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain his fears without her thinking he was crazy.
“Forget it,” said Inès bitterly. She turned and began to walk away. She quickened her pace to keep ahead of him. Milo bit his lower lip, torn between his desire to pursue a relationship and the nagging feeling in his gut that his attraction to her put her in mortal danger. He wanted to catch up with her, to apologize, confess his anxiety, explain. Explain what exactly? “If I show my love for you, you’ll die”? Absurd! His rational self mocked his fear. He understood how ridiculous he would sound, how irrational his conviction was, and yet he was incapable of letting go of it.
As he watched her walking ahead, he knew he would lose her if he didn’t do something. It was probably better that way, but God, it hurt! He felt a great weight of regret and gnawing sadness. He despised himself for his weakness.
“Inès!”
He caught up with her and tried to find words to allay her bitter indignation. He found nothing to say that sounded sane, hated himself for being so useless. He vacillated between doubt and conviction, lacerated by this inner struggle that was unfolding, that was damaging his heart, scorching his lungs, tearing his guts apart.
“What’s your problem?” she hissed at him furiously. “Are you or are you not my boyfriend?”
“Um, yes...”
“Or are you just a friend?”
“Um, no...”
“‘Um yes, um no.’ Is that the best you can do?”
“It’s not that...”
“What is it, then?”
She stopped and turned to face him with her arms crossed, waiting for an explanation. Milo held her accusing gaze.
“Look, it’s complicated. You don’t know anything about my life, and—”
“You’re with someone else?” she burst out, her eyes widening with anger and horror.
“No!”
“Because if that’s what it is, you might have been decent enough to tell me right away,” she screeched. She wasn’t going to be able to hold back her tears much longer. To hide how sad she was, she dumped him right there and then, on the sidewalk, and ran off.
Devastated by the turn of events, Milo stood rooted to the spot and watched her go. It seemed as if the more he tried to put things right and smooth things over, the more he tried somehow to appease both his superstitions and his sweetheart, the worse everything got. And now, at the thought that Inès was suffering because of him, he was devastated.
“Inès!” he called after her and began to run. He caught up with her and, grabbing one of her arms, forced her to stop. She was in tears. His last line of emotional defense was utterly destroyed by the heartrending sight. He drew her to him and held her tight in his arms, as if trying to crush her grief. Inès began to sob even harder as she clung to him. Milo closed his eyes, buried his face in her hair, and banished all thought of the danger his feelings might pose to her.
“Forgive me,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s all my fault. Please don’t cry. I feel so many things for you. I like you! I really, really like you.”
Inès lifted her head and looked at Milo in surprise. The tears made her dark eyes seem even deeper; misery made her even more beautiful.
“Is that true?” she asked in a slightly wobbly voice.
“Yes,” he said unhesitatingly.
“But then...why did you...?”
“Never mind. Because I’m an idiot. But all that’s over now. I promise you from now on, nothing will take me away from you ever again.”
She looked at him a little skeptically, trying to make out if he was telling the truth. She could see in the way he looked at her that his promise was absolutely sincere. And then she gave him a smile that, despite the trace of sadness that still marked her features, lit up her entire face.
Chapter 50
Back at home, Tiphaine was both satisfied and perplexed. Satisfied with the way things had gone: Nora had been perfect, beyond expectation, running headlong into the trap, transforming herself from victim to executioner. Perplexed, because she didn’t know what Gérard Depardieu’s file was doing at her neighbor’s house—the one which, she checked, contained enough compromising information about her and Sylvain for the case of Ernest Wilmot’s death and Milo’s parents’ double suicide to be reopened.
