And, if a union was to be successful, it had to be balanced, that was the secret. You couldn’t have one partner who only loved a little and the other experiencingà la folie– a madness so powerful it seeped into every cell of their body and became part of the mists of their soul.
Luc’s breath left his lungs in a self-deprecating huff. As if he knew anything about it. He’d only achieved the splintered life. He’d never considered marriage.
Okay… that wasn’t quite true. He just hadn’t come up with the idea first. Orre-considered it since.
Tom’s sister, Hannah, had proposed tohimat Tom and Sophie’s engagement party. He’d said yes, although they’d kept that secret for quite some time – not only because Hannah didn’t want to be seen to be copying her brother’s enthusiasm for the next life milestone but because it wasn’t something that needed to be shouted from the rooftops. It just made sense. They were good friends. Almost as close as brother and sister. And it would keep the ‘Fab Four’ intact, wouldn’t it?
They hadn’t wanted a flashy engagement party. They chose to go camping with their best friends to celebrate – months later, which gave them all a respite from the increasing whirlwind of Tom and Sophie’s wedding preparations. It had been just the four of them in the peaceful surroundings of the New Forest area. How happy had they all been? Packing Luc’s van with a small tent, sleeping bags and air mattresses, a barbecue, plenty of food and a whole crate of the best champagne Hannah had found in her father’s wine cellar.
Neither Luc nor Hannah was madly, or even passionately, in love. They weren’t actuallyinlove at all but they did genuinely care about each other and, because they both felt the same way, the balance was there. Who knew? Maybe they would have lasted the distance. Had children who would have been cousins to the babies that Tom and Sophie would have had. One big happy family?
Yeah…right…
Luc swallowed the sharp bitterness he could actually taste for a heartbeat. The ping of the safety belt light going off was a relief. He could move and that was always the best way to dismiss unwanted thoughts. Standing up to take his precious camera bag from the overhead locker felt like he was moving forward again. He could get on with the process of getting through the airport and heading into Nice. Or the outskirts of it, at least. They had agreed to meet at one of the iconic restaurants, on the Promenade des Anglaise, a stone’s throw from the old town.
He walked past tourists taking their selfies in front of the #ILoveNICE sign and turned on to the staircase that interrupted the sea wall. He had deliberately arrived first so he could choose which seat to take at the table he knew he’d been given and he sat facing the interior of the restaurant, partly so that he could see when Sophie arrived but more, he wanted her to sit with her back to the view of other diners and the parasols and sunbeds of the beach. She would see only the rich blue of the sea and the craggy rocks at this end of the lower terrace, perhaps a yacht floating past and… himself.
Ouais… she would be looking at him with virtually no distractions and he would know whether he’d been right to fear that frisson of hope he’d taken away with him when he’d left France having made the choice to see her again.
* * *
He was waiting for her.
Sophie could feel his gaze on her the moment she walked through the doors of the restaurant and she spotted him at the table in the far corner at almost the same moment.
She brushed off the maître d’s offer to escort her through the crowded tables, telling him she could see the person who was expecting her. She took off her sunhat but kept her sunglasses on, because it felt like protection from that watchful gaze.
Luc was also wearing sunglasses but he wasn’t wearing his black hat today and his shaggy dark hair was combed into a tidy knot at the back of his head. A man bun?
Really?
Ironically, Sophie had gone the other way today, giving her blonde curls free rein to tickle her shoulders, despite the heat, instead of trying to tame them into her signature messy bun. As even more of a contrast, she was wearing a cobalt blue maxi sundress with thin straps and a tiered skirt, and Luc was, quite possibly, wearing the same close-fitting black tee shirt he’d had on under his leather jacket when he’d arrived at Zara’s wedding.
He stood up as Sophie reached the table, taking off his sunglasses to make brief, polite eye contact as he greeted her.
‘Bonjour, Sophie.’
‘Bonjour,’ she responded. Nerves kicked in at the sound of his voice. Not because it still had that uncanny ability to find a way past her ears to reach so many other parts of her body. She was nervous because too much was riding on this meeting. This was either a beginning or an end. She tried, and failed, to find a smile. ‘Ça va?’
‘Ça va très bien, merci.’
Sophie could hear a note in his voice she’d never heard before. Or perhaps she could feel it in the air between them. Was it because they were alone together, for the first time in more than ten years?
Or was it because they were alone together and speakingFrench– the universally accepted language of love? Unbidden, she could remember Hannah pressing a hand to her heart in an exaggerated appreciation of Luc speaking French.
She switched to English. ‘Thanks for meeting me… Phoenix.’ Her hesitation was as minimal as the way Luc’s body stilled, as if he had a decision to make.
‘Luc’s fine,’ he said quietly, a beat later. ‘That’s how they know me here.’ One shoulder lifted in a small shrug in response to Sophie’s raised eyebrows. ‘I did the photography for their new menu and an advertising gig recently.’
‘Ah… so that’s why you scored the best table in the restaurant at such short notice?’
The maître d’ arrived to unfurl a crisp white napkin with a flourish that ended with it covering Sophie’s skirt. A waiter was behind him, with two flutes of champagne on a silver tray.
‘With our compliments, Monsieur Moreau,’ the maître d’ said. He filled their water glasses, placed menus in front of them and was gone.
The moment felt slightly awkward. Sophie grabbed at something to say to fill it.
‘So you still do food photography then?’
