He’d stood staring at that fireplace for the longest time.
Remembering the storm at the Villa Céleste.
Reliving that kiss. Yet again.
Had Sophie done this a thousand times since then, like he had?
Did she feel like she was standing on the very edge of an emotional precipice with the choice of running for safety or letting herself fall, not knowing what was waiting below or whether or not it would be survivable?
Luc certainly did.
He was teetering.
The urge to run was there, because that kiss reminded him of every fantasy he’d ever had about Sophie. The guilt that had come from that secret pleasure because he knew he was stealing something from Tom that, disconcertingly, felt like one of the foundation stones of their friendship.
Trust.
He’d hidden his feelings so well that Tom thought he didn’t approve of, or particularly like, Hannah’s best friend. That yes, she was beautiful but, as far as Luc was concerned, the jury was out on whether a cloud of blonde waves, a smile that lit up a room and eyes the royal blue of a highly prized sapphire were enough to be sure that she was ‘the one’?
‘No need to rush, mate. The rest of your life is a long, long time.’
How many things would he have chosen to do differently if he’d had any idea of how little time there actually was?
Could he have saved Tom that night?
Of course he could have.
If he’d onlyknown.
The pain of what had been the end was still there. It would always be there, wouldn’t it?
But it felt different now.
As if he was looking at it through some kind of protective barrier, like a pane of glass. And was it muted in some way? A bit blurry – as if that glass had been spattered with rain?
It couldn’t be simply the passage of time that was making the difference. Ten years was more than enough and this was only happening right now. Was it this house and the two halves of his life that it encompassed with the grandeur of Dulwich and the grit of Camberwell?
Was it that a dream that Tom’s death could be the catalyst for this house’s potential to change lives –savelives – was taking the final steps towards becoming a reality?
Or was it that every time he heard the sound of that tiny bell he knew that Sophie didn’t hate him any longer? That with every passing day, that new strand between them was getting stronger.
Maybe it had always been there. That, if they were both courageous enough to hold it tightly, they would discover that it was indestructible.
But perhaps what was capturing him so completely in this moment that he couldn’t breathe, let alone move, was the feeling of standing on that precipice.
Holding his arms out wide.
Wondering if, by some miracle, when he took that leap of faith he might discover that he could, in fact,fly…
17
The knock on the door was soft.
Tentative, almost.
Sophie might not have heard it, in fact, if she hadn’t been in her office way past her normal working hours, going over every detail of what was going to be the last wedding of the season for Marry Me in Provence because she wanted it to be perfect.
‘Sophie? Are you there?’
