“Oh my God, really? Please!”
“We’ll see,” she replies with a laugh.
Jackson texts melater:How did it go?
One of the best moments of my life, I reply.She was so happy.
Aw, he says.Hey, Mom wants to go to a hilltop town tomorrow. Do you and Mellie want to come? We can celebrate then.
It’s not quite the same as going out for drinks with him—Sandrine tends to control the narrative when she’s around and the rest of us just fall in behind her—but it should still be a fun day.
That sounds great, I reply.I’ll ask Mellie.
I love that he’s been involved in my decision to stay here, that he’s been a part of my life in such a big way. He’s always been there in some respect. Even when he was married to Chloe I always knew that he was only at the end of a phone line if I needed him—he would have picked up in an instant. I’m so glad we’re friends again.
But that’s still all we are. And maybe it’s all we’re ever destined to be.
As for Étienne, he started this thing with me believing that it would be no more than a holiday fling, but it feels like more than that to me. We’ve connected on a deeper level, whether he meant it to happen or not. And now that I’m staying…
I should probably tell him that I’m not going home. But being honest about my feelings has never been a strength of mine. Just look at Jackson. We’ve known each other for twenty years and we’ve never laid it all out on the table.
I’m starting to think that we never will.
30
It’s thirty-seven degrees on Saturday,which is far from ideal for wandering around a hilltop town, but we’re sticking to the plan. Jackson drives us in his BMW, which is roomier than Albert’s Peugeot and has much better air-conditioning.
I sit in the back, sandwiched between Mellie and Sandrine. Albert is almost as tall as Jackson so he’s up at the front in the passenger seat. From this angle I can see the similarities in their profiles, their square jaws and high cheekbones. Even their hair is a similar length, although Albert’s is thinner and whiter.He’s quite an attractive older gentleman,I muse to myself.
“Have you persuaded him to sell the garage to us yet?” Sandrine asks, causing me to tense up.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” I reply uneasily.
“Oh pfft,” she says dismissively.
Mellie leans forward in her seat to talk across me. “Have you seen that Hôtel Dubois is for sale, Sandrine?”
“Which one is Hôtel Dubois?” she asks.
“It’s just across the bridge by the factory,” Mellie replies.
“Where?” I ask. This is news to me too.
“Right next door to the restaurant where the painting is, Gracie,” Jackson tells me in the rearview mirror.
Albert swivels in his seat, joining in on the conversation. “It used to have a very nice reception room. Quite big for an old building.”
“It has a pleasant river view too,” Mellie chips in.
“I can set up a viewing if you like,” Jackson offers.
“Why not?” Sandrine replies. “Let’s go and take a look.”
She stretches forward and squeezes Jackson’s broad shoulders. He reaches back and rubs her hand affectionately.
I sit there, feeling like I’ve just dodged a bullet. Étienne too.
Mellie gives my knee a subtle pat.
