“Penelope is here. I just met Penelope.”
“Yeah…”
“Did youknowshe was going to be here?”
“I found out yesterday.”
“Were younotgoing to tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry unnecessarily.” His hand was by my face, tucking my hair behind my ear, subtly transmitting our relationship to all.
“Have you seen her yet?”
“Briefly. In the theater.” He reached out for my wrist, fingering my cuff, familiar. “Solène… It’s been over for a long time…”
“I understand that.”
He was quiet for a moment, and then: “I’m sorry you keep bumping up against my past.”
I nodded. It was something I had not had much experience with. When I married Daniel, there were only fourteen girls that he’d slept with, and they were all on the East Coast. Except for that one in Capri.
“Come,” he said. “My mum and dad are over there. I want you to meet them. Have you had a sufficient amount of alcohol?”
“Probably not.”
“Let’s get you some more champagne then, and we’ll go meet my parents.”
They were standing over near Hayes’s table. I could see her face in profile as we approached. She had lovely bones and flawless skin, and she looked like the boy I had come to love, and that, in itself, was unsettling. She was laughing at something and I could see her dimples, and for a moment I thought I might not be able to go through with it. But Hayes called to them and they both turned around and there was no time to run. Not that my feet could havemoved if I’d willed them, because standing next to Hayes’s mother was the rakish Brit from the hotel elevator.
The air left my lungs.
“Mum, Dad, this is Solène,” he said proudly, his hand at the small of my back, encouraging, protective.
“Victoria.” She took my hand in hers, warm. Warmer than I’d expected. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Likewise,” I said.
“Ian,” Mr. Campbell said, never breaking character, his two large hands pumping mine. “Lovely to meet you, Solène.”
“My pleasure.” I might have smiled a smidge too wide. Blame it on the awkwardness, the champagne, the fact that I’d openly flirted with Hayes’s father.
I thought back to the first time that I’d met Daniel’s parents at their house on the Vineyard, and how daunting they’d seemed to me then. It felt like I was there again. Except these people were technically my generation. And I knew they were likely thinking,What the fuck are you doing with our child?
“Our son is quite fond of you,” Victoria said.
“Is he?” I turned to him, and the way he was looking at me brought to mind his expression in the photo he’d shown me with his mum and Churchill. So much adoration and awe. That it was directed at me was staggering.
“He’s pretty wonderful, your son.” I hoped I was not giving too much away. “You must be very proud of him.”
“We are,” Ian said. “Did you enjoy the film?”
“Very much, yes. It was artsier than I expected.”
“It was. Hayes says you’re in the art world?” Victoria was twirling the string of pearls around her neck. Her dress, black, classic, I recognized as Chanel. Of course.
“I am.”
“A gallerist?” Ian asked.
