By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс
Читать онлайн книгу.
ask Tante Marise.’
He nodded. ‘Although Oncle Georges would be overjoyed to be included. Still, it’s difficult with only the two. But what can one do? Papa is in Venice, but even he might feel he has a claim …’
She could see the crack widening in the dam wall. ‘I suppose … one could invite some of them as guests.’
He glanced up, his face illuminated with a sudden devastating smile that wrung her heart. ‘Only if you would feel comfortable with that, of course.’
She shrugged, gracious in defeat. At least he could be happy. ‘Oh, sure, sure. Invite them all. And the children. And their dogs. But you know what that means, don’t you?’
He was smiling at his iPad. ‘What?’
‘Printed invitations. Flowers. Photos. Receptions. All that stuff. Stuff I know nothing about arranging.’
‘You can leave all that to me. What about Neil and Emilie?’
‘Are you kidding? The twins are barely three months old. Em won’t want to travel with them. And she’s breastfeeding so she can’t leave them behind, even if she wanted to. No, I’m doomed to go it alone.’
‘Tsk, tsk. So depressing. At least on Saturday we can see about your dress. That will be something beautiful to think of, n’est-ce pas?’
She heaved a bored sigh. ‘Whatever. Choose what you like. Just so long as it’s yellow.’
She could tell she’d made some impact with that. He looked at her long and hard.
But it gave her no real satisfaction. Did she want to disgruntle him and send him off to the office looking stern for another day of terrifying his employees? No, she wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to have everything in the world he wanted. Even if it wasn’t her, all that much.
Of course, once she had proved her case about his paternity, he might see her in a different light. If she didn’t throw herself off the Pont Neuf first.
After he’d kissed her goodbye, then strode off to catch his train, she drifted around for a while, half-heartedly tidying things like a nineteen fifties housewife and feeling miserable about the whole damned thing.
It was lowering to know that a man would never have dreamed of marrying you if you hadn’t been pregnant. And just to underline that fact couldn’t even be bothered to dress up his proposal with a few flowery words.
Lately, she’d even given up the effort to dress herself up. Most days she mooched around in shorts, shirts and sandals, her hair in a daggy ponytail. Occasionally she’d drag on a skirt for the shops, but that was her biggest concession.
She felt Luc’s gaze on her often, anxious, troubled, but she didn’t feel like explaining. If he couldn’t work out that a woman liked to feel at least equal to his ex in his regard, what was the point?
There was an evening when Luc was taking her to a reception at the Turkish embassy. When she emerged from her boudoir in a shortish skirt and a vest top, Luc stood stock still, gorgeous in his evening suit, surveying her quite sternly. Then he steered her back into her dressing room, stripped off those clothes and pulled out her good black dress.
‘Put this on,’ he commanded, then added smoothly, ‘They will be going to some trouble for us. We have to consider their feelings too, mon amour.’ Though gentle, there was unmistakable steel in his demeanour.
She knew she was sulking like an angry, disappointed child, but that was because she was an angry, disappointed woman, with a child inside. While she capitulated in the matter of the dress, in a bold act of defiance she painted a fly on her cheek.
Luc simply smiled and said, ‘Enchanting.’ And to further destabilise her, he introduced her to all the dignitaries at the reception as his future bride with apparent glowing pride.
The rift stretched between them as wide and cold as a frozen sea.
Her blue mood persisted until the day of the amnio test. On the morning of the test she was jumpier than a cricket. Since her appointment at the clinic wasn’t until early afternoon, she killed time by going to the market.
In an effort to crush down the jagged rocks in her chest, she visited her favourite art-supply shop first, and purchased some gentian blue and vermilion. Then she wended her way through the market, collecting sundry fruits and vegetables for the household supply. Shopping was easier now she could ask for things in French.
She was just gazing wistfully into the window of a patisserie she knew she should avoid when a voice she vaguely recognised accosted her.
‘Shari, is it?’
She turned. Like an apparition from her worst nightmares, Manon was standing there, smiling a little uncertainly, an elegant tote bag hanging off her wrist.
‘Oh. Bonjour. How are you? I mean you … you look very well. Beautiful, as always.’
Manon laughed. ‘Beautiful. I feel like a whale. My back aches, my ankles are swelling, and I’m hot. I’ve only just arrived and already I need to sit down. Shall we go inside?’
Shari only just managed not to drop her jaw. But why not? Why refuse the elegant woman?
‘How close are you to your time?’ she enquired over the tiny sliver of gateau that she’d allowed herself. No added cream. Even on a horrible day some lines had to be drawn.
‘Three days past. My waters could break at any second. Does that give you an uncomfortable feeling?’ She grinned and Shari allowed herself to relax and laugh. ‘I’m not supposed to go out but I needed to escape. My partner would be cross with me if she could see me now.’
Shari pricked up her ears. Well, well, well. Here was an intriguing turn-up. She wondered if she should tell Luc that he and Jackson Kerr had been supplanted by a woman.
‘Was that her at the clinic that day?’
Manon nodded. ‘Oui, that was Jenny. And are you and Luc still living around the corner?’
‘Yep.’
‘I enjoyed living there. Such a wonderful part of the city.’ She smiled across her strawberry mousse.
Shari lowered her gaze. ‘Mmm. I love the views.’ And the man. So much. Too much.
‘Vraiment. So pretty. I still think of my peaches and lemons sometimes. It was Luc’s maman who whispered Luc’s favourite colours to me.’
Shari lifted her brows. ‘Really?’
‘Oui. I could never really grow used to it. And after all my effort I was never even sure he noticed. Men. What can we do about them?’ She gave a Gallic shrug, then winked. ‘I have found my own way.’
Shari looked searchingly at her. ‘And—you’re happy?’
‘Never happier.’ The glowing radiance of her smile was undeniable. ‘Life is too short not to be as happy as you can be.’
Shari agreed with that philosophy with all her heart. Though why did other people’s happiness always make the heart twinge? ‘Do you mind if I ask something?’
‘Mais non. Ask away.’
‘Did you have the—amniocentesis test?’
Manon nodded. ‘I needed to. We had some concerns at one stage about spina bifida, because it is in my family genetics. But … it seems there was no need to worry, after all. It’s good to know our baby escaped that terrible thing.’
‘How bad was it? Taking the test?’
She waggled her hand. ‘Comme ci, comme ça. A little scary. Everything is scary when you’ve never done it before. But in the end—not bad. It gave us peace of mind.’
‘Of course.’ If only she had peace