Closing his eyes, Laurent inhaled a breath while running his hand tiredly down over his face. ‘Being with your family, seeing how you all love one another, reminded me of how fractured my own family are. Your parents are wonderful, Hannah. I just didn’t want to raise their expectations in terms of where our relationship was going.’
A swell of emotion grabbed her heart. He would never really know her parents, her sisters. She breathed against the loneliness that was threatening to drown her. ‘They’re good people.’ She shot him a meaningful look. ‘They deserved better from you.’
He grimaced and then with a nod said, ‘You’re right. Will you pass on my apologies?’
She wanted to say that he could do so himself. But, of course, he would never see them again. Instead she asked, ‘Have things improved with your family at all?’
He looked back towards the beach house. ‘Not really.’
‘Do you want a good relationship with them?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘I think you do. I think you love them despite everything that happened.’
At that Laurent gave a disbelieving laugh. He glanced in her direction and then away. ‘I don’t understand love.’
Despite the heat of the day, Hannah shivered at the quiet certainty in his voice. ‘You show love all of the time with your family. You’ve cared for and protected François since you were both teenagers. And when your parents were in crisis last year, you responded. Caring, protecting, responding to the other person, that’s all love.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re forgetting that it was my opportunity to take over Bonneval Cognac.’
‘I saw how upset you were the night your mother called to say how ill your father was. Getting to him and your mother was your priority. I bet the business didn’t even enter your mind. Am I right?’
He gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Perhaps.’
It felt as if an invisible wall had suddenly sprung up between them; she could feel Laurent distancing himself from her. Panic was curling inside her. She shifted around to face him directly, desperate to try to connect with him. ‘There’s time for you to develop a good relationship with them again.’ She paused, trying to gather her breath against the hard thumping of her heart. It felt as though her body was sensing something that was about to come.
Frowning, he studied her for a long while, as though trying to understand her. An intense pain squeezed her heart at the coolness of his gaze. ‘How do you manage to be so trusting of others despite everything you have gone through?’ he asked.
‘It’s not easy. But my parents always told me that I need to be honest, to respect and own my feelings.’ She stopped and gave an involuntary smile as his expression softened, but inside she was increasingly feeling vulnerable and desperate. She wanted him to understand her fully. She was so tired of pretence and hiding her true self. ‘It was an important part of me coping with everything that had happened.’
His hand reached for her bent knee, his fingertip running over the faint scar there she got when she tripped over a tractor tyre in the barn one day. ‘Your parents are very wise.’
‘Yes, they are. But unfortunately I don’t always follow their advice. Before you I was very cautious around guys. I was worried about getting things wrong. With my family, with friendships, I was okay...’ she paused, not sure if she should continue, but something deep inside her was telling her to be honest with him ‘...but I’ve always been afraid of falling in love.’
A guarded expression formed in his eyes. She knew she should stop. She was only going to embarrass herself. She had worked so hard to get over him and was now about to throw all of that away. She was about to compromise all the plans she had made for an independent future. She was going to make herself vulnerable all over again. But she couldn’t put a brake on the words that insisted on being spoken, how her heart wanted to have its say after months of being kept in check. ‘I really, really care for you, Laurent.’
She smiled at him in hope, in embarrassment. Waited for him to say something. But instead he looked away from her, frowning. She wanted to cry. She wanted to yell at him. She twisted away from him. Willing him to say something. But they sat in silence, the happy cries from children on the beach washing over them; a swirl of embarrassed anger rose up from her very core and her heart shattered with the pain of feeling so utterly alone and disconnected from the man she was in love with.
* * *
Trying to quell the panic growing inside him, Laurent pulled in one long breath after another. He bunched his hands, self-loathing vying with his panic. ‘This morning was a mistake.’
Hannah’s gaze shot to his. ‘That’s wonderful to hear.’
He exhaled a breath at the sarcasm in her voice, his stomach churning to know he was to blame for all of this. He caught her gaze, gave her a smile of appeasement. ‘You know I didn’t mean it that way.’
She folded her arms. ‘Do I?’
‘After yesterday, we were both feeling emotional. Weddings do that type of thing to people.’
She shifted away from him, towards the edge of the platform, and gave a bitter chuckle. ‘You make it sound like it was sympathy sex.’
He shook his head furiously. ‘When did I say that?’
‘Well, you’re clearly regretting it.’
Taking in the defiant tilt of her head, the heavy emotion in her voice, the hurt in her eyes, he asked gently, his heart heavy with fear, ‘Aren’t you?’
For a moment her expression softened, and her gaze caught his as though pleading with him to understand. But to respond to her, to take her in his arms as he wanted to, would be cruel. He knew what Hannah was trying to say to him. She wanted more from him, from their relationship, than he could ever give.
Her expression hardened again. ‘Well, I’m certainly regretting it now.’
He flinched at her hurt, her anger.
He tried to think straight, to find something to say, but his heart was pounding too hard, his brain a too-confused mess of panicked thoughts. He’d numbed his heart, his expectations, his need for love, for closeness, for trust, for comfort, so long ago, he didn’t know how to open himself up to it all again...or if he ever wanted to.
‘Things are never going to be right between us, are they?’
He barely heard her question, she’d spoken it so quietly. He grimaced and shook his head. Standing, she threw him an infuriated look before diving into the sea.
* * *
Hannah flicked off the shower. Towelled herself dry furiously. Yanked on her underwear and dress. She knew she needed to calm down. The anger inside her frightened her. But as hard as she tried she couldn’t hold it back. It felt as though years and years of repressing herself were spilling out in Laurent’s cold indifference to her telling him what he meant to her. Had he any idea how exposed, how hurt, how embarrassed she felt? Couldn’t he have at least tried to meet her halfway, say something of comfort?
He was out in the living room, showered and changed, when she went there on the way out of the house.
She pulled her suitcase even closer to herself, tightening her grip on the handle. ‘I’ve called a taxi to take me back to my car at the château. There’s no need for you to take me to the airport.’
He gave her a disappointed, almost impatient look.
She gritted her teeth, telling herself to leave here with some dignity, but that pledge lasted all of five seconds because suddenly words were tumbling out of her, words that made her cringe at their neediness and bitterness, words that reminded her that she was her birth parents’ child. She gestured around the room, out towards the beach. ‘Why the hell did you bring me here? What was the point of all this?’
She didn’t wait for him to respond but instead she paced the marble floor and continued, her hands rising to hold her head in disbelief. ‘You know, you make me want to pull my hair out. You�
��re...you’re the most infuriating man.’
She came to a stop, suddenly breathless, her anger gone in those sharp words to be replaced by a tiredness, a confusion that physically hurt in her chest. ‘What we have is good. Isn’t it? Or is it just me being delusional?’ She waited for him to respond. When he didn’t she considered walking out of the door, but something was pushing her to speak from her heart, to explain her feelings and not be ashamed of them. For so long she’d been ashamed of her background, had felt sullied by it, ashamed that her classmates had known her when she had been withdrawn and terrified, ashamed of loving her parents more than her birth parents, ashamed that she was so terrified of so many things in life: dogs, loud knocks on the door, unexplained noises during the night. ‘This morning, when we had sex... I saw how you looked at me. And anyway, it wasn’t sex, was it? We made love, Laurent. I don’t know why I’m saying all of this. I know I’m humiliating myself but I can’t go around pretending that my heart isn’t breaking.’
He buried his head in his hands, rubbing at his skin. When he looked back at her his expression was bewildered. ‘What do you want from me, Hannah?’
Her throat closed over, her legs suddenly weak. ‘For you to be honest with me.’
He walked across the room, came to a stop a few feet away. ‘I’m happy with my life as it is. I can’t offer you any commitment, a long-term relationship. I’ve always told you that.’
His voice was pained, his eyes brimming with confusion. Stupidly she wanted to cry at how alone he seemed. ‘Yes, but why?’
‘I don’t seem to have the capacity for it.’
She laughed at that. ‘That’s such rubbish.’
‘Okay, so we stay together. Maybe even marry, have kids. And then one day one of us grows bored, becomes disappointed in the other person. And we hurt one another.’
‘Not necessarily.’
He turned from her, walked to the doors out to the terrace, stared out towards the beach before turning and asked, ‘Doesn’t it worry you that both of my parents had affairs?’
‘Have you ever been unfaithful before?’
‘No.’
She moved towards him, stepping onto the sea-green rug at the centre of the room, her bare calf touching against the wooden coffee table. ‘Then why do you think that you’ll be unfaithful in the future?’
He threw his head back and inhaled deeply. ‘I’ve never been tested in a relationship, have I? I never dated anyone as long as I dated you. I always ended other relationships within a few months, before they got too serious.’
Thrown, she said, ‘I never knew that.’ Then with another disbelieving laugh she added, ‘You’re even more messed up than me.’
‘Exactly.’
She moved towards him again and asked, ‘Why are you so scared of love? What are you scared of, Laurent?’
He moved away from her, towards the kitchen counter. He opened up the picnic basket and answered, ‘Nothing.’
She followed him and stood beside him. ‘Not being able to love, how cynical you are over marriage because of what your parents did...it all feels like a front for something else you’re hiding.’
He turned and looked at her, bewildered. ‘I’m not hiding anything.’
‘Maybe you’re hiding it even from yourself.’
His eyes narrowed at that. ‘I’m not following what—’
They both jumped at the sound of the intercom ringing.
She looked towards the front door. ‘That will be my taxi.’
He pulled baguettes and cheese and ripe peaches from the basket. ‘Stay. Have something to eat. I’ll drive you to the airport.’
She walked away, grabbed hold of her suitcase.
He stopped her at the doorway. ‘I don’t want us to part like this.’
She stared into the brilliant blue eyes of the man she loved. And answered from her heart. ‘I’ve told you my feelings...you’ve made it clear once again that there’s no future for us.’ She opened the door and, about to step into the bright light of the overhead sun, she turned and said, ‘I hope you find happiness in the future. You deserve it. You just don’t accept that right now.’
CHAPTER TEN
NOT FOR THE first time, Hannah looked blankly at another sales clerk in the airport duty-free who was waving a bottle of perfume and asking if she wanted to try a sample. The woman’s smile faded when Hannah didn’t respond. Realising how rude she must appear, Hannah took hold of the thin strip of sample paper, sniffed, made some appreciative noises before backing away. She felt numb, dumb and empty. And with hours to go before her flight, unable to read, unable to sit still, unable to bear being out in the packed waiting lounge near laughing families and excited couples, she felt as if the duty-free store and its bright colours and promises of contentment via cosmetics and alcohol and chocolate was the only place she could find refuge in.
She moved into a hidden corner that seemed forgotten by both staff and customers and vacantly inspected the stacked rows of lipsticks. She tried to read the improbable names—Moroccan Magic, Cupid’s Bow, All-Nighter—but her brain soon zoned out and she stared at them vacantly.
What she wanted more than anything in the world was to be somehow magically transported back to her apartment. Back to her bedroom with the blinds pulled down.
She picked up a silver eyeshadow. Her mum would love it. Recently her mum and dad had taken up ballroom dancing and her mum liked to wear dramatic make-up for their competitions. Hannah gave a faint smile, a fresh weight of heaviness clogging her throat when she remembered the time she was home visiting for the weekend and they’d arrived back from their first ever dancing competition, proudly announcing that they had come sixth. Hannah had clapped in delight. And then her parents had laughed and admitted that there had only been six couples in their category. They hadn’t cared that they had come last. For them, taking part, dancing together, was all that mattered. They had been so animated in recalling the night and some of the extremes some of the couples had gone to to psych out their competition, finishing off each other’s stories and sentences without even realising it. They loved each other so much. And never took that love for granted.
Hannah popped the eyeshadow in the small net shopping basket she’d picked up at the entrance, and realised it wasn’t her apartment she’d choose to be transported to should a genie appear and grant her one wish. It was in fact her parents’ house. There she might shake off the awful emptiness inside her through their calm and undemanding warmth and love. She wanted to be loved.
But she couldn’t go home. Her parents, her mum especially, would notice her upset. And the last thing she wanted to do was worry her parents even more than they already were about her. They tried to hide it but even as a child she’d been aware of them studying her closer than they did Emily and Cora, more easily forgiving when she did something wrong. Now they worried over her lack of a relationship. They had never said anything but their delight and obvious relief when she’d told them that she was bringing Laurent home to meet them had said it all.
She wandered into the aftershave section. Was there something wrong with her? Was that why he couldn’t love her? Was she too needy, too clingy, not pretty enough? Was it her background? Was the truth behind all his reasons for not wanting commitment the fact that he was waiting to meet someone from his own privileged background?
She eyed a familiar-shaped bottle of aftershave. Told herself to move away. But like an addict needing a hit, she lifted the lid and sprayed some onto her wrist. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the woody, musky scent. Laurent’s aftershave. He never wore anything else. She blinked hard, a dense lump forming in her throat.
She didn’t know what Laurent found lacking in her, but she could certainly identify one area of weakness—her judgement. How could she have allowed herself to get so tangled up with him again? She’d walked through this airport only three days ago
determined that she was over him and was going to be nothing but professional and emotionally detached around him.
She’d made a complete mess of things. She moved into the alcohol section but even looking at the bottles made her queasy. Especially when she spotted the distinct blue-and-gold labels of Bonneval Cognac. She snatched her gaze away, a fresh wave of disbelief washing over her.
Had today really happened? First she’d asked him to sleep with her. Then to make love to her. Then later she’d more or less told him she loved him. Yip. Her judgement sucked.
She lingered by the confectionery section waiting for the embarrassment radiating from her cheeks to subside and trying not to give in to the temptation to buy a super-sized bar of chocolate, before approaching the checkout. Showing her boarding card to the cashier, she bought the silver eyeshadow.
She had a choice. Feel numb and dumb for the foreseeable future or try to pretend this weekend never happened. For her own sanity, she knew she needed to do the latter.
Finding a seat amongst a group of pensioners sitting at a gate displaying a Rome departure destination, she pulled out her phone and deleted Laurent’s number and then, as quickly as her fingers allowed, every image of him in her picture gallery. Then, logging into the airport Wi-Fi, she began to research wedding celebrants in the Granada area of Spain.
* * *
Sitting in the boardroom of Bonneval Cognac, his father to one side, Nicolas Couilloud on the other, Laurent tried and failed to focus on the conversation of the two other men, who were arguing over the details of a five-year-old contract, which both were aggrieved about. He closed his eyes to the migraine lurking behind there.
‘Laurent, is everything okay?’
He opened his eyes to Nicolas’s terse question.
Second Chance with the Best Man Page 13