Chapter 12
12
The pretty embossed white card was lying on Noah Dufour’s desk.
He blew out a long cloud of smoke and reached for his glass of red wine.
Donc … he’d known that Ellie Gilchrist had become engaged to Julien Rousseau, but now the wedding date had been formally announced and it was a lot sooner than Noah had expected.
He was delighted to be invited both to the religious part of the ceremony in the church and also to the repas de noce – the wedding meal, which was only for the close friends and families of the couple. The time he’d spent with both Ellie and Julien over the course of finalising the sale of La Maisonette had resulted in an easy friendship between the men after they’d bonded over a shared interest in the old Citro?n 2CV . Julien had learned to drive in one, his first car, when he was only fifteen years old. He’d taught Ellie to drive what she called the ‘tin snail’. They planned to keep this little car forever, and Noah suspected that was because it was a symbol of the obvious and deep love they had for each other.
It would be a pleasure to watch them make their promises for a lifetime of happiness together but…
…but this meant that Laura would be coming back to France for another visit.
And Noah wasn’t sure that he was quite as delighted about that.
Oh, he wanted to see her. He had no doubt about that. He wanted it so much there were loud alarm bells ringing. Which was why he’d waited until he was alone in his office to think about this properly. To decide whether it was wise to RSVP in the affirmative.
He was still missing her.
He had expected to feel her absence after such an intense time together on her last visit. He had expected to end up with some fond memories that he could look back on – as he had with many past liaisons. What he had not expected was to still feel a pull that was not showing any signs of a normal fading process.
He’d barely texted in the weeks since the final business matters to do with the sale of the property had been concluded. He’d sent a photo he’d taken of Ellie and Julien, looking as besotted with each other as any new lovers should, the day he’d learned of their engagement and turned up with a bottle of champagne to celebrate the news. He’d received a single heart emoji by way of acknowledgement but, since then, there had been a noticeable silence that he had chosen not to break.
Because it was time to move on.
Past time, in fact.
Why was he finding it so difficult? Why did he feel a connection to Laura that he’d never experienced before?
He knew the answers to those questions. He knew them off by heart because he’d thought of them so often. Not on purpose, of course. They were just there. All the time. Waiting to ambush him when he was least expecting it.
He could still feel the shock of seeing her eyes fill with tears as she stood in front of that painting of a mother and baby, and how he’d realised he could see through barriers he was only too familiar with to a woman who’d forgotten – or maybe she’d never truly met – the person she really was.
His dreams still reminded him of every touch of making love to Laura and the extraordinary pleasure he’d got from sharing what he was quite sure had been her first time to experience l’émerveillement of ultimate sexual satisfaction.
He could still see the delight of a dream coming true when she was standing in that field of lavender but, most of all, he could still feel the glow of those small candles in that chapel on the cliff towering over Moustiers. A glow that had somehow seeped right inside his body – inside his soul – as he felt her empathy. She knew his story and understood exactly why he could never allow someone to get past the barriers he’d built to keep his heart safe for the rest of his life.
They’d had so little time together and yet she knew him better than anyone else on earth.
Did she miss him anything like as much as he was missing her?
If she didn’t, maybe seeing her again would be all that he needed to consign these disturbingly compelling memories to a mental vault that would no longer be a problem.
If she did, maybe another brève rencontre would be all that he needed to break the spell.
Especially at a wedding.
It might be the best wake-up call Noah could have devised. A complete cure.
He reached for his pen and the small card he needed to post back to respond to the invitation. He filled in his name and then ticked the first answer to the question of whether he would be able to attend.
OUI. Avec plaisir.