Chapter Ten
AN HOUR AND a half later, Jack and Sylvie were dining in an exclusive restaurant a short walk from their hotel.
Jack held up his glass towards hers. ‘I propose a toast. Let’s not talk about work but only about ourselves.
I want to hear about your childhood. You’ve heard plenty about mine but I know virtually nothing about yours. ’
Sylvie held her own glass up to clink against his, but her thoughts were in turmoil.
She hated talking about her past life. She had moved so far away from her childhood circumstances it was like it had happened to a different person.
In many ways, she was a different person.
She had morphed into the person she needed to be to survive in the competitive field of law.
‘O-kay,’ she said. ‘No talking about work.’
‘What’s your first memory?’ Jack asked.
Sylvie screwed up her forehead, filtering through a host of unpleasant memories looking for one sanitised enough to share. ‘We once went camping in the Lake District and it rained solidly the whole time. I was four. We never went camping again.’
Jack grimaced as if the thought of all that rain and sleeping in tents was anathema to him given his wealthy background.
‘My first memory is when my mother brought home Jago after he was born. There’s two years between each of us.
I know you’re not supposed to remember anything much before you’re about three, but apparently I was excited to be having a brother and when I first saw him, he was all wizened up like an old man, and he did nothing but cry.
I was bitterly disappointed. But maybe my parents told me how I reacted and it’s not really a memory.
’ His expression became shadowed, and a dart hit Sylvie in the heart.
Jack’s earlier frown made her wonder if his normally lighthearted approach to life was to cover his deep sense of loss.
His laugh was deep and melodious, and it was impossible not to want to hear it again and again and yet she wanted to hear his true feelings about his childhood too.
‘What about when Jonas came along? Were you disappointed in him too?’
A ghost of worry floated through his gaze before he reset his expression into one of relaxed enjoyment at sharing childhood memories.
‘Well, I was four by then and a bit more aware of how it would impact on me having not one but two younger brothers. Although Jonas was a quieter baby. He slept a lot and kept to himself, even as a toddler.’
‘I would’ve loved a brother or sister,’ Sylvie said, putting her wine glass down and flicking him a quick upwards glance. ‘I think it would have made my life a little easier during my parents’ divorce.’
‘Tell me about how that was for you.’
‘You sound like a relationships counsellor.’
Jack’s eyes grew soft and caring. ‘I was aiming more for a concerned friend.’
Sylvie arched her brows. ‘Are we friends or just lovers?’ She picked her wine glass up again and continued, ‘I mean, once we end this, I can hardly see us exchanging pleasantries if we run into each other.’ She took a sip of her wine before he answered.
‘It doesn’t have to be that way.’
Her look was still sceptical. ‘Are you on speaking terms with your hundreds of ex-lovers?’
‘Although I’ve lost count, I can assure you it’s not in the hundreds.’
Sylvie shrugged as if it didn’t bother her either way.
‘Break-ups are hard the longer people stay together. My parents were married seemingly happily for ten years and then suddenly my father left. My mother was utterly devastated. She didn’t see it coming.
She was blindsided and heartbroken and it took her until very recently to get over it. ’
‘And you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Were you devastated?’
Sylvie moved her lips from side to side, not sure she wanted to reveal her feelings about that time.
But then she thought of how devastated Jack and his brothers must have been after their parents were killed, so she decided to tell him.
Death was much harder to deal with than divorce, although some would beg to differ.
‘I didn’t have the space to examine my feelings because my mother was so shattered.
I had to be strong for her. I had to step up and take control because she was an emotional mess for months on end.
Years actually.’ She paused for a moment, and Jack reached across the table and took her free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze of comfort and support.
She lifted her gaze to his and continued with a scratchy voice, ‘My father loved me until he didn’t.
Or maybe he never loved me or my mum. Maybe he wasn’t capable of it.
He certainly gave us a good impression of it at the time though.
But then he disappeared from our lives and never fought to see me.
He remarried and had another family, but I have no desire to see him or my step-siblings. ’
‘I don’t blame you. What a jerk some men can be.’
Sylvie pulled her hand away from Jack’s, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to feeling.
She so rarely spoke of her background, even her friends and work colleagues knew only the basics, but with Jack she had felt comfortable to reveal more than she ever had before, which was weird because he wasn’t exactly the stay-forever-in-a-relationship type of guy.
What would he know of love and commitment and loyalty for life?
‘Hey.’ Jack’s voice was soft but deep, calling for her to look at him.
Sylvie lifted her gaze back to his and her chest fluttered like a hummingbird was trapped in each of her heart valves. How could she resist him when he was so caring, so interested in her life’s story?
‘Has your father ever reached out to you?’
‘No and I wouldn’t see him if he did. He nearly destroyed my mother just so he could have his freedom. I can never forgive him for that.’
‘Divorce brings out the worst in some people and the best in others,’ Jack said.
‘I think my grandmother would’ve divorced my grandfather if it hadn’t been for my parents’ death.
She was trapped by looking after us. She made the most of it, of course, because that’s the type of person she is—she always puts others before her own needs. ’
‘She sounds like an amazing grandmother.’
Jack gave a crooked smile. ‘Yeah, she’s one of the best, but don’t tell her or she’ll get a big head and be unbearable like my grandfather.’
‘Like I said, when would I ever meet her?’ Sylvie asked. ‘It’s not as if you’re going to introduce me to your family.’
There was a pulsing silence.
Sylvie could see a host of micro expressions move over his face—the flicker of his gaze, the tightening of his jaw, the deep swallow that made his Adam’s apple rise and fall.
He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something but then he clamped it shut again.
He picked up his wine glass and took a small sip, then placed the glass back on the table with a definitive thump.
‘First hobby,’ he said, changing the subject so abruptly Sylvie sat staring at him blankly for a beat or two.
‘Erm… I used to press flowers. My mother showed me how to do it with baking paper and a thick book. I didn’t have a proper flower press. I’d pick the blooms on my walk home from school. I think I did it because we didn’t have a garden of our own.’
‘And you longed for one?’
Sylvie met his searching gaze. ‘I hated the complex we lived in. The police were there nearly every day for a domestic violence episode or a fight between rival drug gangs. It certainly wasn’t an ideal place for a small child but my mother did her best to keep a roof over our heads.’
‘Your mum sounds as wonderful as my gran.’
‘I’d introduce you to her but then she’d think we were in love.’
Another beat or two of intense silence.
‘Why would she think that?’ His tone was mild but his gaze was suddenly intense.
‘I’ve never introduced a partner to her before.’
A frown dug a trench between his eyes. ‘How long have any of your relationships lasted?’
Sylvie gave him a pointed look. ‘How long have any of yours lasted?’
Jack rubbed a hand over the light stubble on his jaw. ‘None have lasted as long as you and I have.’ His voice was deep and did strange fluttering things to the floor of her belly.
‘Do you think we should end it after we leave Paris?’ Sylvie asked in what she hoped was an indifferent, I-don’t-care-either-way tone.
‘No. We’ve managed to stay under the radar so far.
And we’re both having a good time, aren’t we?
’ His eyes glinted at her meaningfully and a hot shiver rolled down her spine.
He made sure she had a good time. She couldn’t remember anyone making her feel as good as he did.
And no, she didn’t want it to end, but neither did she want to be caught in a compromising position given Jack was her client’s husband’s lawyer in one of the most acrimonious divorces of her legal career.
‘I wouldn’t have come with you if I wasn’t having a good time, Jack,’ Sylvie said in a soft voice.
Jack reached for one of her hands and cupped it in his.
He stroked the back of it with the broad span of his thumb, a mesmerising caress that made it hard for her to think clearly.
His touch was like a match to tinder, lighting spot fires all through her flesh, the molten heat stirring her pulse into overdrive.
‘I know how cheesy this is going to sound, especially from me, but I can’t think of a person I’ve enjoyed being with more than you,’ Jack said, holding her gaze.