Chapter 20 #2
‘Some do begin like that,’ she agreed. ‘Because a friend is someone whose company makes the world a better place to exist in. A close friend is someone you love and you care very much about their life and their health and happiness. It’s someone who makes you feel that your company does the same thing for them – that it adds something special to their life. ’
‘I still don’t see the difference.’ There was a note of disappointment in his voice. ‘That’s exactly what you want in a life partner, isn’t it?’
Tilly bit her lip. Was this conversation going to lead to him telling her that they were no more than good friends?
That they would never be more than that?
But she couldn’t be less than honest with Angus because it felt as if he’d always been honest with her.
That he was talking about aspects of life that he might not have even thought of discussing with anyone else.
‘You need to be in love with the person you want to spend your life with,’ she said softly.
‘Not just friends. Being in love has all of those things but it’s on a very different level.
’ She looked up to catch, and hold, his gaze.
‘That’s when the company of that person doesn’t just make life better – being with them is life. ’
Oh, mon Dieu… How on earth had this conversation become so heavy?
Tilly was feeling the words she was uttering with all her heart – the way she had when she was trying to explain why romance mattered so much, when they were standing in the shadow of the L’Envol sculpture.
Even so, she couldn’t help adding a little more, albeit in just a whisper.
‘It’s being truly alive. Wanting to live forever so that you can have that long with the person you love. ’
Not only was she feeling these words so acutely but they came with the extra kick of a chaser – the sinking sensation that more heartbreak than she had bargained for might well be sneaking up behind her, waiting to pounce.
She had to stop this before it got any more painful. Before she ended up confessing how she felt about Angus. She shook her head, getting to her feet, in an attempt to dilute the intensity.
‘I need to go and cook the tagliatelle,’ she said. ‘I think this wine is going straight to my head.’
* * *
The beef stroganoff was the best Angus had ever tasted.
They ate out on the terrace as the light faded enough to necessitate lighting the candle on the table so that they could see what they were eating.
He still hadn’t wound down completely.
He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he’d had an intense afternoon’s work.
Someone else enrolled in the drug trial was showing the same early symptoms of headache and nausea as the person who’d been admitted to hospital for observation.
Worse, that first patient was showing neurological symptoms now, with some unsteadiness on his feet and difficulty finding words. A CT scan was being organised.
It was Angus’s role to stand back and see the big picture, letting the people responsible for monitoring clinical data, risk identification and media attention do their jobs and report back to him.
He had, however, been the one to raise the elephant in the room about whether the trial needed to be shut down immediately, but the chief medical officer at Novaryn Pharmaceuticals was pushing back, insisting that there was no clear evidence that the issue was drug related.
In fact, there was evidence to suggest it wasn’t, because this volunteer had a family history of stroke that hadn’t been disclosed when he enrolled for the trial.
Angus had been reminded that he was being employed to assess reputational, not clinical, risk and that the stakes involved in pulling the plug on the development of a drug that had been subjected to years of expert supervision and the investment of many millions of dollars were extremely high.
The tension of this evolving situation in his professional life was something Angus knew he could handle.
What he wasn’t so sure of being able to dismiss was that disconcerting bubble of anxiety deep in his gut that had formed the moment he’d realised his relationship with Tilly was far deeper than he’d ever intended – with anyone.
That his layer of emotional protection had completely failed.
That, if he stopped ignoring the need to examine what was inside that bubble, he was going to have to accept his earlier conclusion that he was, by any definition, in love with Tilly.
How could it be anything else when he’d discovered that her safety mattered that much? Far more than his own.
And it was… disturbing. Alarming, even. He’d found himself watching her footing like a hawk on the way down that mountain, his hand ready to catch hers at the slightest hint of her balance wobbling, driven by a fear that she could be injured – or potentially lost…
No. He wasn’t going to think about it now, either.
If he could ignore it maybe he could start to feel safe again. Repair those protective walls, even.
Angus wanted to enjoy this delicious meal.
And the pleasant distraction of listening to Tilly chattering happily about her plans for the photo shoot she wanted to do on the summit of the Baou des Blancs when her friend Luc was available.
She had been thinking about the best time of day, the best angles for photography and what the perfect weather might be, along with a surprising number of other details that had to be decided.
‘I’ll have to get hold of Clara and Antoine and make sure they’re still happy to do it,’ she said as they were finishing their meal.
‘And think about what Clara should be wearing. I don’t want anything floaty and romantic.
No clichés at all. This needs to be different – to make people think that A Promise in Provence is not the same as every other business doing this kind of event planning.
I want it to be more… audacieuse. I don’t know the word I want. Bold?’
‘Edgy?’
‘Yes… that’s better.’ Tilly was nodding. ‘And I’ll have to find a ring, too. One that’s big enough to be seen so that, even if it’s not classically romantic, it will be obvious what’s happening.’
But Angus wasn’t listening now.
‘A ring…’ he echoed. And then the reason why his attention had latched on to the word hit him. ‘Oh, my God.’
A new level of tension joined the odd sensation that still hadn’t vanished from his gut. This time it was a band around his chest, making it noticeably more of an effort to suck in a breath.
He got to his feet, swiftly enough to make Tilly’s head jerk up in surprise.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The ring,’ he said.
‘What ring?’
‘The ring I put in my pocket. The one I was going to propose to Moira with. I’d completely forgotten about it.
’ Talk about denial. In retrospect it was easy to see that the memory loss had been deliberate.
Angus felt slightly ill. ‘I never got round to making sure it was insured. I hope I haven’t lost it. ’
‘Why would it be lost? Where did you put it before you came to France?’
‘That’s the thing,’ Angus said. ‘I didn’t take it out of my pocket. It’s been in the jacket I’ve been wearing ever since I bought it. That blue one. It could have fallen out anywhere.’
He strode into the little stone house. To the chair by the dining table where he’d draped the linen blend jacket over the back. He had his hand in the inside pocket of the jacket as he walked back out to the terrace where Tilly was staring at him, her eyes wide.
He dropped the jacket as he sat down, having pulled out the slim suede envelope that he’d chosen at the jeweller’s, rather than the traditional velvet box, to disguise the fact that it was in his jacket pocket and allow the proposal to be a wonderful surprise.
He was the one being surprised by it now.
How ironic was that?
He opened the soft pouch and shook the ring out onto the palm of his hand. The beautiful oval diamond that instantly flashed in the flicker of candlelight. Even the impossibly small diamonds that made up the band were sparkling.
‘Oh…’ Tilly pressed her fingers against her lips. ‘That is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen in my life.’
‘But what am I going to do with it?’
Angus held his palm out to Tilly, and she picked up the ring, holding it closer to the candle and turning it to catch countless more flickers of light.
‘Should I see if the jeweller will take it back?’ he asked. ‘Or sell it and advertise my failure?’
‘You haven’t failed anything,’ Tilly said. ‘You weren’t in love with Moira, so she was not the right person for you. She’s never even seen this ring. You were the one to choose it, so maybe it represents what you wanted in your future, not who.’
Angus was still absorbing what she’d said about Moira.
He hadn’t been in love with her. He hadn’t had anything like this tension that was making him feel as if he was fighting to keep control over his own body and thoughts, let alone anything else in his private life.
Everything had been planned. Chosen. Under control, right down to the last curated romantic detail and an appropriately eye-catching piece of jewellery.
Lacking in passion, certainly, but that had been chosen as well. Because it was a good thing.
Safe.
‘And it really is the most beautiful engagement ring I’ve ever seen,’ Tilly added.
‘I think you should keep it. I think you should give it to the woman you do fall in love with. The woman you want to spend the rest of your life with. The woman who’ll be just as much in love with you…
’ Tilly’s voice was fading as she held the ring out to give back to him.
She cleared her throat but her words were still soft.
‘She’s out there, Angus, and you’ll find her and… and she’s going to adore this ring.’
He didn’t take it.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I know so.’