Chapter 14 #3
“But you don’t think there’s someone special for you?”
“I’ve grown up surrounded by adult relationships that didn’t really work.”
“Your parents?”
“Among others. My mother and father were always very loving, but . . . it didn’t end particularly well.
” She swallowed hard. She did not want her voice to start trembling, and she couldn’t go into the details.
One detail always led to another, and telling Didrik her entire story was out of the question. This wasn’t a therapy session.
“But you’re happy living alone?” he asked.
“I don’t feel as if I’m living alone.” She smiled. “At the moment I’m actually living in my sister’s apartment, with her and my mom. A slightly unconventional intergenerational arrangement.”
“Do you enjoy living with them?”
“Would you want to move back in with your mom?”
“Not a chance.”
“Being with them during a fairly tumultuous time has been good, but now I’m looking forward to moving back into my own place.
I’ve given my tenant notice, so it won’t be too much longer now.
” The payment she’d already received from the production company plus the money she had saved during her time at Rendezvous meant that she had enough to live alone at last. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“A brother. Who is about to become a father. I’m going to be an uncle.”
“Fantastic—congratulations!”
He smiled proudly. “It feels huge!”
“Becoming an aunt would be a dream. Unfortunately, my sister has already found the love of her life—her business. It’s hard to imagine that she’d be able to sustain a relationship for any longer than Elnaz’s colleagues can run a production without her.”
“By that you mean she’s never had a relationship that’s lasted past afternoon tea?”
“Kind of.” Hanna had been with one guy for almost a year, but he had ended it because she worked too much. Then she had dated a woman quite seriously for a while, but Hanna had decided she couldn’t cope with having to send messages and keep in touch.
“All the anxiety, all the misunderstandings that have to be sorted out before everything is okay again.” He shook his head slowly.
“Is that what I can expect if I start dating again?” He looked at Bente and sighed.
“Maybe it’s better to try to stay in the present?
Right now I’m sitting in a bar in Paris, talking to an interesting woman. ”
Had his knee just brushed against hers? She felt as if an electric shock had surged through her body, her heart was racing. She felt her face burning—from the wine, from the heat in the room, from Didrik’s proximity.
She took a deep breath. “Shall we drink to that?”
He raised his glass, met her gaze. Then smiled. “You’re . . . unexpected, somehow.”
“Unexpected?”
“Yes . . . I don’t know . . . but I’m enjoying talking to you.”
“Perhaps that’s because you’ve lived a regimented life as a married man for the past few years, spending your evenings drinking tea and looking forward to the excitement of a new British crime series on TV . . .”
He laughed. “Marriage can be more exciting than that. And you’re forgetting that I work in TV; it’s very fast-paced and you meet all kinds of people.
Who find themselves interesting, at least, even if no one else does.
” He paused, seemed to be gathering himself.
“But I mean what I said. I think you’re interesting.
I recognize myself in you, your passion for wine. ”
“Same. You’re . . . interesting too.” And absolutely gorgeous. She hardly dared move, he was so close. At that moment her phone buzzed and she picked it up. Frederic. She quickly rejected the call.
“Let me guess—Frederic?”
Bente raised her eyebrows. “Frederic, yes.”
“So what’s the story with you two?”
She told him about meeting Frederic in Paris, about him being her tutor when she was training to be a sommelier.
“We started dating. He showed me the city.” She was turning her glass around and around as she talked.
“I fell in love and he broke my heart.” She finished her wine.
“When we saw each other today, I realized I’m too old for men like him. ”
Didrik nodded and gave a faint smile. There was clearly some satisfaction in that smile, the same one Camille wore when she tasted a really fruity Shiraz from the New World—her “guilty pleasure” wine.
That smile made Bente’s heart beat even faster.
There were plenty of people out and about on this Parisian spring evening. The streetlamps along their route back to the hotel looked like a necklace of glowing beads. They were surrounded by the typical hum of a big city, the typical hum of Paris.
They stopped outside the hotel.
Didrik glanced around and began to laugh, then he looked deep into her eyes.
“What?” Bente was confused. “Is something wrong?”
Didrik didn’t answer. He leaned toward her . . . and wiped something off her cheek.
There was silence all around them, as if the world was holding its breath.
The crémant they had drunk, the red wine, the good food, all those spices, the shimmering lights all around them, the smells of the city—she almost felt dizzy. Or was it his closeness that was to blame?
What if he kissed her? What would she do? Kiss him back? They were colleagues. And he was in the middle of a divorce.
As if he could read her mind, he looked away and turned toward the door. They walked inside.
“Tomorrow will be exciting,” he said, as if nothing had happened.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“By the way, I booked a meeting with a military historian for tomorrow. Apparently she knows a lot about the French Foreign Legion.”
Bente stopped in her tracks. What had he just said? He’d booked a meeting? Wasn’t she the one who was supposed to be running the production side of things—or had she misunderstood? He’d taken the meeting with the man who ran the blog on the Foreign Legion, and now this.
“Okay . . . When did you do that?”
“Sometime last week.”
“And can we fit it in tomorrow?”
“Yes, around lunchtime. Elnaz thought it sounded great when I mentioned it to her.”
“Did she. And when did the two of you discuss it?” God, she sounded difficult—she could hear it in her voice. Was she overreacting? Was it arrogant to think that everything should go through her? After all, Didrik was the star of the show.
“I don’t remember—I think we did it via email.” He looked warily at her. “I just wanted to help out.”
They had reached the elevator. She turned to him.
“Thanks, but I can handle the show myself.” She forced a smile. “See you tomorrow.” She left him standing by the elevator and headed for the stairs.
When she reached her room, she slammed the door behind her.
What had just happened? Had she reacted too strongly?
They’d had a fantastic evening. Didrik was nicer than she’d thought, and somewhere deep down she knew that his taking the initiative with aspects of the show was a sign of his commitment.
Of course she wanted him to be fully involved.
But he was already the natural star. He would obviously take the lead role when the show was launched.
But now? No. The whole thing was her idea.
Couldn’t she at least be the one to pull the strings when it came to the production?
With a sigh, she went over to the balcony, opened the doors, and stepped outside. She thought about the bar, the wine, the heat. And about Didrik’s knee touching hers. The look that had been in his eyes. She hadn’t been imagining things.
She went back inside and slammed the balcony doors.
Had she made a fool of herself?