Chapter 31
“Do you want me to take your Clio to étienne’s so he can fit the new tires?” I ask Mellie later that same afternoon when we’re back at home.
I’m supposed to be seeing him tomorrow, but that feels like ages away.
“The garage isn’t open on Saturday afternoons,” she points out. “But it’s fine, I can do it on Monday. You’ve got enough to worry about.”
“I don’t mind. I thought I might go and say hi to him anyway.” This would give me the perfect excuse.
She glances at me and sees it written all over my face. “Ah. Okay then. Thanks, that would be great.” She purses her lips as she gets up for her keys.
I’ve never been more transparent than with my own grandmother.
I concentrate on driving on the right side of the road as I wind down the mountain toward the garage.
The doors are closed so I pull up on the forecourt and wander down the driveway toward étienne’s apartment.
I soon see that his car is missing so I turn around and drag myself back up the hill to Mellie’s little blue Clio.
Once inside, I lean over the steering wheel and rest my forehead on my hands.
What am I doing? He’s agreed to see me tomorrow. Why am I here today?
I have his little Michelin Man badge with me and I wanted to give it to him, but couldn’t it wait?
I’m getting too invested. Lise told me to beware of his feelings, but what about mine?
With a heavy sigh, I sit up and grab my phone.
I tap out a text to him: Can I leave Mellie’s car on the forecourt for you to change the tires on Monday?
I wait a couple of minutes and when he doesn’t reply, I text Jackson: I can go for a drink after all if you still fancy it? He’d suggested it on the way home from Aiguèze.
I’d love to! he replies. Where?
La Terrasse? Just dropped Mellie’s car at the garage.
The restaurant is closer to this end of town, so it’s an easy walk for both of us.
I leave the Clio on the forecourt and text étienne to tell him what I’ve done. Hope that’s ok, I add. I’m going to La Terrasse and I’d like to walk home. I’ll put the keys through your letterbox.
Just as I’m locking the car, he replies and my pulse skips: Hang on to the keys. I’ll come by and pick them up.
I heart the comment.
Jackson beats me to the restaurant. He’s waiting on the pavement opposite Thermalisme, his family’s spa hotel. “Are we eating or just doing drinks?”
“I’m pretty full from lunch, but maybe something light.”
“If we eat we can sit on the terrace,” he points out.
“Okay, let’s eat. I’ll just go and say hi to Lise.”
When I come back outside, he’s at a table for two and the same middle-aged waitress who served us a few weeks ago is lighting the candle.
“My favorite couple,” she says genially in English as I sit down.
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” I reply dismissively as Jackson smiles up at her.
“No?” She looks surprised.
As does Jackson. I’ve never before felt the need to correct someone who’s jumped to that conclusion.
I shake my head. “No, we’re just friends.”
“But you look so beautiful together!”
“I know. I’ve been telling him that for years, but he’s not having it,” I say flippantly. “Broke my heart, he did.”
She tuts at Jackson as she walks off. It’s quite funny.
He pulls a face at me. “Thanks for that. Now I’m the bad guy.”
I laugh.
“Broke your heart,” he scoff-mutters.
I’m feeling uncharacteristically reckless. “Come on, you know you did. You came to Mellie’s the day after your wedding and gave me that pity hug,” I remind him.
“It wasn’t a pity hug,” he replies with alarm.
I have a surreal moment when I realize that we’re having this conversation, but I’m suddenly done with dancing round the bush.
“You said, ‘I’m so sorry.’ You knew you’d hurt me. Because you knew I loved you.”
He stares at me. The fairy lights strung from the trellis are reflected in his eyes. His shoulders drop and he looks crushed as he reaches across the table.
I move my hand away. “Don’t.”
“Grace.” He sounds torn.
It’s the first time he’s ever called me Grace.
Suddenly I feel like both our masks have slipped, leaving us raw and exposed. It’s too much.
“Anyway, that ship has sailed, my friend,” I force myself to say lightly.
The waitress comes back with the bottle Jackson ordered, plus a glass of ice. “Lise asked me to bring this out to you,” she says, indicating the ice.
“Aw, thank you.” I blow Lise a kiss through the window and then I give the waitress my brightest smile as she pours the wine.
As soon as she’s left us to it, I chance a glance at Jackson. He’s looking dazed.
My head spins as I realize what I’ve done. I’ve opened a whole can of worms and they’re in my stomach squirming.
“étienne’s swinging by in a bit to pick up Mellie’s car keys,” I say.
He comes to with a start. “Let’s order some food then.”
The last thing I feel like is food. But there’s no going back now.
I glance toward the river and see étienne walking across the pedestrian bridge with his friend Dion at his side. He spots me as he reaches the terrace, giving me a smile that instantly settles my nerves.
“Salut,” I say, standing up.
He touches his hand to my waist as he gives me two perfunctory kisses and then he shakes Jackson’s hand, moving aside so Dion can also greet me.
Dion grabs a vacant chair from the next table and spins it into place between Jackson and me.
“I’ll get us a drink,” étienne says as Dion goes in search of another chair. He calls out something to Dion in French and Dion replies, “Bière.”
Dion returns and sits down.
“Where have you two come from?” I ask.
“étienne was helping me move into my new apartment,” he replies, wriggling on his seat to pull something out of his back pocket. “This is for your grandmother.”
It’s a tiny red-and-white rally car on a key ring. “It’s so cool!,” I coo.
Dion leans in close and points at the roof. “I signed it for her.”
“You had to do the smallest handwriting!”
“I know,” he replies with a chuckle.
“Thank you so much,” I say as étienne walks back outside.
He passes Dion a beer, retaining one for himself, and then he drags his chair closer to mine and sits down, slinging his arm around my shoulders.
I breathe in sharply and turn to look at him in surprise. Is he playing?
“?a va?” he asks quietly, his eyes half hidden behind several dark curls. He leans in and presses a kiss to my mouth.
My lips fizz as though I’ve been drinking Eau de Sainte églantine.
I feel Jackson’s eyes on us. I try my hardest not to glance his way, but I can’t help it. He looks stunned.
“What do you think of the key ring?” étienne asks.
“Mellie’s going to love it. Thank you. Oh! I’ve got something for you, actually,” I say as I remember. He lifts his arm as I grab my bag from under the table, pulling the pin badge out of the inside zip pocket.
“Where did you find this?” he asks with a smile as he takes the tiny Michelin Man.
“At Aiguèze in an antique shop. We went there today.”
“Who? You and Mellie?”
I nod. “And Jackson, his mum, and Albert.”
Jackson glances over at the mention of his name. He and Dion had been talking about the Tour de France—it’s the final stage tomorrow.
“Merci,” he says. “It’s cute.” He meets my eyes again, and then he reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear.
I still don’t know if we’re playing.
But I suddenly want so badly for it to be real.
I lift my hand up and brush the curls out of his eyes. The tiny scar on his eyebrow is revealed. I trace my thumb over it and he flinches and drags his fingers through his hair to set his curls back in place. He reaches for his beer.
Okay, so he didn’t like that.
I awkwardly pick up my wine. He takes a swig of his beer, places the bottle down on the table, and then he takes my free hand and moves it to his lap, giving it a gentle squeeze before he reaches for his beer again.
Jackson can’t even see the hand that’s under the table.
But I still have no idea if we’re playing.
The four of us sit and chat and order a couple of sharing platters for the table and another round of drinks. Every so often, étienne rests his hand on top of mine. And the feeling that I had in Mellie’s car earlier—of getting invested—increases.
I really like him.
“Are we still going to Les Saules tomorrow?” I ask when Jackson and Dion are distracted.
“If you want to,” he replies.
“What jobs are next on the list?”
He hesitates. “I wondered about boxing some things up.” He’s talking about his mum’s belongings.
“I can help you with that,” I offer softly.
He smiles and then he bends down to kiss my collarbone. My breath catches.
“Get a room!” Dion calls from the other side of the table.
étienne raises his head and smirks at him. I look at Jackson. He’s glaring at étienne. étienne meets Jackson’s eyes. Three seconds pass. I squeeze étienne’s leg and he jerks, breaking out of his stare-off to look at me.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” he asks.
His arm is still hooked around my neck, but now he runs his fingertips along my throat. His pupils are dilated.
I nod.
“I’ll get the bill.”
Jackson jolts with alarm as étienne stands up and strides inside.
“We’re going back to his,” I say.
His brow furrows as he looks at me.
étienne returns and shakes his head as I get out my purse. “I’ve paid. We can go.”
“How much was it?” Jackson asks with a frown, retrieving his wallet.
“It’s fine, all sorted,” étienne replies.
“Let me give you some money,” Jackson insists.
“It’s fine.” étienne repeats as I get to my feet and sling my bag over my shoulder.
Dion’s nonplussed; he’s finding the back-and-forth entertaining.
Jackson stands up and leaves a fifty-euro note on the table, declaring that the waitress can have it as a tip. Then he bypasses étienne to give me a hug.
“Come over tomorrow?” he asks in my ear.
I pull back a little to meet his eyes. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Swim?” He gives me a meaningful look.
I nod. “Maybe in the afternoon.”
“Okay.” He presses a kiss to my cheek and holds out his hand to étienne.
They give each other a hard stare as they shake. Jackson’s farewell to Dion is markedly friendlier.
étienne follows me out onto the pavement. He leans over and sniffs my neck, then retreats with a scowl.
“What?” I ask with alarm.
“You smell of his aftershave.”
I think I might have just witnessed a battle of alpha males.