Chapter 38
We’ve only just walked back inside when we hear a car pull up. étienne glances at me and then goes to the door. I follow him and he opens it in time to see a blue BMW parked beyond his Peugeot.
I stare in horror at the sight of Jackson and his mother in the two front seats.
“No,” étienne says firmly, and then he slams the door.
I look at him with alarm as he stalks down the corridor and turns to go up the stairs.
“étienne!” I call out.
“No. No, Grace,” he calls back. “You deal with them.”
This is the second time he’s reminded me of a child today, but that’s clearly how Sandrine makes him feel.
When I open the door again, Sandrine is on the doorstep, Jackson hovering behind her.
I feel a sudden rush of fury, despising her for what she’s done.
“What are you doing here?” I ask coldly.
“Please, Gracie,” she says. “I want to see him.”
“He doesn’t want to see you, Sandrine.” I’m over trying to be in her club.
“I need to apologize to him.” And okay, she does sounds contrite. Maybe even ashamed.
It’s a day for firsts.
“Mom is really sorry,” Jackson says from behind her. “I told her that we know everything.”
I stare over Sandrine’s head at him. His eyes are pleading with me.
She’ll be gone soon, back to the States. It might be another year before she returns. What if an apology helps étienne to put all this behind him? Fury and vengeance are no good for anyone. And if anyone deserves to feel peace, it’s étienne.
“Wait here,” I say, closing the door.
It would be a betrayal to let them come inside, especially when I know Sandrine waltzed in with entitlement twenty years ago. She can stay out there in the hot sun.
I cautiously venture upstairs. étienne is standing at the window of his childhood bedroom, staring out at the mountains with his arms folded across his chest.
“étienne,” I say gently.
He shakes his head.
“She wants to apologize to you.”
He snorts. “Fuck her and her apology.”
I walk over to him and place my hand on his back. He stares down at me, his eyes stormy.
“What she did to you—and your mum—was unforgivable. And you don’t have to forgive her; you’re under no obligation. But I do think it might help to hear what she has to say. It might help you to let go of the past and move on.”
His expression is pained, but eventually he gives me a barely there nod and follows me back downstairs.
“They’re outside.”
“I don’t want her to come in.”
My chest contracts at the sound of his voice. He sounds hurt and so much younger than he is.
“That’s understandable. Let’s talk out there.”
He snatches my hand at the bottom of the stairs. I give him a reassuring squeeze and don’t let go as we walk outside.
They’ve left the doorstep and are standing a little farther down the lane in the shade of a cluster of Barbie-pink oleander bushes. Sandrine is wearing her big round sunglasses. Jackson is shielding his eyes from the sun with his forearm.
As we venture toward each other, his gaze drops to my hand in étienne’s.
When he raises his eyes again, my heart contracts at the sight of his raw pain.
It’s clear to both of us that he and I have reached the end of our story—or at least, our love story.
But one day I hope we’ll write more chapters as friends.
I focus my attention on étienne.
Sandrine takes off her glasses as we come to a stop. étienne’s nostrils flare as he stares down at her dispassionately.
“I owe you an apology,” she says right away. “I was unkind to you and I was unkind to your mother. I am sorry.”
We wait for her to go on. And we wait. And—wait, was that it?
I recoil and stare at Jackson.
“Mom,” he says with embarrassment. “I think you might have more to say to him than that.”
“What?” She swivels her head to look up at her son.
Jackson’s eyes widen with frustration. “You denied him a chance to grow up with a grandfather! And a cousin!” He taps his own chest. “And a fucking aunt!” He points at her.
Whoa, Jackson is riled!
“And you denied Albie a chance to get to know him! He lost his son, but he could have had a grandson!”
“He had a grandson!” Sandrine snaps. “He had you!”
“He could have had both of us!” Jackson yells at her.
“Please don’t tell him,” Sandrine says in a hushed voice.
Is she talking about Albert?
“Of course we’re fucking telling him!” Jackson exclaims.
“You haven’t told Albert yet?” I interrupt.
“No, he went straight for a lie-down when he got home,” Jackson replies.
“He’ll never forgive me,” Sandrine says shakily.
She’s scared, I realize.
“At this rate, I’ll never forgive you,” Jackson mutters.
étienne squeezes my hand. I squeeze it back. We throw each other quick, startled glances, then return our attention to the scene playing out before us.
Sandrine’s bottom lip starts to quiver. Jackson notices and his expression softens, but only a little.
“You have to take accountability, Mom,” he says wearily.
“It’s not the same as saying sorry. We can go home right now and you can tell Albie yourself, or we’ll go home and I’ll tell him.
Either way, he’s going to find out that Sébastien had a son, and he’s going to want to bring him into our lives.
We’re not waiting another day longer for that to happen. So you’d better deal with it.”
The love I feel for Jackson right now is so strong. I realize that I love him like he’s my blood. Like he’s family.
Suddenly I can picture a future where all of this is behind us. We’re back to being good friends and he and étienne are as close as brothers, and we’re all at Chateau Angèle, spending time together.
A shiver runs down my spine. I want so badly for that vision to come true.