Chapter 30
Thirty
Audrey had hardly slept a wink all night.
For a while, she’d lain in the big bed beside James as he slept peacefully, untroubled by anything in his world, not even the fact that his fiancée had instantly agreed when he’d said, with an apologetic smile, that he was too tired for sex, darling, I’ve had a very long day, I really need to sleep.
It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, as he often got home late and was much too tired, but usually he didn’t do impulsive things like sudden romantic trips to Paris, either, and he might have thought that she would be disappointed at the lack of romance on their first night together again.
Clearly not. His turning up like that unexpectedly, after telling her that he was far too busy, was obviously to his mind all the romance she needed, and after a goodnight kiss, he had fallen happily into the sleep of the just, his breath steady and calm.
She’d waited another fifteen minutes then, taking a spare blanket with her, slipped out of bed and sat in the kitchen with the blanket around her shoulders, reliving in her mind what had happened when they got back to the hotel.
James’s beaming smile as he came towards her, his kiss on her lips, then his quizzical look at them both.
Before she could speak, Alex had said, quietly, ‘I’m Alexandre Valence, an old friend of Audrey’s from student days.
We’ve been at a jazz club all evening, and I was just seeing her home.
’ Audrey knew he’d said it to spare her any awkwardness, and the kindness of it made her feel close to tears.
But that ‘old friend’ also clenched at her heart because it felt wrong after their night together.
‘Okay,’ said James, the word coming out clipped, before he held out his hand. ‘James Fuller, Audrey’s fiancé. Pleased to meet you, Alexandre.’ Alex shook the proffered hand, then James went on, firmly, ‘And now if you don’t mind, we’ll head off upstairs. It’s late and I’ve had a long flight.’
His brisk dismissal would have made Audrey bristle if she hadn’t been feeling so shaken.
It was left to Alex to reply, in a level tone, ‘Of course.’ Turning to Audrey, he added, ‘I’ll bid you both goodnight then.
’ She’d managed to say, ‘Thank you for this evening, Alex. It was—it was really enjoyable,’ but what she had wanted so much to say was, let’s go, let’s go now, I know exactly what I want …
Yet somehow she couldn’t make her cowardly mouth utter those words; she could only form those limp stupid phrases and stand helplessly as Alex said, ‘I am glad you enjoyed it, Audrey,’ and then left.
‘Well,’ said James, glancing at Audrey, ‘shall we head up, darling? I really am totally bushed.’
He won’t ask me any questions, she’d thought, bleakly.
Even if he must surely have been aware of the tension between me and Alex.
He’s a clever man whose livelihood means he doesn’t miss things like that.
But he won’t ask because he doesn’t need to know.
Not if I play the game. Not if I simply nod and follow him into the lift, as if nothing had happened.
Not if I simply let him talk on and on about his very exhausting flight in business class and all the work he had and how this Paris trip had come up and …
Now, sitting at the kitchen table, she suddenly realised that he’d broken off at that point and changed the subject to ask rather perfunctory questions about how her book was going.
She hadn’t noticed at the time because her thoughts and feelings were churning so much she had hardly taken in a word he was saying.
This Paris trip came up—that didn’t sound like he’d made an impulsive decision to drop everything and join her for a romantic weekend, did it?
This Paris trip came up—he would hardly have said that if that had been it.
He would have said something like, I know you wanted me here, so I decided to come to Paris after all …
She rubbed at her gritty eyes, telling herself she was being unfair.
She was trying to justify her own actions, for this night would most certainly have ended with her and Alex in bed if James had not arrived.
A treacherous heat raced through her veins at the thought of it, and she groaned.
Oh God. She should have taken Alex’s hand and raced off into the night with him.
But she couldn’t have just dumped James there, without explanation or excuse, she couldn’t have just run after her true love like a ditzy heroine in some corny Christmas movie.
And besides, there were her things in the hotel room, her clothes, her laptop with all her work …
oh for God’s sake, how could she even think of that at a moment like this—what a screw-up she was; what a complete, utter mess she was making!
She didn’t go back to bed, but lay on the sofa with the blanket over her, willing herself to go to sleep in vain.
She could ring Kristy, but no, not now—not because of the time difference, but because she didn’t think she could even begin to articulate the feelings swelling and surging in her.
She’d just end up crying hysterically and that would be no use at all.
Instead, she put in her earphones, opened the audiobook app on her phone and alighted on Anne of Green Gables, a book she’d adored as a child.
She badly needed a comfort read, and as soon as the narrator’s warm, bright voice started, she knew she had picked exactly the right thing to take her away from this god-awful complication she’d brought on herself, away from the heartache of not knowing what the bloody hell to do next.
Gradually, the story enveloped her like another soft blanket, the churning thoughts and feelings inside her receding.
She didn’t notice when at last she did fall asleep, the narrator’s voice still murmuring in her earphones, but woke with a jump to James’s voice saying, ‘Hey, I made you some coffee.’
She blinked and sat bolt upright, the sudden movement jerking the earphones out. Her head was buzzing, her throat aching, and she gratefully took the cup he handed her, taking a gulp before she could speak. ‘Thank you. This—this is great.’
‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ he asked, gesturing to the earphones.
‘No, I—I didn’t want to wake you with my tossing and turning,’ she said, wretchedly feeling as though she were lying when actually she wasn’t. ‘So I thought I’d listen to a book, get myself to sleep …’
‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘Well, I’m glad to say I slept well. Maybe the jet lag hasn’t caught up with me yet, but I feel fresh and ready to roll.’
‘Oh.’ She winced, thinking she didn’t feel ready for anything more taxing than burrowing deeper into Anne of Green Gables. But she had to start talking. ‘That’s excellent,’ she said, ‘but James, we need to—’
He interrupted her. ‘Let’s have brunch later, okay?’ He downed his coffee and looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got a meeting in half an hour and I better not be late for it.’
She stared dazedly at him, at his handsome face with its Irish-blue eyes and wavy grey-blond hair. ‘A meeting? What meeting?’
He rubbed a hand over his freshly shaved chin and had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘With a potential new client—a very important one—who could only do today.’
‘On a Saturday morning? In Paris?’
‘They’re based here. And this was the only date in their diary that they could … Look, I can’t say any more, other than it’s very important we acquire this client and they wanted it to be here today, with me—so …’
‘This Paris trip came up,’ she said, with a faint smile.
‘Well, yes—but I thought, you know—’
‘Might as well kill two birds with one stone?’ she interjected, her voice clear as a bell.
‘Yes—no—I mean, look, I know you wanted me here too, and—’
‘You found someone to cover that situation that had blown up, then?’ she interrupted.
‘What? Oh yes. It all worked out in the end.’
‘Great,’ she said.
He couldn’t have missed the irony in her voice, but chose to ignore it, saying, ‘Let’s talk properly at brunch. Eleven work for you?’ She nodded. ‘Great. Sorry, but I’ve got to run now.’ She let him peck her on the cheek.
As he went out the door, he threw back over his shoulder, ‘You pick the place and text me the address.’
As if he is throwing me crumbs, she thought, anger beginning to bubble under the numbness.
I can pick the place for our brunch while he goes off to see this important client who is the reason he’s come here at all.
It was good to feel the anger rather than the bleak misery that had engulfed her last night.
But it wasn’t productive either, she knew that.
She showered, pulled on a clean top and her Liberty-print skirt, made herself another cup of coffee and forced herself to eat a dry piece of toast. Although it was more than she could stomach at the moment, she had to eat something or feel nauseated all morning.
She picked up her phone and clicked on Alex’s number, her finger hovering over the green call button before she put the phone down again.
Last night at the jazz club, it had felt like a beginning; but now in the cold light of the morning, it felt like an end.
The last goodbye, the final closure she’d so wanted.
But not in that way … She started writing a message.
Deleted it. Started again. Deleted it once more.
There was too much to say. It couldn’t be done. Not like this.