Chapter Thirty
The reality that I was going to France hit like a sledgehammer three days before departure.
My countdown widget turned red, and something shifted inside me.
Adrenaline replaced my sadness with panic.
Whatever else had weighed me down, the only thing that suddenly mattered was that I had seventy-two hours before the trip of a lifetime, and I couldn’t be lying around in bed!
I tore through my closet like a woman unhinged.
I wasn’t just going to France, as if that wasn’t reason enough to freak out.
I was traveling alone with Lucas. Possibly the man of my dreams incarnate, who looked as if he felt the same way—in photographs, anyway.
And it was likely that Sébastien Allard once lived in the region where we were headed.
This was a cosmic storm of goodies. I needed a better wardrobe.
I visited a half dozen thrift stores in search of the perfect clothes, shoes, and accessories. Then I bought new underthings that made me feel young and sexy. Bras and panties Robert had never and would never see or touch.
I packed everything with care, including the photos of Sébastien and my mom, and the list of towns with restaurants on Rue Pasteur.
Lucas drove us to the airport. We chatted and laughed as if I hadn’t been mopey and distant for days on end. I told him my pretrial hadn’t gone well. He said a little time in France was probably just what I needed.
I couldn’t disagree.
Renewed purpose etched away the bone-deep fatigue as I navigated the airports, security, and customs with Lucas.
My habitual need to consider everyone else’s comfort kicked in at full force, and I spent the day trying to stay hyperorganized and rushing each step of the way.
Lucas did his best to slow me down, but he was no match for my desperation never to dillydally or hold anyone up.
I checked my tickets repeatedly for the right gate numbers, even after we’d sat in front of them for an hour.
Then I kept my phone in hand as I boarded the plane, careful not to somehow sit in the wrong seat.
I hurried to stay out of everyone’s way, practically throwing my carry-on overhead and diving out of the aisle.
Lucas moved at a more reasonable pace, unhurried but with confidence. He took his time straightening my bag in the compartment and waiting while I found both sides of my safety belt before joining me in our seats.
Apparently, traveling could be pleasant, even fun and interesting, when I wasn’t burdened with the mental load of a man determined to ruin my good time. I did my best to relax into the easier pace and enjoy.
Lucas and I played travel word games on our phones and watched movies as we flew over the Atlantic. I confessed my dream of finding the Frenchman who gave me life. He offered to join me on every excursion for the cause.
I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder, feeling like anything was possible.
“Look,” he said, nodding toward the window.
Outside the little window, an endless blue sea stretched to the horizon. Later, a new world of lights and landscapes awaited below.
“Welcome to France,” he whispered.
And a rush of childlike wonder overtook everything else.
We checked into our hotel, a charming, historic number overlooking the sea. The traditional stucco facade and bright, sunny colors made me smile upon arrival. The wrought iron balconies, unobstructed sea views, and rooftop terrace made me never want to leave. But Nice awaited just outside the door.
I changed quickly out of my travel clothes and into a long cotton dress and knit sweater.
Then I met Lucas in the grand foyer for an afternoon of exploration.
Classes began tomorrow, and jet-lagged though I was, I couldn’t wait to explore.
The winds off the water were strong, and the autumn air brisk.
The promenade bustled with pedestrians, bikers, and more than a few in-line skaters.
Lucas nudged me as a couple on skates whipped past us at eighty miles an hour. “Have you ever?” he asked, watching the pair vanish into the distance.
I laughed. “If I had, I’m sure both my legs would still be broken. Have you?”
“No.” His impish grin captivated me, and a little more of the exhaustion I’d felt before seemed to slip away.
We walked by buildings painted the same soft-pink color found inside oyster shells, a breathtaking blue sea on one side and distant green mountains on the other.
The sun rose high in the sky as we wound along narrow streets and weaved through brightly colored shops, talking about everything from my lonely childhood and his loud, adventurous one to our first loves, first pets, and dreams for the future.
I marveled at his honesty. And mine. With Lucas, there wasn’t any judgment.
I stopped frequently to admire views, buy snacks, and take selfies.
My trusty companion never complained. It was, I realized wistfully, my definition of a perfect day.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Lucas asked as we climbed toward a hilltop garden.
“I’m really enjoying getting to know you,” I admitted.
“I appreciate your candor, and your perspectives. And today I feel very much like myself for the first time in a long while. The only other person I speak so freely with is Alicia, but she already knows everything about me anyway. I can’t upset or surprise her. ”
“You think something you say would upset me?” he asked, slowing as we neared the top. “Is that why you sometimes seem to filter yourself?”
I widened my eyes at him and wiggled my head. “Well, yeah.” Duh.
Lucas leaned against the railing of the garden. He motioned me to join him for the spectacular view of the sun setting over pebbled beaches. Vibrant streams of amber and apricot light reached across the water to us, catching fire in the shape of a shrinking red ball.
I’d never been so sorry to say goodbye to a single day.
Where had the time gone? How long had we walked? Was it truly all afternoon?
“You don’t have to watch your words around me,” Lucas said.
I felt his gaze on my cheek but couldn’t pull my eyes from the impossible view.
I was in France.
My heart swelled and tears welled. How could this be my life? Twenty-three years of captivity in a gilded cage. And before the divorce was finalized, I was already living my dream.
“You know,” Lucas said. “The only time I can’t identify with what you’re saying is when you speak so lowly of marriage.
I know why you do. I might, too, if I was you, but for me,” he said, “I think marriage is a wonderful gift and opportunity. To have a best friend by your side, a partner in good times and bad. Someone who knows every part of you and never judges, only encourages and supports. It’s a miracle. ”
I bit the insides of my cheeks to stop a rebuttal.
It was nice that he’d had a far different experience than mine.
I didn’t need to pooh-pooh it. “Sorry,” I said instead.
“I don’t mean to downplay your joy. I’m working on my attitude, believe it or not,” I teased.
“My daughter is determined to marry, and I have to be on board.”
“Would you truly never marry again?”
I studied his face, genuine and beseeching. Then I looked back at the smattering of tiny boats on the sea. “Maybe, if I found what you had,” I admitted. It was what everyone wanted, wasn’t it?
“Excellent.” His voice was husky and approving in the dimming light. I imagined the picture of us once more, me laughing, him looking at me as if I was the only thing that mattered. “It’s nice to know you still have hope,” he said. “That bozo you married didn’t take that from you too.”
I laughed. “He did not. But don’t get too excited,” I teased. “I’m open to the possibility, but I assure you my trust issues are not. The walls they’ve built are much higher than this one.” I patted the fence.
My attention returned to the boats in the distance.
As they bobbed and dipped in the water, they rattled something loose in my brain.
A memory of the front desk woman at the yacht club.
Strange. She’d suggested I open a membership, and I had said my husband handled that.
But why did she say she’d contact his company?
Initially I assumed the yacht club membership was another perk of partnership, like the annual leasing of cars.
But now I wasn’t as sure. And was Robert’s law firm the company she referenced?
Or had she meant something else? A different company?
“You’re right to protect yourself,” Lucas said, continuing our earlier conversation. “I’m not condemning you for doing whatever it takes to heal. I just hope you’ll find lots of joy in the process.”
“I have joy,” I said, turning to face him directly. “This is joy.” I lifted my hands and my lips in a smile. “A week ago I could barely get off my couch, and look at me now! Look at this view!”
“It’s stunning,” he said softly, his eyes locked on mine.
I laughed. “What time is it in Virginia right now?”
He checked his watch. “Lunchtime, I guess.”
I made a mental note to contact the yacht club when I got back to my room, just to satisfy my curiosity. Meanwhile, I chose happiness.
Lucas pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the screen with a frown.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He tucked the phone away and smiled. “Tomorrow after class we’ll take a road trip,” he said. “I want to try a family-owned restaurant a few towns away. I’ll rent a car.”
“Wait. Where are we going?” My stomach knotted in anticipation. “A restaurant?”
“In Menton,” he said, casting a look over one shoulder, and I hastened to catch up.
“Why Menton?”
“Remember the photo you showed me of your parents?” he asked, watching as I bounced back downhill at his side.
“On the fridge at my house?”
He nodded. “I think I found the restaurant. I thought you might let me buy you dinner, and we could see if it’s the same place.”