Chapter 21 #2
‘I didn’t know how to find you. You didn’t leave me an address.’
‘So… what?’ I asked, my hands going to my hips. ‘What I don’t know won’t hurt me?’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’
‘What did you mean then? I was good enough to paint and sleep with but not good enough for you to defend to your parents?’ Oh, shit. Where the hell had that come from?
Bloody Tomas and his paintings, drawing me back into the past! That’s where it had come from! The box where I’d stuffed all those memories had been dragged out into the open and the lid so unexpectedly lifted. I dragged in a breath and let it out again slowly.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—’
‘No. You should.’ His hands wrapped gently around my upper arms and I could feel the gentle strength in them. ‘You have every right to be angry at me.’
‘No, Tomas. It’s all long in the past and we’ve both moved on.’
‘I haven’t.’
I tilted my head up to meet his eyes. ‘What?’
‘I never moved on from you. Anyone I ever met was always a poor imitation of you so it never worked out.’
I took a step back. ‘Don’t you dare blame me for your failed relationships!’
He shook his head. ‘Merde! No, I didn’t… I am not explaining this well.’ He checked his watch. ‘We have to be back at the bar shortly.’
‘I think that’s probably for the best.’ I pulled my coat around me and belted it tightly as I walked towards the door. Behind me, the gallery once more fell back into the low light it had been bathed in, except for the artfully lit window display.
We stepped back onto the pavement, still shiny with the earlier rain. Thankfully, it had now stopped and there was no need to cram together under the umbrella as we began the short walk back to the hotel.
Eventually, Tomas spoke. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t like it.’
‘It’s not that. The paintings are incredible. You always were so talented. But it’s…’ I turned and stopped. ‘It’s so many things, Tomas! The last person I expected to run into tonight, or ever, was you! I’d packed away all those memories and then at the gallery, they all came tumbling out again.’
‘They aren’t good memories?’
‘Of course they’re good memories, you idiot! That’s why it’s so hard!’ I punctuated the word ‘idiot’ with a punch to the biceps, causing Tomas to wince, which had been oddly satisfying. For some reason, Tomas was bringing out the worst in me.
‘I’d forgotten what a good left hook you have.’
‘And I’d forgotten what a pain in the arse you are!’
We stood there staring at each other for a moment, my breathing short and shallow with annoyance and a whole host of other emotions I’d shut the door on and wasn’t ready to open back up yet – if ever.
And then, out of nowhere, laughter bubbled up inside of me and burst out.
Tomas looked as surprised as I felt. A hesitant smile, shot through with a clear streak of confusion, crept onto his lips.
‘Is… everything OK?’ He reached out and laid the briefest touch on my cheek with the back of his hand, light as a butterfly, before withdrawing.
‘Perhaps we should get you to a hospital. You obviously took quite a fall.’ His eyes scanned my face, lingering on the worst area of bruising.
‘Head injuries can be more serious than at first thought.’
‘Oh, Tomas! I’m not deranged.’
‘No, of course I didn’t mean…’ He stopped under the scrutiny of my focus then tipped his head back to the light-polluted sky and let out a sigh. ‘I have replayed this scenario in my head so many, many times over the years and not once has it been even half as disastrous as tonight has been.’
‘You have?’
He pulled his eyes from the cloud-obscured heavens. The pain in his eyes told me more than words ever could.
‘Tomas, I—’
A rumble of thunder jolted us back to the present, away from the thoughts of times past and what might have been.
Tomas opened the umbrella once more as the clouds unleashed another downpour.
Without thinking, I hooked my arm around his and he wrapped his other arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer under the brolly, and to him, as we hurried back towards the hotel.
The ornate glass doors to the foyer were opened in anticipation as we dashed through and Tomas handed back the borrowed umbrella with thanks.
‘You’re OK?’ he asked. I caught sight of my reflection in a nearby gilt-edged mirror and winced, the pain of which made me wince again.
‘I’ll have to do.’ I heard the forced buoyancy of my tone as I took in the reflection before me.
My hair, tonged into loose curls earlier in a vain attempt to distract people from the bruising, now hung straight and limp.
My make-up, remastered by Gabby earlier, hadn’t fared too badly but seeing the painting earlier when I’d looked so vibrant and happy, it was hard to dredge up anything other than disappointment at the rest.
‘Whatever it is that you are thinking, it’s not true.’ Tomas’s voice was deep and mellow beside me.
He always had been able to read me like a book. It was only when I’d left Paris that I’d been determined to close that book for good. To let people think what I wanted them to think, not the real feelings hidden below.
‘The painting of Gabby, that was recent?’
‘Last summer.’
‘And she looks so alive, so vibrant still. And she is! It’s obvious immediately to anyone who meets her.’
‘And that’s not how you feel?’
I shook my head. ‘Not even close.’
‘Why?’
I turned to face him instead of our reflections. ‘So many reasons, Tomas.’
‘Was I one of them?’ He held up a hand. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my business, not to mention it sounded far more arrogant out loud than it did in my head.’
‘I don’t know the answer to that, or any of it, if I’m honest. Just one day, I looked up and there was no sign of that girl any more. Absolutely no trace.’
Tomas echoed the wiggle of the head Gabby had done earlier.
‘I’m not so sure. So far tonight, you have put me back in my place a few times, quite rightly, I might add.
Not to mention proving you can still pack a punch when required.
I don’t think you’re as far removed from her as you think you are. ’
‘Well, you bring out the worst in me.’
‘And you bring out the best in me. You always did.’
‘Tomas…’
‘I’m sorry. I know…’ He made a zippy motion across his mouth. ‘As I said earlier, I’ve, how did you used to say? Buggered this up from the start.’
It was impossible not to laugh. The deep timbre of his voice, the undoubtedly sexy accent and the blunt English phrase made unlikely companions.
‘Let’s go and find my sister and Ashok.’ He held out his arm, almost hesitantly, but I wasn’t pedantic enough to reject it.
It was likely just as much a shock for him to see me this evening as it had been for me to see him and I had to allow some grace for that.
I very much hoped that Gabby and I could rekindle and retain our friendship but Tomas was another matter.
But for his sister’s sake, we needed to put the past behind us and move forward.
‘That sounds like a very good idea. I hope there’s wine.’
‘I hope there’s champagne!’
Tomas got his wish and somehow the three of us – Ashok had wisely declined more after a couple of glasses, citing his important meeting in the morning – got through three bottles before the night was over.
‘I’m going to regret this in the morning,’ I told Gabby as she tipped the last dribbles from the last bottle into my glass.
‘Nonsense,’ she replied, waving a hand of dismissal at my words, catching Ashok with a slap across the forehead as she did so. ‘Oh, merde!’ Her hands went to his face. ‘Je suis très, très désolée!’
‘It’s fine,’ Ashok replied, laughter in his voice and admiration in his eyes as Gabby laid her hand against one cheek and placed a kiss on the other.
I shot a look under my lashes at Tomas. He’d always been protective of his younger sister, just as she was of him. He turned his glance towards me at the same time, our eyes meeting as we shared a private smile.
‘You’re not about to challenge my friend to a duel, are you?’ I leant over a little too much as, beside me, Ashok and Gabby fell deep into flirtatious conversation. ‘Oops!’
My elbow slid off the table. Tomas caught my arm and gently tipped me back up. ‘No. I’ve matured a little since those days, although I don’t believe I ever went quite so far as a duel? However, hopeless romantic that I was, I wouldn’t have put it past me.’
‘He’s a good man.’
‘I can see that. Also the fact that he’s clearly a confidant of yours is more than enough recommendation for me. You always were a good judge of character.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I batted back. ‘I chose to go out with you.’
He gave a nonchalant, very French, shrug. ‘Everyone has off days.’
I nodded in agreement, intending for the gesture to be a wise, knowing acceptance, but I was on the verge of one too many now and dangerously close to tipping into nodding dog territory. I rested my chin on my hand purposefully in order to cease the movement.
‘So do you not consider yourself a hopeless romantic any more?’
‘Quoi?’
Ha! Not quite as sober as he was trying to make out.
Both he and Gabby had always reverted to their native tongue if we’d been speaking English when they were either angry, frustrated or drunk.
I was pretty sure I could rule out the first two and the fact I wasn’t the only one swimming in a pleasant fug of pre-hangover made me oddly happy.
I’d always been pretty good at holding my own when it came to alcohol back in the day – practice made perfect – but it had been a long time since I’d practised this well.
Not to mention, Tomas had size on his side.
He was tall and broad and had been drinking wine from a young age as per the French custom, especially if your family owned a vineyard.
I’d done a good job of making up for my slow start during my teenage years and honing the talent when I’d lived out here but there was no denying Tomas’s six foot three frame that held nothing but muscle gave him a distinct advantage.
‘A minute ago, you said that you were a hopeless romantic. Past tense.’ I pointed backwards for emphasis. ‘Does that mean you’re not one these days?’
He mirrored my position and rested his own chin on his hand and looked at me, eyes soft. Although that might have been the wine. At some point between the second and third bottles of champagne, someone had nipped in and fitted a soft-focus filter on the whole world. It was really rather pleasant.
‘No, I would say definitely not.’ He thought for a moment. ‘As I’m sure most of the women I’ve dated would testify to.’
‘Ohhhh! But you used to be so romantic!’ I touched his hand. The sensible part of my brain which had been taking a nap suddenly woke at the contact and gave me a sharp prod. I snatched my hand back. Sensible Me stomped back to the corner. ‘You know… back then.’
‘French men are supposed to be romantic, aren’t they, and I was trying to woo you so… I had a reputation to uphold.’
‘Woo me?’ I sputtered out a laugh.
‘Yes. Is that funny?’ Laughter lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there when I knew him before crinkled as the smile spread.
‘It is.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. Probably because it feels like I’ve drunk my body weight in champagne and also because it makes me feel like a fourteenth-century maiden.
Although,’ I tapped my fingers against my cheek, casting my mind back over the fashion history degree I’d studied for, ‘they did have some fabulous clothing.’
‘I could see you in one of those pointy princess hats with the veil thing.’ He made the shapes with his hands as he spoke.
‘Yeah, I reckon I could have rocked that look.’
‘You rocked any and every look.’ Our eyes met and… did he lean towards me or I towards him?
‘Oh, no.’ I wagged my finger as I pulled back. ‘No, no, no. Nopedy nope.’
‘Nopedy nope?’ The laughter lines deepened.
‘I’m not falling for you a second time.’
His smile now was sad. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to. I know I had my chance and messed that up.’
‘So why did you lean in like that, just then?’
‘I didn’t. I already got punched once this evening. I’m not drunk enough to ask for another! Your chair was tipping. I leant forward to steady it but you righted yourself before further emergency measures were required.’
‘Oh. Oh, right. Good.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Good to be clear on these things.’
‘Absolutely,’ he replied, smile still firmly in place. ‘Although – and I apologise if this is inappropriate or out of place – it’s not always easy to keep up these days.’
‘Agreed.’ I gave a nod of agreement, just to be absolutely clear.
‘I had forgotten how cute you are when you get drunk.’
‘I was cute when I wasn’t drunk.’
‘You were. You are. Incredibly.’
‘Also, I am not drunk,’ I stated. Drunkenly.
‘No. Of course not. My apologies.’ He did a fake bow from his sitting position before hooking my gaze with those mesmerising navy-blue eyes.
Bugger.