Page 89 of Never
He smiled wryly. ‘You’re entitled to be sarcastic. I’ve never lied to you or cheated, but I didn’t tell you everything, and that counts as deception, doesn’t it? The truth is, I was embarrassed that I fell for you so soon, and got serious so quickly. I’m still embarrassed. It makes me feel like a Casanova, which I’m not; and really, I don’t respect those men I know who count up their conquests like goals in the soccer season. All the same, I should have confessed.’
‘Who ended the affair, you or her?’
‘I did.’
‘Why? You liked her, and you still do.’
‘She told me a lie, and when I found out I felt betrayed.’
‘What lie?’
‘She told me she was single. She’s not, she has a husband in Paris, and two boys at boarding school – the one I went to, Ermitage International. She goes home in the summer to be with them.’
‘That’s why you broke up – because she’s married.’
‘I can’t feel good about sleeping with a married woman. I don’t condemn other people who do it, but it’s not for me. I don’t want to have a shameful secret.’
She remembered how he had been concerned to establish that she and Jonathan were definitely divorced, that first time she had talked to him about her past.
If this was all an elaborate lie, it was a very plausible one.
She said: ‘So you finished the affair two months ago. Why were you holding hands today?’ She immediately regretted saying that. It was a cheap shot, for they had not really been holding hands.
But Tab was too mature to quibble about that. ‘Léonie asked to see me. She wanted to talk.’ He shrugged. ‘It would have been unkind to refuse.’
‘What did she want?’
‘To resume our affair. I said no, of course. But I tried to be gentle.’
‘So that’s what I saw. You being gentle.’
‘I can’t honestly say I regret that. But I sure as hell regret not telling you everything beforehand. Too late now.’
‘Did she say she loved you?’
He hesitated. ‘I’ll tell you anything,’ he said. ‘But are you sure you want me to answer that?’
‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘You’re so decent you should have a fucking halo.’
He chuckled. ‘Even when you’re breaking up with me, you can make me laugh.’
‘I’m not breaking up with you,’ she said, and she felt warm tears on her face. ‘I love you too much.’
He reached across and took her hands. ‘I love you, too,’ he said. ‘In case you haven’t already guessed. In fact –’ He paused. ‘Look, you and I have both loved people before. But I’d like you to know that I have never felt this way about anyone. Never. Ever.’
‘Would you just come here and hug me?’
He did as she asked and she held him hard.
She said: ‘Don’t scare me like that again, okay?’
‘I swear to God.’
‘Thank you.’
CHAPTER 13
Saturday was not a day off for the American president, but it was different from other days. The White House was a little quieter than usual, and the phone did not ring quite so often. Pauline welcomed the chance to deal with documents that demanded time and concentration: long international reports from the State Department, pages of tax numbers from the Treasury, technical specifications for billion-dollar weapons systems from the Pentagon. Late on Saturday afternoons she liked to work in the Treaty Room, an elegant traditional space in the Residence, much older than the Oval Office. She sat at Ulysses Grant’s massive Treaty Table, with the tall grandfather clock ticking loudly over her shoulder, like the spirit of a previous president reminding her that there was not much time for all she wanted to do.
