Page 71 of Love In Provence
I push back the thin sheet after a heavy afternoon nap, and head to the bathroom. I use the loo, wash my face and stare at myself in the mirror. Everything I’ve built here is rapidly falling away in front of my eyes. The day we moved in together, I dreamed of spending our lives here with our unconventional but happy little family, but that is gone. I retch into the sink. I drink a glass of water from the tap, refill it and walk back into the bedroom, passing the lavender field on one side. There is barking and laughter, and there on the drive is Fabien.
I run down the stairs and outside. ‘You’re here!’
‘Hey!’ He smiles. ‘Where have you been? Meeting your lover?’ He laughs. ‘A final fling before the old man gets home?’
‘You’re hardly old.’ I’m blushing, thinking of Henri’s son.
He goes to put his arms around me and I’m stiff – Zacharie’s cologne is still suffocating me. ‘I need to shower,’ I say, pulling back.
‘Okay.’ He loosens his embrace around my waist. ‘Shall I come and shower with you?’
‘No, no! I’ll be back in a minute. Pour some wine. Then we have to get to thebrocantefor supper club.’
I rush upstairs and turn on the shower. Scrubbing vigorously until my skin is red, I’m trying to get rid of the smell of Zacharie.
I arrive back on the terrace and Fabien is reading a message on his phone.
‘What’s that?’ I ask, not wanting to ask but the words come out of my mouth. This is Fabien’s homecoming. I planned to do so much more. I should have been focusing on that instead of Zacharie.
‘Just the band. A few pictures from last night. I wish you could have come. It was a great final gig.’
I tip olives into a bowl, then pick it up with my glass of wine and carry them across to join him. I look over his shoulder at a picture of him next to Monique, shoulder to shoulder, him on bass, her on saxophone, smiling at him.
He types a message back and sends a laughing emoji.
My cheeks are flaming, trying to push out the memory of Zacharie. Fabien puts his phone away and we stand in silence, looking out over the cut lavender plants. For a moment we are two strangers, with different pathsahead of us, who have come together just for one part of their journeys. I stare at the glow of the golden sun setting over the town, wondering if this is where our journey together ends.
I take a deep breath. ‘Is this enough for you, Fabien?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Will you miss life on the road? Is this, at Le Petit Mas, what you really want?’
Zacharie’s words are ringing in my ears.I heard you had a thing for younger men!
‘We’ve been through this!’ Fabien sighs. ‘Maybe you’re so busy worrying about other people and their lives you don’t have time for ours any more.’
I feel hot and sick. I have to tell him what happened between me and Zacharie. ‘Look, there’s something I need to tell you …’ at the same time as he says, ‘So, let me just tell you.’
We both give a little laugh.
‘You first,’ we say in unison.
‘It was just a kiss!’ we say together, then stare at each other as if time has stood still. As if we’ve just hit the end of the road with a bump.
‘A kiss! You kissed her?’
‘Who did you kiss?’ He scowls.
‘I didn’t! He kissed me! But I let it happen. You kissed her? Monique!’
‘You kissed who?’
‘Zacharie.’
‘You kissed Zacharie? Henri’s son?Oh, là!’ He slams down his wine glass and holds his hands to his head.
‘No. Yes. Not really. Sort of! And you kissed Monique?!’
