Page 110 of A Wedding in Tuscany

‘This seems like it’s come as a surprise to you and that … baffles me,’ I say. ‘You had to know that this is how I feel. On some level you had to know.’

‘You seem very certain that I am knowing all these things.’

‘Yes! Because you are the clever one, the worldly one. You’re the one who has everything figured out in life.’

He laughs, but it lacks even a trace of humour. ‘Non. It is not as you say. I have as many uncertainties as you.’

‘All right, let me ask you this?if you were so uncertain about this?about our living situation?then why did you marry me before we had it all sorted?’

‘Because I am afraid!’ he shouts. He stills, his eyes filling with tears, and holds back a ragged sob. ‘I am afraid, my love.’

‘What? Why?’

He nods. ‘C’est vrai. I am afraid I cannot make you happy. That you will not want to make a life with me. That you will live in your flat with Jane and I will be a visitor, an interloper.’

‘No! No, I … I don’t want that. I love living with Jane, but that time … that’s over.’ As the words leave my mouth, they consolidate my truth and the next part comes easily. ‘I do want a life with you. I want us to sleep in the same bed as much as possible and yes, I know you travel for work all the time, but the rest of the nights …’

‘But not in Paris.’

‘Please stop saying that. I know?I get it now. Paris is your home. It’s where you are most yourself.’

‘Yes. And no.’

‘What?’ I ask again. We’re both crying now and I sniffle and drag a knuckle under my nose.

‘Catherine, you are my home.’ A sob escapes as he rushes to me and gathers me in his arms. ‘You are my home, chérie,’ he says, his lips buried in my hair. I cling to him, hating myself for not noticing this enormous fear he’s been carrying around. Another sob racks my body and he tightens his embrace. We stand like that for many moments, eventually stepping back and regarding each other. His face is tear-stained, his nose red, and I must look the same.

‘There is one thing I have thought about,’ he says quietly, taking my hands in his. ‘Perhaps it is a good compromise, a way for the fish and the cat to live together?although I am not sure about being a fish …’ I smile at his weak humour. ‘We could find an apartment together in London for most of the year …’ My breath catches in my throat. ‘And perhaps for the summer, we live in Paris …’ He shrugs, his eyes so filled with hope and his words so thoughtful, that my heart aches. ‘When you are not teaching?like a vacation.’

Relief floods my body. A compromise. A perfect?extremely generous on his part?compromise.

‘Oh, my god … Jean-Luc?darling, that is … I think it’s perfect,’ I say, sighing out the last word.

‘Really? I was so unsure. I thought that perhaps Paris was, how do you say, off the table entirely.’

‘No. I really do love it there and I want to learn to love your Paris, to improve my French. I do want to make it a home, of sorts … just …’

‘Je comprends. I think your connection to London … it is more intense than I have imagined. We will make a wonderful home there.’ I smile at him. ‘And when I am not in Paris, I can rent out my apartment.’

‘Of course! I can even help with that.’

‘And Jane?’ he asks.

‘She’ll understand, I promise. And we’ll give her plenty of notice so she can find a new flatmate.’

‘Parfait.’ We smile at each other.

‘Oh, and one more thing …’ I say.

He lifts a finger to my cheek and wipes away a tear, then leans down for a soft kiss. ‘Oui, n’importe quoi, ma chérie. Anything.’

‘It’s just …’ His lips move to my jaw, then my neck.

‘Mmm?’

‘If we’re going to live in your apartment?’

‘Our apartment.’

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