Page 49 of Meet Me at Sunset

Andre looked from Camille to Nicolas and back again, but didn’t protest. He understood that the two of them needed to talk. ‘Sure,’ he said evenly. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

There was a long moment of silence, until Camille couldn’t hold her feelings in any longer. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this. I can’t believe you’re leaving me.’

Nicolas moved towards her, reaching out for her, but she jumped back as though she’d been electrocuted. The memories were still fresh of the last time he’d comforted her, the way she’d allowed herself to fall into his arms, and everything that had happened afterwards. She needed to stay strong. She folded her arms across her chest and turned on him, eyes blazing. Being angry with him was easier than confronting the tangled emotions she was feeling right now.

‘I can’t live this lie any more,’ Nicolas whispered, keeping his voice low, conscious of Andre in the room along the hall.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Be around you. And Andre, and Lucas. The three of you playing happy families and pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.’ His voice sounded strangled. ‘It’s breaking my heart every single day, knowing that I’ll never be a part of your world again, or be able to have that for myself.’

‘Of course you will. You’ll meet someone and fall in love,’ Camille assured him, as tears filled her eyes.

There was a pause. Nicolas looked down at the floor, avoiding Camille’s eyes, and then the penny finally dropped.

‘Lisa,’ Camille said, inhaling sharply. Nicolas nodded, and Camille felt a wave of panic and fury and jealousy wash over her. Lisa Schwartz was American and worked as a data analyst for Goldman Sachs. She was on secondment in Paris, and she and Nicolas had been dating for just over three months. Camille had met her only once, and her overriding impression was of an intimidatingly self-confident, whip-smart and flawlessly groomed young woman who was clearly destined for great things. Camille had hated her instantly.

‘She’s decided to return to New York,’ Nicolas explained. ‘And I’m going with her. I want to try and make things work between us.’

Camille nodded slowly, fighting unsuccessfully to hold back the tears. She knew she had no right to be upset – she should be happy for Nicolas that he’d finally found someone he cared about – but selfishly all Camille could think was that she didn’t want him to leave.

‘Are you in love with her?’ she whispered, knowing that she didn’t want to hear the answer, knowing that his words would be like a knife wound.

‘Yes,’ he said simply.

‘You barely even know her.’

‘Goddamn it, I want to give this a chance.’ There was desperation in Nicolas’s voice now. ‘I compare every single woman I meet to you, Camille, and they can’t live up to it. It’s driving me to despair. This is the best way for everyone. A clean break. A fresh start. An ocean between us.’

Camille searched his face. ‘Does it have to be so final? You’ve been in my life for so long now. Barely a day has gone by where I haven’t seen or spoken to you, and now you want to move to another continent? How am I going to live without you?’

‘You have Andre,’ Nicolas said, and the unspoken accusation hung in the air between them: You chose him over me. ‘If you ever need me for anything – anything at all – I’ll always be there at the end of the phone.’

‘What about Lucas?’ Camille asked, her eyes searching his.

‘What about him?’

‘He’s going to miss you. He …’ Camille faltered. ‘You won’t be around to see him grow up. He’s your godson, Nicolas.’

Nicolas considered her words, the air between them thick with tension. ‘I’ll always do right by Lucas,’ he said finally, a desperation in his voice. ‘But I must move on with my life, Camille. You’re keeping me prisoner.’

Camille was about to protest, but deep down, she knew he was right. She would miss him desperately, but she had to let him be free. What was the phrase? If you love someone, let them go. She loved him, and he loved her, but she had chosen Andre and now he had found Lisa. It was time to let Nicolas go.

Chapter 22

Mallorca, August 1982

Camille stretched languorously in the morning sunshine, enjoying the taste of freshly brewed coffee and ensaïmadas that lingered in her mouth. It was so peaceful in the Tramuntana mountains, only the call of birds and the drone of insects to disturb the silence. Right now, the temperature was perfect. It would be almost unbearably hot later in the day, but by then Camille would be gone.

‘I wish we could stay a little longer,’ she sighed.

‘No rest for the wicked,’ Andre laughed, his gaze running over her. Camille knew she looked good, in pale pink shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, her dark hair cut into a fashionable crop that emphasized her fine bone structure and gamine frame. At the age of thirty-two, she felt as though she was in her prime, both personally and professionally. She’d found her signature style as a designer, and Camille Andre was now well established, not to mention her little family.

‘Can you stay a bit longer, Maman?’ asked Lucas. He was sitting across from her on the terrace, outside Andre’s mother’s villa.

‘I’m afraid not, darling,’ she sighed, feeling guilty as she saw his face fall. He had just turned eight years old, was tall for his age and slender, with a shock of dark curly hair and a freckled face, his eyes the same enchanting hazel as Camille’s.

‘When will you be back?’ he asked solemnly.