Chapter 7

Olivier and Amanda slept peacefully in each other's arms that night after they made love.

They had eaten dinner at nearly midnight, some pasta they found in a kitchen cupboard and a salad she made from what was in the fridge.

"I eat out a lot,"

she explained, "or I order in.

I'm not very interested in cooking,"

she confessed with a grin.

"I used to cook for my kids, just basic stuff, when their mother was traveling,"

which sounded like most of the time.

"I didn't mind her traveling because I got to know my sons that way.

I never missed a practice or a sports game."

Olivier was proud of it, she could tell.

"You never wanted children?"

he asked, surprised.

She had a nurturing side.

"I was never with the right man,"

she said honestly.

"And I wasn't brave enough to do it alone.

That didn't look like fun.

I didn't want a child enough to raise one on my own.

And time got away from me.

When you're young, you think you'll be young forever, and then suddenly you're not."

"You are.

You could still have a child if you wanted one."

"I hope not."

She laughed.

"Besides, it would upset Lulu too much.

She's my first child.

I've never felt any pressure about getting married or having children.

Maybe losing my parents so young taught me that you don't have anyone forever, no matter how much you love them.

And children only stay with you for such a short time."

He nodded.

She was very wise.

"I discovered that when both my boys left the same year.

Maybe that's part of why Stephanie and I stay married,"

he said, thinking about it.

"She has a sister she doesn't speak to.

Both her parents are alive, with severe Alzheimer's, and they're very old now.

My brother and my parents died.

Our boys are grown up and gone.

We're the only family for each other now.

We hardly see each other, but we know that if something happens, the other one will be around to pick up the pieces, or at least send someone to help.

She's not a nurturer, but she's responsible and very organized, and so am I.

We've never had a warm relationship."

Amanda was far warmer and more loving than his wife, which he found touching.

"But we're people others can count on."

Amanda had discovered that yesterday with the fish.

"That's worth something, I suppose," he said.

Amanda had made him accountable for why he had stayed married to a woman he hadn't been in love with for almost their entire marriage.

It was practical, if nothing else, which seemed like a poor excuse not to divorce, even to him.

He couldn't actually explain why he had stayed married to Stephanie, except that he felt it was the right thing to do, and it was expected of him.

He had never questioned that for twenty-six years, until he met Amanda, and now things had changed.

He was stuck with a life and a woman that didn't suit him, and he had seriously upset the woman he had fallen in love with.

But it was all still very new.

He was grateful she was giving him and their relationship a chance.

It was brave of her and made him love her more.

Things were subtly different too now that they had made love.

It provided an invisible bond between them, a kind of glue that he and his wife had never had.

They had stopped having sex entirely twenty-four years before, after Edouard was conceived.

It was amazing what people settled for by tacit agreement, without ever saying a word.

Amanda had had one late call from a blocked number shortly after midnight, while they were cleaning up after dinner.

She guessed immediately that it would be the breather.

No one ever called her at that hour.

She looked frightened and didn't answer it.

Olivier picked up the receiver and spoke into it in a strong male tone.

"We know who you are and we're going to call the police,"

he said.

"Don't call here again,"

and then he disconnected the call.

There were no further calls that night.

It was useful having a man around, and Lulu didn't object to him as much as Amanda had feared.

She wagged her tail a few times in his direction, got into one of her beds, and went to sleep.

Amanda didn't put her in bed with them that night.

They went out for breakfast on Sunday morning, to a little place Olivier knew that made delicious omelets, and then they took a long walk along the river.

The city was quiet and peaceful, and he stayed with her until that night, and then he went back to his own place.

He had told her that Stephanie was at a horse show in Deauville that weekend, with her friends.

She was coming home for a night, and then leaving for England for a series of events there.

"I'm going to talk to her eventually, but not when she's home for one night on the fly.

And it's too soon."

Amanda agreed with him.

She wanted him to be divorced, but didn't want to be the cause of it, whom everyone would blame.

It had to come from him because he wanted it.

Then they could have a real life together.

But he did seem to have as much freedom as he said.

Amanda wondered if his wife had had a man in her life for all these years, maybe someone in her horse world.

It didn't seem as though Olivier would have cared.

Or at least not this late in the day.

And now he had Amanda.

Their marriage seemed to her a sad way to live.

Strangers living under the same roof occasionally, like guests in a hotel.

—

The apartment seemed strangely quiet after he left.

He wasn't a noisy person, and he didn't make a mess.

But he was a strong male presence which made itself felt.

And his absence was equally noticeable.

After recent events, the calls and the gutted fish, she felt safer and protected somehow when he was around.

She caught up on reading some art magazines on Sunday night and watched part of a series on TV.

She looked rested and relaxed when she got to the gallery on Monday.

Pascal noticed it immediately but didn't comment about it at first.

"What did you do this weekend?"

he asked her casually.

"After you got rid of the dead fish.

That sounded disgusting, by the way."

"It was,"

she confirmed.

"I took a drive in the country, went for a walk along the Seine, and went out for breakfast on Sunday."

Pascal was smiling by then.

None of those things were activities she would have done alone, and he could guess easily who she was with.

"Did Olivier spend the night?"

"Funny you should ask.

What makes you say that?"

"I know you.

You don't go driving to the country, walk along the Seine, or go out for breakfast on your own.

You look like you've had a two-week vacation, by the way.

He's good for you."

"I think he is.

I still don't like his situation, but he seems to be as free as he says.

She was in Deauville this weekend, at a horse show.

It might be different when she's home.

We'll see.

She doesn't come home much.

His description of his marriage is out of a bad book.

It's sad to stay married like that."

"A lot of people do.

They settle for what they get, and then go looking for other people to make it work.

Be careful, though, they may have one set of rules for when she's away, and another set for when she's at home."

"Not according to him, but you may be right.

You seem to know more about all this than I do.

I always thought married was married, except for my father.

But all he ever wanted were pretty girls for the night.

I think my mother was the main event, as much as he was capable of it.

It's too bad he screwed it up.

She deserved a better deal than she got.

She was so good to him, and she really loved him.

She never forgave him once she found out, and then the roof caved in, and she left.

What's happening with you by the way? How's the little artist?"

"Delphine finally agreed to go out with me.

I've taken her to dinner seven times so far.

She hasn't slept with me yet.

She says I'm a slut, and she wants a serious relationship with a serious guy.

I'm thinking of cleaning up my act.

Maybe.

And now she wants a dog like Lulu."

Amanda laughed.

"Watch out.

She's just the kind of girl who'll get you one day."

"She's pretty amazing.

She's really smart.

And a good artist.

She won a prize at the Venice Biennale last year."

"That's impressive."

Amanda was more impressed that Delphine was trying to tame Pascal and hadn't slept with him yet.

She had definitely gotten his attention by doing that.

He was used to women falling at his feet, and into his bed.

—

Amanda worked hard at the gallery until Thursday night.

Then she and Olivier left for the promised weekend at the borrowed house in Saint-Tropez.

It was a beautiful home, with a cook, two maids, and a butler, who waited on them very discreetly.

They explored the shops in town, had drinks in the port, and admired the yachts.

They had dinner at the Caves du Roy, and then danced until three a.m.

They lay by the pool at the house in total luxury and privacy.

It was like a honeymoon.

With his wife out of town almost all the time, it was easy to forget that Olivier was married.

He didn't seem like he was, and didn't feel that way either.

He acted like a free man.

He introduced Amanda to people he knew, and they had drinks on the yacht of a friend of his, who had a woman with him who was not his wife either.

She was about to leave on Sunday, when the friend's wife was coming down to join him on the yacht.

It was a very different world for Amanda, this world of women who were not married to the men they traveled and slept with, and who knew they were married to someone else.

It was a whole subculture she had been unaware of before and never thought about.

She didn't like being considered part of it, and so far she wasn't open about it, but she was there in a front-row seat, which made her one of them, like it or not.

It didn't seem respectable to her.

They went back to Paris on Sunday night, and he stayed with her.

Stephanie was out of town, although he still insisted nothing would change when she was back.

While they were in Saint-Tropez, Amanda told him she had been invited to an art show in Venice, and asked if he wanted to go, and he said he couldn't when she told him the date.

"Both boys are coming home that weekend.

They haven't been home in ages.

It's their mother's birthday.

And I should be around.

I want to see my sons.

They only come home once or twice a year now, especially Guillaume from Buenos Aires."

It was the first weekend that he wouldn't be with her, and his wife would be in town, and the children.

It suddenly made Amanda feel left out, knowing he would be with them.

He obviously wanted to spend time with his sons, but it was going to be family time for him.

He had been generous with his time with her, but knowing he was going to spend a whole weekend with his family, she felt a flutter of butterflies in her stomach.

She was jealous of his being with them.

They were his family, and Stephanie was his wife, with all the dignity that entailed, and Amanda felt like the woman/"slut"

that he was sleeping with.

She didn't like the job title, although she was sure that she was closer to Olivier than his wife was, by far.

The rest of the time, she and Olivier forgot that he was married.

They had a full and busy life and went to a number of events together.

He introduced her to everyone with no explanation.

She didn't need one.

It was a world where relationships like theirs were commonplace and came with a multitude of perks, like a fancy Mercedes or the Bentley sport model.

Clothes and jewelry, and alligator Birkins with diamond clasps.

Amanda wanted none of those from him, or anything for that matter.

She had everything she needed.

She was more like his wife than a mistress when they traveled together, and so far his marital status hadn't interfered with them at all.

It was very different from the relationship she'd had previously with the married man who'd hidden her in cheap motels and lived in fear of being discovered by his wife.

Olivier was a much nicer person and he saw to it that Amanda was always respected, comfortable, and treated well.

—

When Olivier went home to get ready for his sons' visit, Amanda planned to get caught up on things she couldn't do when he was around: she wanted to do some reading, tidy her closets, have dinner with some of her artists.

She was going to work the following weekend.

She and Pascal had a show to hang, the weekends were the best time to do it, and she'd be busy while Olivier was with his kids.

Tom called her on Sunday night and asked if she could have dinner with him the following weekend.

He said the writing was going well, but he was going to take a break from the book and wanted to see her, and she told him she couldn't.

She said she was going to hang a show with Pascal, which was always a big undertaking.

They usually worked on hanging their shows until midnight for several nights.

Tom sounded a little miffed in his response when she said she was busy the next weekend, which told her he hadn't made any friends yet, but was working on his book and not going out.

It was also a wake-up call to her when she realized that she was jealous of the time Olivier was going to spend with his family.

It was a reminder that he was in fact married, and there were other people who were important to him in his life, and a priority.

But other than that, he had been with her almost constantly and rarely spent a night at home.

Pascal wondered if Olivier's wife knew he slept out so frequently, and if she'd react to it, but she hadn't so far.

Stephanie was constantly traveling to dressage shows with her horses, just as Olivier had said in the beginning.

And he seemed to be as free and available as he had claimed.

—

Amanda still got occasional odd calls late at night, which she assumed were the breather.

He called but much less frequently.

Olivier answered the phone at night, in a stern tone, and sometimes as soon as the caller heard a male voice, he hung up.

Olivier didn't like that she still got those calls, and had suggested changing her number, which was a nuisance she didn't want to bother with.

And she guessed that the caller was a random stranger who had picked her number.

They'd had no direct contact from Johnny Vegas, who Pascal had heard was back in rehab.

But someone was still calling her from time to time.

Johnny Vegas hadn't shown up at the gallery to threaten them for dropping him from their roster of artists.

He had even sent them a letter of apology, to make amends.

It was part of his current rehab program, so Amanda and Pascal didn't anticipate any further problems with him, unless he left rehab and started shooting heroin again.

They were sorry he was wasting his talent, and hoped he'd clean up, although they didn't want to represent him again, which he seemed to understand and accept.

—

Olivier was fascinated by the business, and loved what Amanda taught him about contemporary art.

She always had something to show him, or a story to tell him.

She included him in her world, when he had time.

He was never bored with her.

And he occasionally gave her good advice about her business.

He didn't invade her space, and she loved including him in it.

And Lulu got excited now whenever she saw him.

Amanda had given Olivier a closet, and he kept some things at her apartment so he could dress for dinner, or go straight to work, and have casual clothes for the weekend.

He felt totally at home in her apartment and had settled in quickly.

They had gotten used to each other.

She was sad when he left on Sunday night, two days before his sons were due to arrive.

Stephanie was due home on Sunday, a few hours before Olivier kissed Amanda and left.

The silence seemed a little worse to Amanda because she knew Stephanie would be there when he went home.

She knew it was foolish to be jealous of her.

Amanda had the best part of Olivier, but it bothered her anyway, and she sounded glum when Tom called her that night to invite her to dinner and she reminded him that she was hanging a show with Pascal.

"How's the book coming?"

"It's exciting,"

he said, "I've created the most intriguing murders.

No one is going to figure out who the murderer is until the last page,"

he added, gloating.

"That sounds terrifying,"

she said with a laugh.

"It is.

It's hard to keep it all together, and make sure all the loopholes are filled.

Is he there?"

he asked.

She didn't know who he was talking about.

"Who?"

She thought he might mean Pascal.

"Olivier, your boyfriend."

Amanda felt a little silly referring to him as that, since they were adults.

"No, why?"

"I just wondered.

Is he living with you now?"

She didn't want to answer his questions.

It was none of his business.

"I'm quite alone, thank you,"

she said stiffly.

"What about you? Have you met any nice women yet?"

"No, I've been writing.

That's why I'm here.

And not speaking French is a handicap trying to meet women in bars."

"Maybe you should take a quick Berlitz class.

But a lot of women speak English here, and there are all the foreigners: the Brits, the Dutch, the Scandinavians, the Germans.

They all speak English."

"I've been busy.

I'll let you know when I take another break from the book.

I'm sorry I forgot you were busy this weekend.

I lose track of everything when I write."

"Good luck,"

she said sincerely, but she didn't like the edge in his voice when he asked about Olivier, and sometimes even Pascal.

Tom still had a jealous streak, and was bitter about his divorce.

He hated his ex-wife, which didn't help his attitude about women.

She wondered if that came through when he tried to meet new ones.

She went back to her desk after Tom called and forgot about him quickly.

She made notes for the show they were going to hang that weekend, but found it hard to concentrate.

Her mind kept rolling back to Olivier, at his home with his wife.

Despite everything he had told her about his loveless marriage, knowing he was there with her was a knife in her heart.

She had lived through that before and didn't like being there again.

It was a bad déjà vu for her, and brought back painful memories.