‘He was.’ The admission still makes my spine stiffen, but I try to push all that away. He says he didn’t make an adulterer out of me, so if he doesn’t feel bad, why should I? But it goes deeper than that. It wasn’t an oversight that he didn’t tell me; a lie of omission is still a lie.
I pause, picking up my glass because I’ve no intentions of telling them about March, or even how I didn’t know about Amélie. I don’t want to add idiot to ho bag when the gossip machine starts to blacken my name. Stick to the plan, I silently intone. You don’t owe them all the things. ‘Well, you see—’
‘I want to tell!’ Charles claps his hands together like a performing seal, bouncing in his seat. ‘Monsieur Durrand, il m’a confié—he confided in me. I need to say before I burst! Also, the man is not so scary as his reputation.’ He presses a hand to his chest and sighs like a teenage girl with a crush. ‘The words ’e say? Such love ’e feels!’
‘Well, this should be interesting.’ It seems this might be a night of many mutterings as I take a deep swallow because, as it turns out, Charles is that teenage girl. A better analogy might be that he’s Pepe le Pew. He thinks he’s crushing on another skunk, when in fact, Remy Durrand is a whole other animal.
‘He told me that Amélie broke off the engagement before she went travelling last. Zat he’d fallen ’ead over ’eels in love with Rose.’
‘Oh, that’s so romantic!’
It’s so something, all right. So not true, at least in parts. It’s also confusing because even though it makes me smile, I also want to cry because Remy can’t be trusted.
‘’E loves you—why are you not smiling?’ Charles’s tone is more than a little piqued and—oh my God. That’s why he told Charles—he was playing with me, yes. But more than that, he knows his big mouth will blab. But now he’s going to blab his version of events, which doesn’t paint me as the woman who puts the ho in homewrecker, but someone who he love. And not at all a liar, either.
‘So this is why you moved to this place?’ Fee’s gaze immediately drops to her glass, her expression aghast. She’d make a pretty poor poker player.
‘I didn’t ask for this.’ I can feel my expression twisting. If Fee’s thinking it, others will, too. ‘The truth is, I didn’t get a choice. Not that anyone will believe I’m dating my boss for anything but the perks.’
‘Oui, the man, he has many, many perks.’ Like an old-time game show hostess, Charles uses his hands to mime a prize like Remy. The curve of his bicep, the handsomeness of his face, and the depths of his pockets. Unless that last mime was a reference to the baguette.
‘Of course people won’t those things,’ Fee protests, indignant on my behalf despite her assumption about this apartment. ‘And if they do, well, you know better.’ She nods decisively, as though that’s the only thing that matters.
‘When I first met him, I didn’t even know who he was,’ I complain, swinging around to face Charles. ‘I swear to God, Charlie, if you tell anyone anything about this—’
‘I say nothing!’ he retorts, his eyes as wide as dinner plates, his little flounce one of outrage that I would even dare suggest such a thing.
‘Is that why his cousin was so insistent in the club that night?’ My attention moves to Fee, once Charles is suitably served the stink eye. ‘I thought he was coming on to you, but maybe he was warning you off?’
‘More like scoping me out,’ I add quickly, not wanting to be drawn. ‘He apologised later. It’s all good.’ It’s so not all good, though Ben is the least of my problems having redeemed himself a little by doing what Remy should’ve done. By telling me the truth. And whatever his deal was that Saturday, at least he apologised. And he’s not interested in me, thankfully.
‘Let me tell you something.’ Lips pursed, Fee leans forward as though afraid of being overheard. Maybe she doesn’t realise Charles is just dying to spill the tea, aka spill the gossip, if he hasn’t already started. He’s not malicious, as far as I can tell. It’s more like he just can’t keep his mouth shut, especially in the office.
‘I never liked that Amélie. She came to spin class