of the Riviera. They come to take selfies in front of other people’s parked Ferraris and Bentleys. Or maybe I’m not so weary and just more partial to the place in the mountains I now call home.
The peace and seclusion.
The man who finds me there.
Remy hasn’t mentioned ownership of the house again. He seems satisfied that I call it home. Which is exactly what it feels like, and I love the way he smiles when I say so. We’ve slept in the same bed together every night since he checked himself out of the hospital. I want to smile so wide when I think about it because sleep isn’t the only thing we do.
It’s almost like we’ve found a new religion and become a couple of zealots, because we just can’t get enough of each other.
I know all relationships have a honeymoon period, but this is kind of insane. I’ve even gone as far as making an appointment with Doctor Google to try to diagnose the reason for my own sexual insatiability where Remy is concerned. I can’t say it was all that much help. But in all seriousness, it’s like everything between us is heightened since his accident. Heightened because every feeling is just a little more, every declaration of love a little more fervent. We know what we nearly lost, and we’re making up for what might never have been. Quite honestly, when I dwell on the strength of my feelings for him, it becomes scary.
To think I almost lost him.
My attention is drawn to the door as the wave of German nationals file out. There are still one or two people being served at the glass counters. A couple buying a graduation gift, I decide, and a younger man buying a watch for his girlfriend. At least, these are my imaginings.
‘Rose?’ I lift my head at the sound of my name. Oh. Yuri’s troubled expression doesn’t look very promising. ‘I, erm, don’t know how to tell you this,’ she says, producing a clear plastic pocket containing Remy’s watch.
‘You have it! For a minute, I thought it was lost.’ I pull a face, conscious of the inadvertent slight I’ve just delivered. ‘Crazy, right?’
‘Actually,’ she lowers her voice, drawing closer as though to impart a secret. ‘We couldn’t officially repair it. Because it’s not a genuine Omega watch.’
‘What?’ The word is a tremulous chuckle. ‘That can’t be right.’
‘I know it’s vintage. I can definitely tell you that,’ she says, turning the thing in her hand. ‘But it doesn’t have a serial number. The workshop says the mechanics aren’t authentic, either.’
‘Yuri.’ I draw closer too, so as not to be overheard. ‘The watch belongs to Remy. It has to be genuine.’ I know she knows who I’m talking about because I saw her talking to Charles in a nearby coffee shop, and I know he can’t keep his mouth shut about anything.
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘How am I supposed to explain this to him? It’s his grandfather’s watch.’
‘At least you can tell him it’s fixed.’ Her hands open, and she gives a tiny shrug. ‘I mean, it hasn’t had an official service or anything, but because you’re one of our most valued customers,’ she means the concierge service is, ‘Pierre asked the workshop to see what they could do.’
‘Well, I guess that’s something.’ I find myself nodding as I resolve not to mention any of this to Remy. I mean, it’s not like this is his only watch. He has at least a dozen more back in the closet at the penthouse and can probably afford a hundred more. As awkward as this knowledge is, I don’t have to pass it on and embarrass him. I got his grandfather’s watch repaired, which is what I set out to do, so I’m calling it a win.
Yuri takes my credit card to ring up the invoice while I take a look at the new season’s wares. I’m not looking for myself, but more in a professional capacity when something sparkly catches my eye. A diamond-encrusted Deville Ladymatic.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
I look up at the deep voice and straighten, a little embarrassed. ‘Did I just make a noise?’
‘You did. Like a magpie about to peck the glass and flee the scene.’
‘Well, I do like sparkly things,’ I reply, adding a little confusion to my embarrassment.
‘Carson Hayes.’ He holds out his hand for me to shake. He’s tall and blonde with swimmers’ shoulders; the kind of all-American golden boy movies love to depict.