The Affair - Danielle Steel Page 0,17

would be, deservedly. Pascale was in the South of France with friends for the weekend, and he had told her he wouldn’t go so he could see his children. He could still call her and say there had been a change of plans. He could catch a commuter flight to Nice at Orly late that night, since Nadia didn’t want him with her mother, and he was grateful to avoid her.

Despite the agonies between them, Nadia and Nicolas were still a beautiful couple to look at. She was petite, with dark hair, and fair English skin that she inherited from her mother, and her mother’s blue eyes. Nadia’s were darker blue, like sapphires. She was always elegantly dressed in a quiet way that he had been proud of. She looked more French than American by now, and had always felt at home there. She had fit right in, from the moment she arrived at the Sorbonne. Her sisters were more American in their style and points of view. Nadia had always been more European, and in a way more like her Italian grandmother, who was warm and funny. Nadia didn’t have her mother’s cool, restrained English demeanor, or her sisters’ more open, outspoken American style. She was very French in her manner and way of seeing things, after living there for sixteen years. She was also a woman of dignity who kept her sorrows private, and he had exposed her to public scrutiny in the worst possible circumstances.

In contrast, Nicolas was fair, with thick blond hair and a chiseled face. She had always loved his looks but couldn’t bear to see him now. He was taller than most French men, broad shouldered and athletic, and looked like a movie star himself. They made a striking couple and, if anything, they had gotten even more attractive in the eleven years they had been married. In a subtle, quiet, distinguished way, Nadia wasn’t obvious or showy, like Pascale, who had dazzled him at first, blinded by her beauty and overt sexiness. Nadia was beautiful too, and infinitely smarter.

His success as a novelist had delighted Nadia, and she had been proud of him. He gave her all his manuscripts to read while they were in progress. She gave him helpful suggestions, which he followed most of the time. And now, in his own disarray, he couldn’t write a single sentence. He was too upset about both women to think about writing or anything else.

Her own decorating business had flourished, with projects in progress all over Europe. She was trying to keep it all going now and avoided discussing the scandal of his affair with her clients.

It was even more painful since they had talked about having a third baby for the last year or two, but decided they wanted to wait another year or so, hoping they’d be a little less busy. And now Nicolas was having his third child with someone else. It was another blow, which went straight to Nadia’s heart.

Their values had always been the same, or she had thought so, although he was more forgiving of his friends’ infidelities than she was. She always said it was a disgusting thing to do, and death to a marriage, and she told her women friends the same when they confessed their indiscretions to her. It was the one thing she didn’t like about French life, and she was outspoken about it. Now it had happened to her, and she either had to eat her words and tolerate it, or leave him and divorce him, American style. She was torn between her two cultures, and most ravaging of all was how much she loved him and wanted to turn the clock back to before it had happened. She couldn’t see how their marriage could ever be the same after this.

“Does everybody know?” Nicolas asked her miserably before he left the apartment. He always made a point of not looking at the tabloids.

“My client in Madrid called last week to tell me how sorry she was to read about it online, and then asked me if we’re getting divorced. She assumed we are,” Nadia said quietly and he nodded. “My clients in London all read it first, and they were nervous I’d move back to the States.”

“And would you?” he asked, panicked.

“I don’t know, Nicolas. The Titanic has hit the iceberg and I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about it.” She no longer felt at home in the

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