are good at sport. There will even be dressing up in Sumo suits. Everyone can do that,’ Guy said, smiling.
‘Like at La Baume,’ Emma said, her voice soft.
‘Yes,’ he responded.
Simultaneously they both reached for the bottle of wine. Clashing fingers Emma withdrew her hand.
‘It is empty. I will order another,’ Guy said. He raised his hand to beckon the waiter.
‘No. I don’t think we should,’ Emma said. She already knew she’d drunk too much. Her head was starting to cloud and she had that tingling sensation in the back of her head she always got with red wine.
‘Why not?’ he asked as the waiter came over. ‘Another Merlot please.’
Why not? She didn’t have an answer for that. Not a politically correct one anyway. The truth was if she had more wine she wouldn’t be in control. She would feel a little too relaxed, off guard and vulnerable. She didn’t want to feel vulnerable with Guy. Before three glasses of wine he had melted her reserve, after three glasses and more she didn’t trust herself to say or do the right things.
‘Have you been back to La Baume since…?’ He left the question open-ended.
‘No.’ She shook her head with determination.
‘I have a house there. I rebuilt my mother’s house after she died,’ Guy informed.
Emma drew in a breath. The shock of what he’d said hit her hard. She held the table with her fingers until her knuckles whitened.
‘You remember how she drank?’ He paused. ‘Well, after Luc, it got worse. She did not see that as a chance to change or make something else of her life. She gave up,’ he explained.
‘Guy… I am so sorry.’ She couldn’t stop the tears now. Like raindrops they fell from her eyes and traced a path down her face. There had been so much pain.
‘Oh, Emma, do not cry. Not for her, please.’
He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. With a tender touch he caressed her fingers with his, trying to soothe her.
She wasn’t crying for his mother. She was crying for herself. But she had to say the right thing.
‘No matter what she did. She was your mother,’ Emma stated. Guilt was stabbing at her. This was her fault.
‘But she does not deserve your tears. And she is gone. Maybe to a better place, maybe not,’ he said with a shrug.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Emma repeated.
‘Non. No, do not be sorry. So much of what has happened is my mother’s fault. She is the one who should be sorry. And I do not think she ever was,’ he said.
He was rubbing her fingers now, touching the skin with rhythmic strokes that could only be aimed to test her. She couldn’t get lost in their reverie. She had to remain strong. She had to remember how he had betrayed her. But his hands felt so familiar on hers, so natural, like they were meant to be. And her heart was skipping. It skipped in a way it hadn’t done since they were last together.
He took his hand away as the waiter returned with the wine. He waited for him to pour before he spoke again.
‘Your father? Is he well?’
‘Oh yes. He’s fine. Perfectly fine,’ Emma said. She dabbed at her eyes with the napkin, trying not to smudge her make-up.
‘Is he with… the lady you did not like,’ Guy began.
‘Marilyn. No. No, he’s not with Marilyn. He’s actually looking for love on the internet.’
‘Wow. That is… different,’ Guy responded. He let out a laugh. Emma smiled.
‘Does he meet the ladies or do they just Facebook?’ Guy inquired.
‘Oh no, he meets them. There’s been a dog trainer and now someone called Rosemary.’
‘You are OK with this?’ Guy asked. He looked at her as if searching for her true feelings in her expression.
‘My mother’s been dead a long time now. He’s not sixty yet. I suppose he needs something else.’
‘You sound as if…’
‘As if what?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I want him to be happy but…’
‘You still miss your mother,’ Guy said, nodding.
‘It isn’t that,’ she snapped. Why had she overreacted like that? She did miss her mother. But by now, in her opinion, she should have healed completely… and she hadn’t.
‘It is not wrong to miss someone. No matter how long they have been gone,’ he continued.
His comment couldn’t have been more loaded, whether that was his intention or not.
‘I know,’ she whispered, meeting his gaze.
‘Feelings are sometimes difficult to interpret. What feels like the right thing to one person might seem wrong to another,’ Guy said.