The Mistress(79)
“It’s nice of you to offer.” But he could sense that she wasn’t going to take him up on it. She wanted to be independent.
“Do you have a number where I can call you?” he asked cautiously. “Just in case.” She hadn’t offered, and he didn’t want to leave without knowing where she lived or how to reach her. She jotted it down on a piece of paper and handed it to him solemnly.
“You’re the only person who has that number.”
“I’ll text you if I come to Paris. I hope you come to my show.” It was four months away, and he hoped he’d see her before that, but he wasn’t sure he would. “And remember the offer to stay at the house anytime you want. You can use it as an escape.”
“Thank you,” she said, and followed him out of the restaurant after he paid. He hailed a cab to take him to the airport, and she ran toward the subway, and he waved at her as they drove past. He laid his head back against the seat in the taxi, reeling again with the sight and sound of her. He couldn’t believe it. He was falling in love with her all over again. And this time it was worse. She was real. And just as unattainable as before, only differently. She had vowed never to let anyone clip her wings again. She was always somewhere out of reach. Before, she’d been a prisoner and belonged to someone else. Now she was free. But either way, she wasn’t his.
Chapter 17
Theo attacked his work with renewed energy after he’d been to Paris. He was excited about his upcoming show, and wanted to finish a fresh body of work for it. And seeing her had fueled him too. She was still the same, so magical and ethereal and bewitching, and yet she had a real life now, or wanted one, and was trying to forge one for herself. He didn’t use the number she had given him. If she wanted to talk to him, she’d call, he told himself. But she didn’t. He didn’t hear a word from her all through November.
Marc dropped by from time to time, to take a break from his own work. He had taken on a big commission for a local museum, and he was doing well. He promised to come to Paris this time for Theo’s show.
And Theo’s mother was in Paris. They were having fun and enjoying the city. She kept saying she’d be home soon, but they were making up for lost time, and even making noises about getting married in the spring, which their children thought was sweet.
At the end of November there was a terrible cold spell in the South, with frost on the ground every morning, and a light snow on the last day of the month. He would have thought it was pretty, but there was no heat in his studio, and his hands were always freezing, which made it hard to paint.
He was coming back from checking the deserted restaurant on his bicycle just after dusk, when he turned into his driveway and saw her, just standing there, with snow on her hair, freezing too. He knew she couldn’t have been waiting long, since he had left half an hour before. And she had a car in the driveway, but she had been standing in the falling snow, and smiled when she saw him. He got off his bike and walked it to the front door where she stood. He didn’t want to ask why she had come, but she saw the question in his eyes. She was wearing heavy boots and a warm coat.
“I came to ask you if you meant it,” she said softly.
“Meant what?” He was almost holding his breath, afraid to frighten her away, like a bird about to take flight, perched on his finger.
“That I could stay at the restaurant for a little while.”
“Of course.” He couldn’t believe his good fortune. It had been six weeks since he’d seen her in Paris and hadn’t heard a word since, and now here she was. She had suddenly appeared.
“I finished my class at the Louvre. I want to look for a job.” But she was scared, and didn’t want to say it. She felt like she had nothing to sell and no experience. Who was going to hire her at her age, never having worked anywhere except a factory eight years before? And what would she say? “I should have called before I came,” she said, looking apologetic. “I could stay at a hotel.”
“We’ve got six empty rooms.” He wanted to tell her that she could stay with him too, but he didn’t dare. She had to get there on her own. “I’ll take you over now if you want. There’s no food, but we can get something to eat after you drop off your bag. Can I ride with you?” She smiled, and they got in the car she had rented. She had driven down from Paris to clear her head. It had taken ten hours, but she liked the drive. And they were at the deserted restaurant a few minutes later. He opened the door with his keys and turned off the alarm, and then he turned the heat on for her. The house was cold, and the two security guards were posted outside. They greeted him pleasantly when he walked in, and he told them Natasha would be staying there.
He turned the lights on in the living room, and she wandered past the paintings she had seen before. They were more beautiful than she remembered. And it felt odd being there with him. She had been with Vladimir before, even if Theo had been there too. And then she laughed as she stopped in front of one of the paintings and looked at him.
“I should be wearing one of those ‘Not for Sale’ signs now.”
“Then someone might steal you,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“Neither would I.” Her eyes looked huge in her face.
He took her bag upstairs then and let her pick the bedroom she liked best, and he turned the heat on upstairs so it would be warm when they got back. And she smiled as she followed him downstairs, and they went back to her car, and went to a local place that served socca, which she had never had before. And they talked over dinner, remembering the past and savoring the present.