One Summer in Paris(9)

He would never want to see her hurt, let alone hurt her himself. Knowing that, she felt her panic turn to fear. He didn’t want to hurt her but he was doing it anyway—which meant this was serious. He’d decided he’d rather hurt her than stay with her.

“I don’t understand.” Surely if something hadn’t been right, she’d have known? She and David had been a team for as long as she could remember. Without him she would have fallen apart all those years ago. “What hasn’t been right, David?”

“Our lives have become… I don’t know. Boring.” His forehead glistened with sweat. “Predictable. I go to work in the same place, see the same people and I come home every day to—”

“To me.” It was all too easy to finish his sentence. “So what you’re really saying is that I’m predictable. I’m boring.” Her hands were shaking and she clasped them in her lap.

“It’s not you, Grace. It’s me.”

The fact that he was shouldering the blame didn’t help. “How can it be all you? I’m the one you’re married to and you’re unhappy—which means I’m doing something wrong.” And the problem was that she loved the fact that their life was predictable. “I grew up with unpredictability, David. Believe me, it’s overrated.”

“I know what you grew up with.”

Of course he did.

Was she boring? God, was it true?

It was true that she was a little obsessed about them being good parents to Sophie, but that was important to David, too.

He undid another button on his shirt and gestured to the waiter to bring more water. “Why is it so hot in here? I don’t feel too good… I can’t remember what I was saying…”

She didn’t feel too good, either. “You were telling me you want a divorce.”

She hadn’t believed that word would ever come up in a conversation between her and David, and she wished it hadn’t come up now, in a public place. At least two of the people in the bistro had children in her class—which was unfortunate, given the nature of this conversation.

Mommy says you’re getting divorced, Mrs. Porter, is that right?

“Grace—”

David took a sip of water, and she noticed there was a tremor in his hand. He was looking pale and ill.

She was pretty sure that if she looked in the mirror she’d think the same about herself.

What about Sophie? She’d be devastated. What if she was too upset to go away for the summer? It was terrible, awful timing.

Monica would probably blame red meat. Too much testosterone.

“We can talk to someone, if you think that would help. Whatever it is that needs working on, we’ll work on it.”

“Fixing our marriage isn’t something you can add to your ‘To Do’ list, Grace.”

She felt color flood into her cheeks, because mentally she’d been doing exactly that. “We’ve been married for twenty-five years. There is nothing—nothing—we can’t fix.”

“I’m having an affair.”

The words were like a solid punch to her gut.

“No!” Her voice cracked. And that was how she felt. Cracked. Broken. As if she were a piece of fine china he’d flung against the cabinet. “Tell me that isn’t true.”

She was going to be sick. Right here in a pretty little French bistro, in front of an audience of around fifty people, she was going to be sick.

She could imagine how the kids in her class would react to that.

Did you barf, miss?

Yes, Connor. I barfed, but it had nothing to do with the duck.

David looked worse than she felt. “I didn’t plan it, Grace.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

She had a thousand questions.

Who is this woman? Do I know her? How long has it been going on?

In the end she asked only one. “Do you love her?”

David rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “I—Yes. I think so, yes.”

She almost doubled over. Not just sex, then, but feelings. Strong feelings.

It was the ultimate betrayal.

She stood, although her legs didn’t seem to agree with the decision. They felt like water. But she didn’t want the local community to witness any more of this conversation—not for his sake but for hers and Sophie’s. How much had people heard already? Was she going to be stopped in the supermarket?

I hear David doesn’t love you? That must be tough.

“Let’s go.”

“Grace, wait!” David fumbled for some bills and dropped them on the table without counting them.

Grace was already halfway to the door, the box filled with her Paris plans tucked under her arm. She had no idea why it seemed so important to take it with her. Maybe she didn’t want to leave her dreams lying around. The happy summer she’d spent months planning wasn’t going to happen. Instead, they’d spend the time dividing up property and belongings and consulting lawyers.

The reality of it swamped her.

David was the love of her life. He was the solid foundation upon which she’d constructed her wonderfully safe, predictable world. Without him the whole thing would crumble.

She felt as if she was having an out-of-body experience. Her mind was elsewhere but her body was still here in this bistro, going through the motions. Smiling, leaving—thank you, yes, the meal was delicious—as if her life hadn’t just been torn apart.