“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 States and hadn’t for years. She was much happier and more comfortable in France, or had been until now. She couldn’t imagine going back there to live, and she had a booming business, but Paris had suddenly become an agony for her. Everyone knew about Nicolas’s affair, even their grocer and dry cleaner, because Pascale was so famous. It was hard to live with. And she had the same horror as her mother of exposing her personal problems in her professional life. She felt naked to the world now. And he had done that to her. She didn’t want to run away, but his bad behavior hung over them like a toxic cloud. He had polluted their marriage, and their life.
He didn’t try to kiss her goodbye when he left. He knew better. He said good night. The girls were sleeping by then, and he slipped quietly out of the apartment and went to Pascale’s to throw some of his clothes into a bag so he could get to Saint-Tropez. He was living out of suitcases, which he hated, with one foot in each camp.
He thought of Nadia and was sorry to leave her, since he had hoped to spend the weekend with her and the girls, but he was relieved not to have to see his mother-in-law. That was a meeting he wasn’t looking forward to. And he knew that whatever she said to him, no matter how harsh, when they finally saw each other again, he deserved it.
For everything he had done and exposed Nadia to, he expected to be punished in the future. All he wanted was not to lose her, if he hadn’t already, even if he wasn’t worthy of her at the moment, given what he’d done.
What he needed was time, just enough to let things wind down gracefully with Pascale, after the baby came. But he had no idea if Nadia would give him that, or what she still felt for him. And Rose arriving in Paris terrified him. She was like a dark angel flying in to save her daughter, and he was sure she would be urging Nadia to leave and divorce him. He wondered if Nadia was going to listen to her mother and sisters. All he could do now was pray that what they had before would carry them through this disaster.
Her family were his enemies now, no longer his allies. He had lost their allegiance. He had never felt so alone in his life as he took a cab to Orly, thinking about both women. He tried to focus on Pascale and meeting her in Saint-Tropez for the weekend. But all he could think of was the pain in Nadia’s eyes whenever he saw her now, and he knew Rose would see it too, and hate him for it. He hoped that Nadia wouldn’t give up on him and would resist her mother’s pleas, but he had little hope that she would, as the tears slid down his cheeks. And he suddenly dreaded the weekend with Pascale in Saint-Tropez. His marriage was a high price to pay for his brief affair, and their baby. And what chance of happiness would that child have with such a tortuous beginning? He felt guilty for that now too.
Chapter 3
Rose’s plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport at eight a.m. After a brief spell in the bathroom on the plane, she emerged as perfectly coiffed as always, with just a hint of makeup, in a fresh crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a black linen blazer. She looked neat as a pin, and as though she had just stepped out of the pages of a magazine, and not flown all night on a plane. She was carrying a large, well-seasoned black alligator Hermès Haut à courroies bag that she always traveled with. Even in the airport, heads turned when she walked by. Between her height, her stark white hair, the way she carried herself, and her innate elegance, it was obvious that she was not just any traveler, with a VIP representative from the airline hurrying to keep up with her. Rose was eager to get to Nadia’s apartment and see her daughter.
There was a car and driver waiting for Rose when she got her luggage, and she gave him the address on the Quai Voltaire in her flawless French. She always spoke to her granddaughters in French as well. It was more comfortable for them, since Nadia was fluent and spoke to them in French too. Sylvie and Laure spoke English with a French accent, and managed when they had to.
The ride from the airport took less than an hour early on a Saturday morning, and Rose was pensive as she looked out the window at the familiar landscape. She came to Paris often on business, and was always happy to see Nadia and Nicolas and the children when she did. This time was different. She was here exclusively to support her daughter. Pascale’s announcing publicly that she was pregnant had made their current drama that much worse. Pascale and Nicolas were all over the press, and she could only imagine how devastated Nadia was. She wanted to see for herself. She was worried about how noble and decent Nadia was being, and thought her daughter should fight back. And divorce was certainly an option, perhaps even the wisest course, although Rose didn’t take divorce lightly.
* * *
—
Sylvie and Laure were having breakfast in their nightgowns when Rose arrived and rang the bell. Nadia buzzed her up, and when Rose got upstairs, Nadia stood looking at her mother for a moment with a smile and tears in her eyes.
“Thank you for coming, Mom,” she said in English. Her mother looked as perfect as ever. Nadia’s long dark hair was tousled and hanging down her back. She was in a pink cotton nightgown that made her look barely older than her daughters. Rose set down her small suitcase and the alligator bag, hugged Nadia, and followed her into the kitchen where the girls were eating and laughing with each other. They looked up in surprise when they saw their grandmother. Their mother hadn’t told them she was coming, to surprise them, and they leapt out of their seats and ran into her arms. They babbled happily with her for the next half hour, until their mother sent them to their rooms to get dressed and reminded Sylvie to help Laure do up her buttons and tie her shoelaces.
“They look fine,” Rose said, studying her daughter’s face. She looked tired and thin, with circles under her eyes, predictably.
“They don’t know what’s going on,” Nadia said quietly, and handed her mother another cup of coffee. Rose looked as though she was dressed for a meeting. Nadia was happy to see her.
“What about you? Anything new?” Rose watched her carefully.
“He was here last night. He wanted to spend the weekend with us.”
“That must be confusing,” Rose said, frowning, wondering if Nadia was still sleeping with him. She hoped not but didn’t want to ask. She was respectful of her children’s privacy and the sanctity of their relationships, which were none of her business, although Nicolas was proving to be the exception to the rule. His life had become the business of the entire world.
“I didn’t let him stay, obviously,” Nadia said with a sigh. “He keeps telling me how much he loves me, and that he’ll make a graceful exit after she has the baby. Apparently, she considers herself too young for marriage.”