Page 30 of Meet Me at Sunset

Warm spring sunlight spilled in through the tall French windows, casting pools of gold on the parquet flooring.

Baby Lucas, now almost ten months old, played happily on the rug with a wooden shaker.

He was a bundle of energy and had already mastered crawling, so now he was trying to pull himself up on the furniture, determined to learn to walk as soon as possible.

Camille had had to move all of her ornaments and breakables to higher shelves, as Lucas’s curiosity was insatiable, and she couldn’t turn her back for a moment.

Andre came through with a steaming cup of coffee and handed it to Camille, who was sitting in an armchair watching Lucas play.

‘Thank you,’ she said, looking up at her husband.

He looked especially attractive today in a fitted shirt and flared trousers that emphasized his great body.

The whole scene was idyllic, and Camille felt a burst of happiness at the sight of her little family.

It was constant hard work, but once Lucas had started sleeping through the night and she’d emerged from the fog of those early weeks, Camille found motherhood to be a creatively inspirational time.

The new designs she was sketching were better than ever, and she was sure that this latest collection was going to be their best yet.

She felt very positive about the future.

‘Should we take a stroll to the park this morning?’ she suggested, as she sipped her coffee.

The weather was bright after a week of grey skies and rain, and it was shaping up to be a perfect Saturday morning.

They had moved from the one-bedroom apartment they had rented in central Paris out to the sixteenth arrondissement, where they could get a larger property with space for a nursery.

Whilst they didn’t have a garden, they were close to the Bois de Boulogne, which was ideal for pushing Lucas in his pram.

Their new place was further from the office, but Camille didn’t mind the longer commute.

Besides, she often stayed at home designing now and only went into the atelier once or twice a week.

They’d employed a nanny to look after Lucas whilst she shut herself away to sketch, but she could see him whenever she took a break.

Camille, somewhat to her surprise, thoroughly enjoyed being a mother.

She had bonded quickly with Lucas and loved discovering the world through his eyes.

He was always excited to see her, and the adoration was mutual; to her, he was perfect.

‘Sure,’ Andre agreed, planting a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Sounds great. I’ll run down to the bakery, get us all some breakfast.’

‘Thanks, darling.’

Andre grabbed his wallet from the sideboard when the doorbell rang. They looked at one another in confusion.

‘Expecting anyone?’

Camille shook her head.

Andre spoke into the entry phone, and Camille heard Nicolas’s voice crackle over the intercom.

Camille felt something shift in her stomach.

She saw him less often now that she was no longer in the office every day, and she wasn’t entirely sure what her feelings were towards him.

He’d been present for the most momentous events in her life, and she was grateful he’d been with her when Lucas was born, but her mind often drifted back to that night in the atelier.

She’d been feeling low, and frustrated with Andre, and Nicolas had been there for her.

Not that he’d taken advantage – if anything, he’d been the one asking if she was sure, and she was the one who’d pushed ahead.

Camille felt a guilty twist of desire at the memory, Nicolas’s lovemaking had matured in their time apart, and he’d seemed to understand all those secret parts of her instinctively.

Andre strode down the corridor, as Camille stayed with Lucas. He was sitting up, bright and alert, trying to work out where Andre had gone. Lucas’s hazel eyes, which were so like hers, lit up at the sound of voices. He was a sociable baby and loved it when they had visitors.

Nicolas walked in and Camille stood up to greet him, kissing him on both cheeks.

Her feet were bare, and she wore wide-legged trousers with a paisley-print blouse.

Nicolas was dressed formally, even though it was the weekend, his clothes a neutral palette of greys and browns.

He certainly didn’t look as though he represented a fashion house, she thought affectionately, though the plain clothes couldn’t hide his toned physique and handsome face.

He held out a bottle of Moet the mood dying quicker than the bubbles. ‘But they approached me, it was too good to refuse, and it feels like the right time …’

‘It was supposed to be the three of us. It was always the three of us,’ Camille whispered. The colour had drained from her face, and she looked stunned.

‘It’s called Camille Andre,’ Nicolas said softly, but with steel in his eyes. ‘I’m not sure there was ever room for me.’

‘We can change the name if that’s what you want,’ Camille suggested desperately. ‘Give you a salary rise, a higher percentage split, whatever you want …’

‘I’ve made up my mind. Look, you’re well established now, turnover and revenue are increasing year on year – you don’t need me. I was thinking of Charles Cazeneuve over at Pierrot. He could be a great replacement, and I know he’s looking to jump ship.’

‘I don’t want Charles Cazeneuve, I want you ,’ Camille exploded, her voice shaking.

The two men stared at her, astonished by her outburst. Lucas began to cry, and Camille closed her eyes, as though it was all too much to deal with.

‘He’s tired,’ she said quietly, as Andre scooped up Lucas. ‘Can you put him down for his nap?’

Andre looked from Camille to Nicolas and back again, but didn’t protest. He understood that the two of them needed to talk. ‘Sure,’ he said evenly. He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

There was a long moment of silence, until Camille couldn’t hold her feelings in any longer. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this. I can’t believe you’re leaving me.’

Nicolas moved towards her, reaching out for her, but she jumped back as though she’d been electrocuted.

The memories were still fresh of the last time he’d comforted her, the way she’d allowed herself to fall into his arms, and everything that had happened afterwards.

She needed to stay strong. She folded her arms across her chest and turned on him, eyes blazing.

Being angry with him was easier than confronting the tangled emotions she was feeling right now.

‘I can’t live this lie any more,’ Nicolas whispered, keeping his voice low, conscious of Andre in the room along the hall.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Be around you . And Andre, and Lucas. The three of you playing happy families and pretending it doesn’t tear me apart.’ His voice sounded strangled. ‘It’s breaking my heart every single day, knowing that I’ll never be a part of your world again, or be able to have that for myself.’

‘Of course you will. You’ll meet someone and fall in love,’ Camille assured him, as tears filled her eyes.

There was a pause. Nicolas looked down at the floor, avoiding Camille’s eyes, and then the penny finally dropped.

‘Lisa,’ Camille said, inhaling sharply. Nicolas nodded, and Camille felt a wave of panic and fury and jealousy wash over her.

Lisa Schwartz was American and worked as a data analyst for Goldman Sachs.

She was on secondment in Paris, and she and Nicolas had been dating for just over three months.

Camille had met her only once, and her overriding impression was of an intimidatingly self-confident, whip-smart and flawlessly groomed young woman who was clearly destined for great things. Camille had hated her instantly.

‘She’s decided to return to New York,’ Nicolas explained. ‘And I’m going with her. I want to try and make things work between us.’

Camille nodded slowly, fighting unsuccessfully to hold back the tears. She knew she had no right to be upset – she should be happy for Nicolas that he’d finally found someone he cared about – but selfishly all Camille could think was that she didn’t want him to leave.

‘Are you in love with her?’ she whispered, knowing that she didn’t want to hear the answer, knowing that his words would be like a knife wound.

‘Yes,’ he said simply.

‘You barely even know her.’

‘Goddamn it, I want to give this a chance.’ There was desperation in Nicolas’s voice now. ‘I compare every single woman I meet to you, Camille, and they can’t live up to it. It’s driving me to despair. This is the best way for everyone. A clean break. A fresh start. An ocean between us.’

Camille searched his face. ‘Does it have to be so final? You’ve been in my life for so long now. Barely a day has gone by where I haven’t seen or spoken to you, and now you want to move to another continent? How am I going to live without you?’

‘You have Andre,’ Nicolas said, and the unspoken accusation hung in the air between them: You chose him over me. ‘If you ever need me for anything – anything at all – I’ll always be there at the end of the phone.’

‘What about Lucas?’ Camille asked, her eyes searching his.

‘What about him?’

‘He’s going to miss you. He …’ Camille faltered. ‘You won’t be around to see him grow up. He’s your godson, Nicolas.’

Nicolas considered her words, the air between them thick with tension. ‘I’ll always do right by Lucas,’ he said finally, a desperation in his voice. ‘But I must move on with my life, Camille. You’re keeping me prisoner.’

Camille was about to protest, but deep down, she knew he was right.

She would miss him desperately, but she had to let him be free.

What was the phrase? If you love someone, let them go .

She loved him, and he loved her, but she had chosen Andre and now he had found Lisa. It was time to let Nicolas go.