With any luck, he’d have an hour to himself. It was already four o’clock. He hadn’t had a chance to catch his breath from the moment he’d left Pierre’s. One thing after another, complete with emergency surgery that left him weak-kneed. Too much in one day.
Estelle had looked good. Never better. She must have dressed with him in mind that morning, remembering that green was his favorite color. That dress was a knockout. Eyes turned when they walked into Pierre’s. He’d forgotten the commotion she could cause merely by looking the way she did. And as always, she seemed coolly oblivious to the stares.
Jacques had been surprised to see them. “Dr. Perelle, Miss Lauren!” he’d exclaimed with a little bow. “It’s been too long.” Jacques remembered which table they’d always requested and seated them ahead of waiting customers. Estelle settled in across from him, smiling, with no hint of the nervousness he felt.
“You look wonderful,” he said.
“So do you.”
He’d thought all morning about how much he should tell her. About Kit’s baby? Certainly not that Alison had been his child. He could picture her reaction to that piece of news. Should he tell her about Cynthia? No, he couldn’t tell her any of it. He realized with a jolt that he’d always censored his communication with her. He didn’t even want to tell her about Rennie, as though sharing her with Estelle would tarnish her in some way. He didn’t trust her to respect the things he cherished.
She told him about her therapy. In the beginning they’d put her on medication, she said, though not for long. She wasn’t taking anything now.
Psychotropic drugs. How could he not have known she’d been that seriously ill? A big help he’d been to her back then.
“I progressed very rapidly,” she said. “The shrink was amazed.” She smiled and looked at him. “Losing you really opened my eyes.”
He didn’t want to talk about the breakup. “Have you made any friends up there?” he asked.
She nodded. “I joined a health spa and I’ve made some friends through that.”
“A health spa? With exercise classes and all?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s fantastic.” He grinned at her, trying to picture Estelle in tennis shoes. “How about men?”
She was quiet while Jacques poured her wine. Cole held his hand over his glass. He couldn’t afford a light head with all he had to do that afternoon.
“No one special yet,” she said when Jacques walked away. “I’ve been seeing a couple of men but”—she shrugged—“no chemistry.” She took a sip of her wine. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine. I’d say she’s fully recovered, both physically and emotionally.”
“Corinne and the girls?”
He was surprised by her warmth. She had definitely changed. He put his doubts aside and told her about Rennie and the possibility of adopting her. He told her the details of the accident and found himself loving the look of concern that came into her face. He stopped short of telling her that he and Kit had found that house on the bay. It would be cruel to tell her they were moving out when she’d begged him for years to do exactly that and he’d refused.
Their lunches were served and they began to eat in a comfortable silence. After a few minutes, she set down her fork and looked up at him. “Cole,” she said. “I miss you.”
“There are things I miss about you, too,” he said carefully, suddenly afraid of the intensity in her eyes.
“Don’t be angry with me for saying this, but I still love you. I think about you so often. I’m afraid I’ll never meet anyone like you.”
“Why would I be angry with you for loving me?” he said. “You’ll find someone, Estelle. It takes a little time, but you will.”
“Do you still love me?”
He put down his own fork and reached across the table to take her hand. “I don’t love you the way I once did, but I still care about you,” he said. “I was very pleased that you called, but—”
“Don’t say ‘but’,” she said quickly, gripping his hand with both of hers. “Cole, please. Let’s try it again. I’m different now. You can tell, can’t you? It can work this time.”
He was stunned. “Estelle—”
“We can live in Mantoloking if you like.” She was speaking French now, her ultimate weapon of seduction. “I don’t care where I live as long as we’re together. My priorities have changed. I’ve changed. I wasn’t responsible for my actions back then. I was sick. Don’t punish me for something I had no control over.”
“It’s not a matter of punishment,” he said in English. “It’s—”
“It would be so different now.”
“Estelle, I’m in love with Kit.”
For an instant he caught a glimpse of the old Estelle hiding behind the new facade. Narrowed eyes, a twisted smile. But she caught herself quickly.
“I know you are,” she said. “But can you really tell me it’s as good with her as it was with me? In our good years, I mean?”
“How can I answer that honestly without hurting you?”
Her eyes filled with venom, and he withdrew his fingers from hers quickly, repelled.
“You fell right into the trap she set for you. Can you actually sit there and tell me that Kit can give you everything I can?” Her voice was rising and people glanced at her from other tables.
“Estelle,” he said quietly. “Lower your voice.”
“I will not! And talk to me in French, damn it.”
“You’re still sick,” he said in French, not to please her as much as to prevent the other diners from understanding their conversation. “Maybe sicker than you were before. Are you still in therapy?”
She threw her head back with a laugh, embarrassingly loud. “I never was in therapy. You think that’s the answer to everything, baring your soul to some stranger. Forget it! I’ll never do it.”
The woman at the next table let out an irate “Shh!”
“If you don’t lower your voice, I’m going to leave.” He watched her face change again. Now she looked weak and desperate.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Don’t go. All right, I understand. For whatever reason you want to stay with Kit. I have to accept that. But please, I’m only here for a few days. Couldn’t you spend some time with me?”
He knew what she wanted, and it had little to do with time. “Absolutely not,” he said.
“You said you still care about me. The Kensington Hotel is right next door, remember? Remember all those after-lunch rendezvous?”
“I’m leaving.” He pushed his nearly full plate away from him and stood up.
“Cole, I’ll kill myself. I swear to God I will.”
He leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “You need help, Estelle. But I can’t be the one to give it to you anymore.”