11. Don’t Leave Me This Way

Seven minutes.

And not many more words.

“I don’t love you. I want to get married, I want children. You’ve already had everything. Amongst all women, you are like a Ferrari, but I don’t want a Ferrari. It’s too much. I just want a Volkswagen bus.”

“Hugo, please stay, you cannot leave now, let us talk about it!” I sobbed.

“I can’t. I have to go.” His face was hard but his voice sounded chocked.

He turns around, walks to the front door. Opens it.

Closes it from the outside.

He is gone.

* * *

Oh god, it cannot be. Please, no. That had gone completely wrong. Our agreed time out of two weeks was over this evening; I had been looking forward to seeing him, I wanted to dispose of all problems once and for all, make up for everything.

I could feel the rug being pulled out from under me. I slumped down.

I somehow managed to grab my mobile and press Isabella’s name on the favourites list.

“Love? What’s going on? Didn’t Hugo want to come by this evening for your big talk?”

“Yes - he was - here - he doesn’t - love - me - anymore,” I babbled breathlessly. “I - can’t - breathe.”

“I’ll be with you in ten minutes! Lie down and try to breathe very slowly - inhale, exhale! Are the kids asleep?”

“Yes-”

“Good. If necessary, wake them up and send them to your neighbour to get help. I’ll be there soon, love, I will hurry! Hang on in there!”

“OK.” I hung up and stared at the phone.

She must have knocked on the door and I must have opened it for her. At some point I was no longer alone on the sofa. I leaned my head on Isabella’s shoulder, my arms wrapped around my legs. I couldn’t cry. My entire body was trembling. The pain was physically perceptible - somewhere in my chest, taking my breath away. It hurt so much I was not able to think of anything else. I just couldn’t comprehend. Not Hugo. Hugo could not leave me. Hugo, who had told me one week after we got together that he loved me (and I had thought he was crazy). Hugo, whom I had taken for granted. Whose needs I had not taken seriously.

“Love, you’re in a state of shock. Please tell me at once if you are starting to feel any worse and I will call a doctor immediately.” Isabella was very gentle but I could sense her determination.

“There was one here just now.”

“My god, of course. I did not think of that. That’s even more irresponsible! He has an ethical responsibility as a doctor, doesn’t he? How can he, just like that, end your relationship, your life together with one sentence and then just disappear immediately? I can’t believe it!”

“He was here for exactly seven minutes.”

“My love, I am so sorry. You have my deepest sympathies. I appreciate that you’ve been carrying around this fear since your childhood trauma with your father, the feeling of being abandoned and now it’s like a nightmare come true. I’ll promise you something, you will not end up like your mother. Yes, you will suffer like a dog for three months. You will wake up every morning and think you cannot take it anymore. Then, one day, after three months, you know this page will have turned. It is no longer your first and final thought, it hurts less and less and it starts to heal. Please don’t forget how much your girls need you.”

“I know,” I whispered, “they love Hugo as well. Especially Marie. She has spent more time with him than with Jean, and now-” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I could feel myself welling up. I had made a complete mess of it. My children had had a chance to have a normal family life and I had messed it up. “We were going to go on holiday to Croatia in two weeks’ time. The girls were so looking forward to it!” The thought of having to disappoint them and to look into their sad faces was too much.

“Here, take two of these.” Isabella handed me a small white plastic pill container. The label read Happy Camper and showed a simple colourful drawing of a boy happily stretching out on a cloud.

I instinctively wrinkled my nose. “What is that?”

“It’s Kava Kava, don’t worry it’s all herbal. It’s mood-improving, just like hypericum and valerian. You can only buy it in the U.S.,” Isabella explained.

I took my glass of red wine and flushed down two capsules with a large sip. “I’ll write him a letter now. I have to do something. I can’t believe it has come this far.”

“You do that honey,” Isabella encouraged me. “I will stay here.”

I went to my desk, took out a writing pad and started to write. I appealed to him to consider that our love was something special which should not be thrown away; I understood that my selfishness had driven him away but I could also be a Volkswagen bus if that is what he wanted, I could defer my needs to his needs, have another child... I wrote a plea that was built on logical arguments and designed to invalidate Hugo’s statements. I could do no more than that. Satisfied with my powers of conviction, I placed the letter in an envelope and sealed it. I reminded myself, with some unease, of my conversation with Isabella where I had told her that I didn’t love Hugo. Clearly I had said that in some mood. Of course I loved him and I had to get him back. He wouldn’t be able to refute my arguments.

Isabella looked up from the newest edition of InStyle magazine when I returned to the living room. “Look, here is a photo of Kate wearing that Chloé top which you bought the other day,” she remarked and held up the magazine.

“Yes I saw that - of course it looks better on her,” I sighed and plunged on the sofa. “Oh, honey, how could it come to this? Since my counsel promotion Tracey has pushed even more transactions on to my desk, in which I’m to take the lead - although she does not fail to remind me of the oh so important hierarchy: ‘but of course, do copy me into all correspondence, as I am still your supervising partner’,” I imitated Tracey’s nasal tone.

Isabella sniggered at my attempt at parody.

“In addition it’s expected of me to do lots of marketing, which I like - at last that means I can reactivate all my contacts. However, it means, in addition to the normal work load, that I have to do lunches and dinners and travel more. All of which means I’ll have even less time for Hugo, let alone the girls.” I sighed again.

Michael Stone had been right. How on earth could I imagine I was able to reconcile all these factors? I always had wanted everything - a career, children and a man - but somehow it didn’t seem to work. On the other hand, there were so many fabulous women - beautiful, successful, independent and intelligent - who seemed to have it all. Although, personally, I didn’t know of one who had actually found, in her relationship, the fulfilment that she longed for. Admittedly, my relationship with Hugo did not fulfil me either; hence my conviction at some stage that I didn’t love him. That wasn’t the point though - Hugo had to learn to create the space that he needed and I had to learn to give him that space.

“Hmm. When is that woman finally going to return to London? Shouldn’t that have already happened?” Isabella interrupted my stream of thought.

“Tracey has not mentioned her return to London for a while - indeed, when I think about it, she never mentions it and only smiles in a strange way when Michael Stone, Richard Keel or another banking partner raises it. I am starting to believe that she doesn’t intend to return to London, in the near future, at all.”

Isabella looked at me with astonishment. “No! You really think so?”

“The more I think about it the more I’m convinced that that is the case. She insists that she is the only English banking partner in the office, you know! Her peculiar way to insist on that reminds me of this Welsh character from Little Britain - ‘I’m the only gay in the village!’” I made a bad attempt at imitating a Welsh accent. It came out sounding more Caribbean.

“That makes sense - why should she give up her position here when she would probably just be one of many in London? Now I understand everything,” Isabella mused. “That means of course that you are in her way!”

“Come off it - I’m no danger to her - she’s the partner, not me!”

“Why not? You are in every respect a danger to her. You have personality, style, a career, adorable children, a gorgeous man, a great figure plus you are a kind person - that’s too much for her, she cannot possibly bear to face this every day. One has to be very self-confident in order to do that. I can only do it because I love you so much!”

“Oh dear,” I protested. “Darling you are very sweet but you know very well what it is really like behind the façade - and which gorgeous man? He’s gone, remember?” I was tearing up again but the thought of Tracey prevented me from bursting into tears. I paused to collect myself. “Tracey has to go back to London eventually - her husband and children have already moved into their new house in Blackheath. Tracey flies to London every weekend.”

Since she often arranged for important client meetings on Fridays or Monday she was able to bill the flight costs to the firm’s marketing budget, which was quite common practice. Although she wouldn’t be able to do that too often. Also, even considering her work mania, I could not imagine that any mother would be able to bear being separated from her children on weekdays over a protracted period. I dismissed the thought.

“I’m just saying, watch your back. If she stays, you will have to push past her.”

“That’s not my style. I would have to make an even greater effort to be made partner, even though that has basically been promised to me. Anyway, at the moment I don’t care, I just want to have Hugo back!”

“Then go to his house and put the letter into his letter box. I’ll come with you.”

I sniffed. “OK. Actually Jana is staying here tonight anyway as I thought Hugo and I may go out. I’ll just leave her a note in case she wakes up.”

I went into the kitchen and scribbled a message for Jana.

We drove the short distance to Hugo’s apartment and posted the envelope in his letterbox. Ten minutes later Isabella dropped me back home.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come back in?” she asked anxiously, through the open car window. I was already by the front door, searching in my bag for the keys.

“No, don’t worry, love. I’ll try to get some sleep - with the help of a bottle of red wine and some valerian capsules.” I felt drained. All I wanted to do was to crawl under my blanket.

“OK, but you know you can call me any time, day or night. I will leave my phone switched on.” Isabella blew me a kiss and drove off.

I waved her good-bye and then dropped my hand. I looked at both my hands. Hugo had given me those rings. They were not Cartier but they had come from his heart. Big teardrops were now falling onto them. I unlocked the door and went inside.

* * *

Two days and three sleepless nights had gone by and I had not heard from Hugo. It was Monday. I had somehow dragged myself into the office and was now staring out of the window, incapable of thinking about anything else. I gathered all my courage, took the telephone and dialled Hugo’s office number.

“Dr. Walther’s office, how can I help you?” The receptionist answered.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson. It’s Chloé Krakowski - can I speak to him please?”

“Hello! Yes of course - I think he is free right now. Just a moment please.”

While I waited I could feel my heart beating fast.

“Uhm, Chloé?” Hugo answered hesitantly. He hardly sounded pleased.

“Hello, Hugo.” I swallowed. “Have you read my letter?”

“Uhhh - ahem - no. Which letter?”

That was strange. Hugo checked his letter box every morning, even on Sundays when there was no postal delivery. “The one I dropped at your house Friday night. Did you not check your letter box?”

“Uhm. No.”

The blinkers fell from my eyes. “Oh my god. You have not been home since Friday night.”

He hesitated. “No,” he admitted.

“Oh god. Hugo. Who is she?”

“Her name is Alina. She is twenty-six. She wants children, she-”

“Hugo, please. I don’t believe it! OK, I understand you. I’m not angry with you but please read my letter before you throw away everything that we have!”

“Chloé - I can’t.”

“Do you love her?”

“No! I don’t know. I-”

“Please Hugo! Think about us!” I was desperate. Was it too late?

“I still mean what I told you, Chloé - I don’t love you.”

It somehow sounded rehearsed but there it was. The deal-breaker. I could not argue with that and he knew it.

“OK,” I whispered. “I understand. Take care.” I carefully replaced the receiver as if it was fragile. At that moment my landline rang, nearly giving me a heart attack. Tracey. Great timing.

“Hi Tracey,” I managed with enormous effort.

“I have a small deal here; we won’t get a lot of money for it as it’s a favour for Holman Bank, but I thought you could do it.”

She made it sound like good news. In fact, however, this would be bad news for my performance statistic since I would not be able to make any profit. Tracey was aware that good figures were essential for a partnership business case, but I had no choice and she knew it.

“Yes. Sure,” I replied. “I’ll come over.”

I hung up again, dried the swelling tears and walked to her office with my head down, hoping that nobody would talk to me on my way there.

She looked up from her draft. “So, the client needs the first draft by tomorrow - is everything okay? You look ill.” She studied my face.

I could not contain myself any longer. “Hugo left me!” I burst into tears.

“Oh dear!” Tracey exclaimed. She got up from her chair, walked around her desk and hugged me. “You poor thing!”

“He - he - was my rock!” I sobbed.

“Oh I know! I can’t imagine what I’d do if Kevin left me - well, he’d probably end up getting all the money and custody of the children, considering I’m never home - oh this is terrible! You have to work this out, Chloé. Don’t you think you’ll work it out?”

“No - he already has a new girlfriend - she is twenty-six!” I pulled away and blew my nose. “Sorry about this, Tracey. I didn’t intend to cry.”

“Oh no - don’t worry. Really? A younger woman? Seriously, that’s ridiculous - I mean, you look twenty-six!”

I managed a crooked smile. “That’s not the point. She is willing and young enough to give birth to his children.”

“Still - he’ll come around, I’m sure! I know Kevin would not really want to give up the lifestyle. They all moan and bicker about us working hard but in the end they realise they can’t do much better, especially if we slacken the reins and turn a blind eye. Maybe it’s just a phase and he needs attention from a bimbo in order to feel less emasculated. Still, it must be so hard for you! In the circumstances I would understand if you don’t want to do the Holman deal. Look, Chloé, you tell me how much work do you want - do you want lots to take your mind off things or do you want me to leave you alone?”

“To be honest, I find it hard to concentrate on anything,” I replied with relief. “I’m not sure how I can-” I broke off. The tears were choking me up.

“Then why don’t you go home - or go and see a doctor?”

“Yes, I think you are right. My doctor is nearby; she may be able to see me at short notice.” I looked at her gratefully. “Thank you so much, Tracey.”

“That’s OK, Chloé. Just get better soon. No man is worth it.” She lead me out of her office and closed the door behind me.

Wow. I had completely misjudged Tracey. Deep down she was a warm-hearted, empathetic woman. First she wanted to impose a loss-making deal on me then she hugged me and sent me home. Wow. I went back to my office, grabbed my bag, briefly told Jerome where I’d be and left the building. On my way to the doctor I called Alexia to put her in the loop. As soon as I mentioned Hugo’s name she began cursing Hugo in what must have been very rude Greek. When I told her about Tracey’s reaction she was not surprised.

“Chloé, I always say that, in situations like this, women stick together. They have to! It’s the unwritten sister code. Nonetheless I think that’s really great of your boss.”

“Yes I know! Oh Alexia, what am I going to do? I could just cry the whole time.”

“I understand, believe me. But there is no point. Like most men, Hugo seems to be able, just like that, to press a switch and immediately start a new life with a different woman. Every time this happens I am amazed how men can do that. They don’t reflect on things, let alone on themselves.”

“What do you mean start a new life with her? Have you seen her?”

“No, I refuse to. But apparently he took her to Will’s last night. Alex was there. As you know, my husband does not talk much but my impression was Hugo is committed to her and is prepared to introduce her to everybody.”

“What? Already? But they can’t have known each other for more than a couple of days!”

“Actually, Alex said that Hugo mentioned that they met at that wine festival.”

“Oh my god. That was the day after we had agreed to go on a two week break.”

“See? I told you. They can switch just like that. By the way, Sabrina was there as well. Maybe she can tell you more.”

Will was Alex’s work partner and Sabrina his fiancée. The invitation to their upcoming wedding, addressed to Hugo and me together, was at home. Marie and Noëlle were to be flower girls at the wedding and I had secretly planned with Will’s brother Robert to sing Will and Sabrina a song at the reception with Robert accompanying me on the piano.

“Good idea. I’m meeting up with Sabrina anyway this week, when she has her last fitting, to pick up the girls’ dresses.”

“Just do me a favour please. Focus on yourself from now on. We are going out Saturday night! There - don’t argue! Until then cry all your tears, get drunk, whatever, but let it all out!”

I laughed reluctantly. “Yes, Ma’am!”

* * *

I followed Alexia’s advice. I was actually able, after a few days of suffering, to pull myself together and follow my usual zest for action. I was even able to enter a bridal shop without having a nervous breakdown. Of course it didn’t hurt that the shop owner had offered Sabrina and me a glass of champagne.

“Oh Sabrina, you look divine!” I exclaimed when she stepped out of the changing room.

She beamed. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course! You look like a princess - not tacky at all! All those little sparkling rhinestones make you look like you’re out of a fairy tale!”

“These are all tiny Swarovski stones!” Sabrina explained. She turned with her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. “It’s so gorgeous, from behind too - I love this train,” she added.

“When I look at you like this, it puts me in the mood to get married again!” Hello? Did I just say that?

“You know, sweetie - I’m sure things are going to work out with Hugo,” Sabrina encouraged me. “That girl is not for him - she’s got nothing on you!”

At that moment I had had an epiphany. Or was it that I had made a decision?

“Sabrina, I’m going to get married next year. If it’s not to Hugo, then it’ll be to somebody else. I can’t tell you why but I just know it,” I declared. Lars still hadn’t stopped calling and was begging to see me again.

“Then that’s the way it will be! I’m so excited!” Sabrina clapped enthusiastically.

I raised my glass at her and took a large sip. “Indeed so be it! First - it’s your turn! Oh, it will be such a lovely wedding!”

She chuckled. “I can’t wait! Do you already know what you’re going to wear on our day?”

“I ordered a plum-coloured Vera Wang bustier dress at Net-A-Porter and had it delivered to the office. I immediately tried it on in the ladies’, totally gaga!” I laughed. Then a thought crossed my mind. “Tell me - did Hugo RSVP?”

She looked at me anxiously. “Yes, he is coming, Chloé, but we told him he can’t bring her. Is that OK? We could hardly disinvite him.”

I swallowed. “It’s your wedding, of course he must come. It would be considerate if he came without her, also because Noëlle and Marie will be there, and they would be shocked and disturbed - but that’s his decision.”

“Do you want to bring anybody? We are quite full already but if you want to, and if it makes you feel better about seeing Hugo-”

“No, no. Thank you so much for the offer, but no. That would be so obvious and pathetic - and beneath me. No, it’ll be just me and the girls.”

“Those two will look so cute in their long white flower girl dresses! By the way, where are they? How are they keeping up?”

“At home with Jana. School is out for the summer. Noëlle is quite ok I think - or at least she doesn’t show if she’s upset. However, Marie has these moments when she cries for no reason and she’s having trouble sleeping. She feels that I am not well and it unsettles her. I try not to let it show too much in front of the girls but it’s an undeniable fact. Hugo is gone and we miss him.”

I looked through the shop window to the street outside and, for a moment, I wished Hugo would come into the shop, get down on one knee, ask me first for forgiveness and then for my hand in marriage - just like in some Hollywood extravaganza. Instead, my blackberry drew my attention by vividly blinking its red light.

“I think I have to get back to the office. Tracey is still going easy on me with new things but my ongoing deals have not yet closed.”

Sabrina contemplated herself in the mirror. “Urgh, always that stupid office. Once we’re married I will stop working. Will and I want to concentrate fully on having children,” she declared.

“Really? Don’t you want to keep some independence? Do you always want to have to ask him, when you want to buy something nice for yourself? I admit, the job is sometimes annoying but it’s also fulfilling to enjoy the success.”

She pouted. “Nah. He can work and earn money for both of us. I’ll do everything else for him. One miscarriage was enough. I don’t want to risk that again.”

I hugged her carefully so as not to put creases in the dress. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sure you will both be even happier when you have a child together. I just know that you will be a wonderful mother.”

She still had plenty of time - she was only thirty, ten years younger than me. I thought of Hugo’s new girlfriend. Twenty-six! And he was already almost thirty-seven, so ten years older than her. Such a large age gap was of course no problem from a man’s perspective. If I showed up with a new boyfriend who was only thirty, everybody would bitch about me behind my back. Alexia was also ten years older than Alex, and even though she looked much younger than her age - sometimes even younger than him - it did seem to make a difference in the way they are viewed by others.

“In principle it makes no difference at all,” Isabella objected when I talked to her about it later on. “I’m six years older than my husband. So what? Now stop reducing yourself to the role of the old abandoned woman. In particular, stop behaving like a victim. You’re not a victim. You’re no longer the little girl who was abandoned by her father. You decide who is allowed to stay in your life and who isn’t.”

“Yes. I know. I’m just afraid of running into Hugo and her at the wedding - or anywhere else for that matter.”

“Forget about him! He doesn’t get you at all. He never did. As for her - she is probably afraid of you. You grasp things so quickly that others find it hard to follow - which applies also, and in particular, to Hugo. You’re not just quick - you are supersonic! You are Mrs. Supersonic! Now call him and tell him you are absolutely fine with him coming to that wedding, with or without that bimbo. Turn the tables on him.”

No sooner said than done. Thankfully, I only reached his mailbox. I left the message I had prepared, my voice trembling only slightly. It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Hugo had indeed never understood who I was. I had to guide him through his life while dealing with my issues by myself. I could rarely lean on his shoulder or even be weak - he wouldn’t be able to cope. The more I tried to fulfil his expectations of physical perfection, the less depth our relationship had and the more distant I grew. That was another reason for my escapades. When you’re not happy and loved, you cheat. You look for something that your partner cannot give you. It becomes a vicious circle. Both of you change and then, one day, one of you will get out. The other one is left out in the cold but still has the possibility to rise like a phoenix from the ashes. Which was my plan exactly.

* * *

Contrary to all forecasts, the sun shone brightly on Sabrina and Will’s wedding day. Nonetheless I was shivering out of nervousness. I was waiting with the children in front of the church for Sabrina to arrive.

“Don’t forget, girls - walk slowly in front of Sabrina and stay next to each other, OK?” I reminded them with chattering teeth and fumbled with Marie’s floral headdress.

She disengaged from my grip. “Stop, Mummy, it’s ok - Hugo!” she suddenly exclaimed and, laughing, ran towards Hugo who was approaching us, holding his arms wide open. He caught Marie in his arms, then Noëlle who had followed her. I stood still. My heart was beating fast. Calm down, Chloé. Keep cool, I told myself. I forced a nonchalant smile. “Hi.”

He laughed sheepishly. “All three of you look so beautiful!” he declared and twirled Marie around.

She firmly put her little arms around him. “Hugo, we missed you so much!” she exclaimed.

“I missed you too!” He still didn’t look at me but, instead, planted a big kiss on her cheek, letting her down carefully.

Noëlle took his hand. “Are you going to come home now?”

Hugo bent his knees until his head was at the same level as hers and took her other hand. “Not now, sweetheart. I have to live in my house for now. But I will come and see you soon, OK?”

“OK.” Noëlle replied slowly, visibly disappointed.

Suddenly Hugo’s mobile rang. He got up from his knees and reached for his pocket.

“Angel!” he shouted enthusiastically into the phone. Then he saw my face. That had always been his pet name for me. Now he had given her the same name. I snorted, slightly shaking my head. He blushed and walked away towards the church entrance, still talking on his mobile.

“Come on, girls.” I took Marie and Noëlle by the hand and led them to the curb. “I think Sabrina’s car is arriving.” Indeed, a dark limousine stopped in front of us. She let the rear window down and waved to us.

“Chloé! I’m so nervous - I feel sick,” she moaned.

“In that case I have the perfect remedy for you,” I replied and took a small hip flask from my Prada clutch. I unscrewed it and offered it to her. “Here, take a sip of vodka - I brought this just for you, in case your nerves were going to falter.”

She looked at me with horror. “Oh, no, no! I promised Will not to drink anything before the ceremony!”

“Rubbish! He won’t be able to smell the Vodka on your breath! It’s better than vomiting, out of nerves, in the middle of the church!”

“Oh, alright.” She took a sip. “Hmm, you are right. That’s good!” She grinned. “I think I’m ready now.” She turned to her father who had followed our short conversation with amusement. “Let’s go, Dad! Are you ready, girls?” she asked Marie and Noëlle who nodded enthusiastically.

“Fine. Then I will go ahead and let Will know that the bridal party is ready,” I said.

I looked at the open church doors. We could hear that the organ music had started. Hugo must have gone inside. Good. I had no appetite for another confrontation. I tightened my shoulders, pulled my shawl around them and walked towards the entrance all alone.

Next year, I thought. Next year.

* * *

I took the microphone and cleared my throat. “Good evening. May I have your attention, please?”

Everybody fell silent. The last course of the wedding dinner had just finished; the speeches had been given. Will and Sabrina watched me curiously. At the adjacent table, Hugo seemed to stare at me with his mouth open. I tried to tune him out and addressed the bridal couple.

“Dear Sabrina, dear Will. Robert and I want to give you a special present today - a song that reminds us of your love. This is your song. Please bear with us as we did not have much time to rehearse.”

I walked onto the stage, where the band had set up, and joined Robert who was already seated at the grand piano. I turned around and nodded at him. He started playing the introductory chords. I inhaled deeply and began to sing the beautiful words from Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You.

My song was for Sabrina and Will but I also sang to Hugo. It was my goodbye song for him. While I sang I felt that it wasn’t so difficult to say goodbye. I thought of his silly speech about Ferraris and Volkswagen buses. I realised, if you want to drive an exclusive and fast car then you must be able to afford it, look after it and drive it properly. Sadly, Dr. Hugo Walther was just not up to it. But I knew who was.

As soon as I had finished the song, and had hugged a very moved Sabrina and Will, I checked on the girls and went outside. I waived to Alexia and Alex smoking on the terrace and found a quiet corner. My clutch was big enough so that I had brought both phones. I took my blackberry that held Lars’ contact details and dialled his mobile.

He picked it up straightaway. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Hi. How are you? Are you busy?”

“Actually, I just came back from dinner with my kids. I took them back to my ex-wife in my ex-house and now I’m alone and about to open a bottle of very expensive wine. Why? Are you lonely and finally willing to see me?”

“Hm, maybe. I’m at this wedding.”

“Sounds dreadful. I don’t know why women are so crazy about weddings. Weddings are so boring - bad speeches, bad food, bad wine and bad company. At my house, there’s good wine and even better company.”

“Well - I’m not crazy about weddings either. Your idea is tempting, but I’ve got the girls with me and no babysitter.”

“Then I’ll come to your house. In one hour?”

The hell why not? I had had enough of feeling miserable. Lars was sexy, successful and a real man. “Make it an hour and a half. I’ll text you the address. When you’re there, don’t ring the doorbell - text me instead.”

“As your highness wishes. See you later, gorgeous.” We hung up.

I walked back inside and made my way to the children’s table, where the girls were still playing Nintendo with Alexia’s son. “Darlings, it’s getting late. Come with me to say goodbye to Will and Sabrina. Simon, your parents are on the terrace.”

“OK, Mumma,” Noëlle said. She shot a stern glance at her sister. “I think Marie is tired anyway.”

Marie stifled a yawn. “I’m not tired!”

“I think maybe you’re both tired.”

“Mummy, your song was so beautiful!” Marie said. She got off her chair and reached for my hand. “Will you sing it to me again when I’m in bed?”

“Of course, my love. I’d be happy to.”

We made our excuses to Will and Sabrina and took a taxi home. After I had gotten Marie ready for bed and tucked both of them in with a kiss, I duly gave a subdued rendition of my earlier performance while stroking Marie’s curls.

“Thank you, Mummy. Good night,” she murmured, nearly asleep. I tiptoed out of their bedroom and left the door ajar. I checked my watch. I had perhaps ten minutes if Lars was on time. Suddenly I felt unsure whether I still wanted him there. What if this was just a booty call? I shook off that thought. He wasn’t really that kind of guy and I wasn’t really that kind of woman. This was more. This had real potential. I went to check my blackberry. He had just sent a text. Am outside. My heart beat faster. Then I heard a very quiet knock on the front door. I went to open it. He was leaning against the doorframe, a bottle of champagne dangling from his left hand.

“Wow. What a dress.” He looked me up and down.

“Oh this old thing,” I giggled. “Come in.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He grabbed me by the waist with his right hand, pulled me towards him and kissed me.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time,” he said later when I was lying in his arms.

“And was it worth the wait?”

“Every minute, honey.”

“I think so, too,” I said softly. “It makes me wonder what I have been doing all this time.” I looked at him and gently touched his cheeks.

He cleared his throat. “Uhm, right. So - some more champagne?” He freed himself of my embrace and poured our glasses. “There you go, love.” He checked his blackberry. “Hm, I better go home soon and get some sleep.”

“What, now?”

“I do have to catch a flight to Warsaw in the morning.”

“Uh - Warsaw? You are going to see Magda? I thought you had broken up?”

“It’s complicated. What does it matter? You and I always had the hots for each other and now we’ve finally done it.”

What does it matter? Oh my god. I felt so foolish. My little romantic head movie just burst into flames. I quickly grabbed my dressing gown and wrapped it tightly around me.

“Nothing. Just wondering. I need to get some sleep too.”

“Hey, honey - are you alright? Are we cool?”

“Of course we are, Lars. It’s all cool.”

What was I thinking? That a rich rainmaker partner with plenty of ex- and current lovers would make a better boyfriend and stepdad material than Hugo? That I would be more than another of his conquests with which to satisfy his ego?

I really had some serious thinking to do.