The Summer of Everything, page 21
‘It makes the world of difference,’ he said with urgency in his tone.
‘Where’s Olivia?’
He chewed his lip. ‘She’s back home.’
‘You came here on your own?’
‘We’ve been having some… issues.’
Finally, the pieces fell into place, and it dawned on her why Ben had travelled thousands of miles at the drop of a hat to see her. Things were rocky with Olivia. She tried not to scoff so obviously.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I get it. You don’t want to hear it. I was awful to you, I cheated on you and now here I am, begging for your forgiveness. I’ve got a hide, right?’
‘Yes, you do,’ she said brusquely.
‘The thing is Belle, for the past year I’ve missed you. Nothing’s been the same since we ended things.’
‘Since you ended things.’
‘Yes, okay, since I ended things.’
She studied him closely, a man who had once been so thoroughly entwined in her life that it had been impossible to tell where he’d ended, and she’d begun. She knew everything about him—the way his cow lick couldn’t be tamed, and that laugh lines crept around his eyes when he smiled. She was attuned to every mood and quirk, to the way he made love and the songs he sang in the shower. There wasn’t another soul on the planet she knew better than Ben. And he knew her. Unconsciously, her heart stirred with the memory of him, and she had to remind herself that he’d hurt her in ways she’d never thought possible.
He watched her carefully now, his eyes shadowed, his shoulders slumped, not the formidable Ben she was used to seeing. Just as she was contemplating what on earth to do with him, an access card clicked in the door and Riley stepped into the room. She stopped as she processed the scene, her eyes widening and her mouth gaping open.
Belle snatched her hand away from Ben’s and tucked it guiltily into her lap. But Riley’s eyes followed, and Belle knew the intimate moment had not gone unnoticed.
‘Well,’ Riley said, letting the door swing closed behind her, ‘I was not expecting to find this.’
Belle jumped to her feet. ‘Ben’s here, in Paris, from Sydney.’ She was stating the bleeding obvious, but she couldn’t hide the way her cheeks flamed, as though she’d orchestrated it.
‘I can see that,’ Riley said, crossing her arms.
‘Hi, Riley,’ Ben said, wiping his palms down the front of his jeans and rising to his feet.
Riley harrumphed, ignoring him. She turned to Belle. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Belle’s elbow and steered her into the bedroom. Once they were behind the closed door, Riley wheeled on her. ‘What is he doing here?’
‘I didn’t invite him if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Belle said. ‘It’s as much as a surprise to me as it is to you.’
‘He just showed up here?’
‘Yes. While you were out. I was asleep on the sofa.’ Belle put a hand to her chest and took her first proper breath since he’d arrived.
‘What does he want?’ Riley asked.
Belle frowned. ‘What do you think?’
Riley’s eyes narrowed. ‘No. After what he did to you? He has some nerve.’
‘I know.’
‘What about Olivia?’
‘They separated, apparently. I don’t have all the details. Right now, I just need to figure out what I’m going to do with him.’
‘What do you mean? He can go back where he came from.’
‘He turned up with his luggage, straight from the plane. I’m guessing he doesn’t have a place to stay yet.’
‘Well, he’s not staying here,’ Riley said sharply. ‘He’s a grown man. He can find his own way. The days of you being responsible for him are over.’
‘I’m aware of that.’ Belle’s tone rose defensively. ‘I’m not suggesting he stay here. But I think I need to hear him out, then he can go back to Sydney.’
‘Hear him out?’ Riley let out an incredulous breath and shook her head. ‘What’s there to hear? The guy cheated on you.’
‘Again, I’m aware of that,’ Belle said, trying to force patience into her voice. ‘But we weren’t just a fling. We had twenty years together. I can’t turn him away.’
Riley’s cheeks puffed. ‘Well, then you have a problem on your hands. I just ran into Andre and Avery downstairs, checking in.’
‘Already?’ Belle glanced at her watch. ‘They’re not due for another two hours.’
‘They were able to get an earlier flight. He wanted to surprise you.’ Riley stared at her. ‘What are you going to do?’
Belle wasn’t sure. She searched deep within herself for the kind of spite and retribution that would see her kicking Ben out with a slap to the face, but no matter what he had done or how hard she searched, she couldn’t find the resentment she needed. Perhaps she was too lenient, too kind. But hate always weighed heavier than forgiveness. She owed herself an hour with him, to listen, to say goodbye and to close that chapter of her life forever.
‘I’m going to deal with Ben first. I’ll need an hour at the most,’ she said. ‘Then I’ll be ready for dinner and the theatre.’
‘God,’ Riley muttered. ‘You’re playing with fire, kid.’
‘I just need an hour,’ she pleaded. ‘But I can’t keep Ben here. We’re going to have to go out. I don’t want Andre coming up and the two of them running into each other.’ It would be her worst nightmare for Andre to think Ben was back in her life.
‘One hour,’ Riley said sternly. ‘I’ll buy you some time. I’ll tell them you went out to grab something. After that, you’re on your own.’
Belle threw her arms around her friend. ‘Thank you!’
‘I can’t even begin to understand why you’re giving him the time of day,’ Riley said, ‘but you’re welcome.’
Back in the living room, Ben met Belle’s eyes with apology as Riley strode past them and out the door. As soon as it swung closed and they were alone again, he asked, ‘Is everything all right? I didn’t cause an argument, did I?’
‘No, it’s fine. But I don’t have long to spend with you,’ she said firmly. ‘An hour at most. I have plans for this evening.’
‘Oh.’ He looked disappointed. ‘Sure.’
‘I thought we could go for a walk, talk a little, then you can find a place to stay.’
‘Right.’ He didn’t seem enthused with the suggestion, probably hoping for more. ‘Shall I take my bag?’
‘Yes.’ She glanced at him as he reached for the handle of his suitcase. He looked forlorn and suddenly very small in her hotel room. Her heart ached with remembered love for him, which was both complex and confusing, but she didn’t have time to dwell. Andre was downstairs and the clock was against her.
Twenty-Eight
It seemed that all of Paris had emerged from the grips of winter. The air was balmy, streets full of lilting music, and the air rippled gently through the trees. Lovers smoked cigarettes and kissed in cobbled lanes, and the smell of bread and coffee lingered on the breeze.
Belle strolled alongside Ben, the mood mellow after the tension in the hotel room. There was small talk of his flight from Sydney and the changing season back home, and when they didn’t talk, it was filled with companionable silence, borne of their years spent together.
They wandered down Avenue George V, and Belle pointed out the Papilles Café, a place she’d passed frequently in the last two days and had been wanting to try. It was bustling with an early dinner service already. Diners were sitting outside in the alfresco, surrounded by a wall of hedges, tables draped in white tablecloths beneath strings of lights. The smell of food emanated from inside and Ben sniffed the air eagerly.
‘Just one drink,’ Belle reminded him. ‘I have to get back.’
He held up his hands in concession. ‘Okay. One drink.’
A waiter arrived and seated them outside in the alfresco, resting Ben’s suitcase against the hedge wall. Belle ordered a coffee and Ben a scotch. When their drinks had arrived on the table, there was a shift in conversational pace as Ben looked at her apologetically.
‘I really am sorry, you know,’ he said, swirling the ice in his drink as cubes clinked together. ‘For turning up like that. I didn’t mean for you and Riley to argue.’
‘We didn’t argue. You just caught us by surprise.’
‘Maybe I should have called first.’
Belle sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. ‘What are you really doing here? And what’s going on with Olivia?’
He sighed, his shoulders seeming to sag under the weight of the question. Belle noticed him properly for the first time beneath the strings of café lights. Flecks of grey sprinkled his temples that hadn’t existed a year ago and his eyes were more lined than she remembered, shadows that spoke of exhaustion and stress.
‘Olivia and I are over,’ he said soberly.
‘Oh.’ She winced, feeling neither hope nor joy at the news. ‘I’m sorry. I’d heard you were engaged.’
‘Yeah, well.’ He raised his eyebrows, then stared into his drink. ‘Things went downhill after you left, and she moved in.’
‘In what way?’
‘She was intent on changing everything. She wanted to paint over the walls and rip up the carpet. She wanted to decimate your kitchen.’
‘It’s not my kitchen.’
‘You know what I mean,’ he said. ‘She became obsessed with ridding the house of the memory of you. It was childish and insecure of her, but it was my fault. I made her feel that way. Without realising it, I was comparing every little thing she did to you.’ He sighed with regret. ‘The truth is, I missed you. And Olivia was sick of living in your shadow. I asked her to marry me, but in the end, we both knew that wasn’t going to fix it.’
Ben drained his scotch and quickly signalled the waiter for another. ‘Nothing has made sense since you left. And Olivia isn’t you; she never could be. I was a fool to think I could love anyone else.’
Fool or not, he’d made his choice and he’d broken her heart in the process. ‘Where’s Olivia now?’
‘She’s moving out of the terrace. By the time we get back there, she’ll be gone.’
By the time we get back there? There was an undercurrent of assumption in his words, as though they’d be returning to the terrace together.
‘Belle, I didn’t come here expecting instant forgiveness or for things to go straight back to the way they were,’ he said as a waiter set down a fresh glass of scotch. ‘I just wanted to see you, to explain and say sorry for being an idiot. And to see what you thought about it all. I mean, us. What you thought about us.’
‘You didn’t have to come all the way to Paris,’ she said. ‘I would have been home in two days. You could have spoken to me then.’
He shrugged, and his face softened into a boyish grin. ‘I was kind of hoping that, after tonight, you’d want to spend a week here with me before we went back.’
Belle looked across the table at the man she’d once loved. A man whom she’d laid next to countless times, felt his skin on hers, his breath in her ear, his lips on her body. A man she’d shared her dreams and her laughter with, had wanted children with; a man she’d once loved so desperately that she’d thought it would consume her.
But this man had hurt her terribly, and after all the tears and heartache she’d come out on the other side happier, stronger, with a definite sense of who she was. Now he was asking her to go back. Part of her wanted to say yes, to return to a remembered love that was easy and familiar, and yet part of her realised that was all it was—easy and familiar.
She shook her head empathically. ‘I’m sorry if you came here expecting more, but I can’t stay here with you.’
He swallowed audibly, then stared down at his scotch. ‘You won’t even consider it?’
‘You hurt me, Ben,’ she said, her voice rising more than she’d intended it to. ‘You broke me. And now you’re here telling me you’re sorry, that it was all a mistake.’
‘I know how it sounds.’
‘How it sounds? How it feels!’ She closed her eyes, anger bubbling under the surface. She would love Ben until the day she died. They had spent years together and those years couldn’t be so easily erased, but she wasn’t in love with him. Her heart didn’t ache for him as it ached for another.
‘Who’s Andre?’ he asked.
Her eyes flew open, startled. ‘What did you say?’
‘Andre. Who is he?’
She faltered, wrongfooted by the question.
‘It’s okay,’ Ben said. ‘You don’t have to tell me. It’s just that I heard you and Riley talking about him. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Riley was talking pretty loudly.’
‘Andre is someone I met in Rome,’ she answered truthfully. ‘Someone I grew close to. We want to be together but it’s complicated.’ She didn’t want to regale Ben with details of her relationship with Andre, nor did she have the time. She was conscious that Andre would be wondering where she was, and she was desperate to get back to the hotel and see him.
She fetched her phone out of her bag to check the time and was dismayed to see that an hour had flown by. Riley had sent two texts asking where she was, and that they were heading out for dinner; to meet them as soon as she was done. The night was fast becoming a disaster, as Ben knocked back his second scotch and grinned lopsidedly at her. Lack of food, jetlag and two drinks in quick succession had left him drunk.
‘I really have to go,’ Belle said, pushing her half-finished coffee aside. ‘And we need to find you a place to stay.’ Before he became too intoxicated.
He reached across the table and wrapped his fingers around hers. ‘Are you sure I can’t change your mind about us? There’s too much history to throw away, Belle. We’ve been glued to each other since we were sixteen. You’re my first love, my only love.’
She shook her head sadly at him. ‘I’m sure.’
He sighed audibly. ‘Well, just so you know when we get back home, I’m going to keep trying.’ He winked. ‘The terrace is there for you to move back into whenever you’re ready. Just say the word.’
‘I’m moving back in with my parents.’
‘Ouch.’ He removed his hand from hers and clutched his heart. ‘If you’re choosing your parents over the terrace, we must be over.’
It was impossible to stifle a chuckle. ‘I’m sorry.’ She gathered up her purse and phone and signalled for the bill. ‘Come on, we have to go.’
While she waited for the bill to arrive, she typed a reply to Riley. I’m going to help Ben find a hotel, then I’ll be on my way. She sent it, then compiled a text to Andre. I got held up. I miss you. I’ll be there soon!
But before she could hit send on his, three jolting bangs from down the avenue split the air. They echoed against the buildings, causing birds to scatter from trees and the diners in the Papilles alfresco to cease talking and glance around.
Belle straightened with alarm; her finger frozen above the send button on her phone. ‘Goodness, what was that?’
Ben was playing with the ice in his glass, and he set it down on the table, his brow furrowing. ‘I have no idea, but it was loud.’ He rose slightly to peer over the hedge wall. Several more bangs cracked the night, followed by shouting. Belle turned in her chair to look over the hedge too. People were hurrying along the street, past the Papilles, their faces tight, eyes round with fear.
Ben was on his feet now. ‘Something’s happening down there.’
‘An arrest?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Belle glanced around her. The other patrons in the café looked confused too, talking amongst themselves, dinner paused, the air static.
A shrill scream reverberated down the avenue, and a woman yelled, ‘Pistolet. Pistolet!’
‘Something’s not right,’ Ben said. He flicked his head towards the door. ‘We should go.’
His face held grave worry, and Belle quickly climbed to her feet, dropping her phone into her bag, her eyes scanning the alfresco. They were boxed in by the hedges. Whatever was happening, whatever those frightened souls were running from, Ben, Belle, and everyone else in the alfresco were trapped. Their only options were to climb over the hedge wall, which was four feet at least, onto the street, or exit back through the main part of the café.
‘Should we take your suitcase?’ she asked.
Ben glanced at his luggage still propped against the wall. ‘Yeah.’
More pops cracked through the air like a whip and there was no denying that terrifying sound. It was gunfire and it was moving closer, up the avenue towards them.
‘Forget it,’ he murmured and snatched up her hand instead, dragging her towards the alfresco door. Frantic diners, noticing Ben’s haste to leave, climbed to their feet, gathered up their belongings and clambered around the entranceway too, until it became a bottleneck. Belle’s heart pounded wildly as she squeezed Ben’s hand and he squeezed it back.
‘Try not to panic. We’re okay.’ His voice shook as he held her close, and they were pushed and shoved by other diners trying to force their way through.
A series of gunshots rang out, so loud that they amplified throughout the Papilles Café, and Belle felt her insides liquify. A man in a heavy dark coat with a thick beard appeared at the front door of the café, his gun aimed, his finger on the trigger, shooting at everyone inside.
Belle froze, her blood pulsing in her ears as she watched the scene unfold in the main dining room of the café. The people trying to squeeze through the alfresco door turned and ran, terrified, back into the outdoor area, tripping over tables and chairs. Ben grabbed Belle and dragged her as she forced her legs to work, but they were like concrete, heavy, and unwilling. He led her to the hedge wall, positioned a chair, and told her to climb over, onto the street, but as she climbed up, a second gunman appeared on the other side, his weapon raised over the hedge, peppering bullets into the alfresco.
She tumbled off the chair, hitting the concrete with a thud. Screams pierced the warm air, bullets shattering crockery and glasses. Ben hauled her up and away from the wall, his hand folded tightly around hers, never letting her go, whispering to her, ‘I’ve got you, Belle. We’re okay, we’re okay,’ until a shot rang out in her ears. She ducked her head and Ben was no longer whispering, his hand no longer in hers.
