Beatriz Williams - Along the Infinite Sea - Love, friendship and heartbreak, the perfect summer read

“Well. I like the sound of this villa of yours, with the olives and the grapes.” I paused, because I had left something out, and I wanted to see if he would supply the word for me. But he said nothing, and I went on: “And then there’s that talk about Paris, and by a strange coincidence, I was just thinking this morning that an apartment in Montparnasse might be the very thing for me.”

“Montparnasse! Annabelle in Montparnasse?”

“Yes. Why not? It’s crammed with Americans and art. It’s the most interesting place in the world right now. I could live in some grubby little room above a café and teach the cello to the daughters of the bourgeoisie.”

“You realize that in Montparnasse, you will be expected to take a new lover every night, as a matter of course?”

“Ah, but I’m unexpected, remember? I think I’ll be happy with just the one.”

“I see. I suppose, so long as this lover is me, I cannot object.”

“Yes, this lover would be you.” I rolled over and propped my chin on my hands, atop his chest, between the white sides of his unbuttoned shirt. Stefan stubbed out his cigarette in the grass and cupped his hands around the backs of my bare shoulders. I felt suddenly daring and desirable, like somebody’s mistress. I said, “What do you think of my path, Herr Silverman? Would you like to travel it with me?”

He kissed me. The smoke was returning to his eyes. He kissed me again, a little harder. “This is your path. This is what you want of me.”

“Only if you want it, too.”

He studied me, kissed me, and then studied me again, as if the kiss might have made a difference. “All right, then. All right, Mademoiselle de Créouville. I will see what I can arrange. I will take care of everything for us. But come. The tide will be turning soon. I must be off.” He reached for my blouse and helped me into it.

“The tide?”

“Yes, the tide. I have left the tender at the Hôtel du Cap.”

“But where are you going?”

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