Даниэла Стил - The Affair

“He’s making me crazy. He still acts like we’re a happy family and tells me he loves me every five minutes. I don’t want to hear it, and I don’t think this is good for the girls.” Or for her either. And Nicolas seemed nervous too. It was putting pressure on both of them, and the tension was palpable. Nadia was worried that the girls were sensing it too.

“He probably does love you,” Venetia said simply. “He just wants to have both of you for now. He can’t do that forever, and sooner or later it’s going to blow up in his face. She may walk out on him before you do. By the way, Ben and I talked about it last night. We can come for a week in August if you really want us. Three jet-propelled kids does not make for a restful week,” she reminded her sister, and Nadia smiled.

“I’d love it. And so will the girls.” The cousins loved being together. Venetia and Olivia tried to get their children together as often as possible, and Nadia made sure that her daughters saw their cousins every summer. They wanted the next generation to be as close as the four sisters were.

“When do you go back to Paris?” Venetia asked her.

“Tomorrow night, at the end of the weekend. I can’t wait. I’m fed up with playing this game of happy family when our life is in shambles at our feet. We leave for L.A. on Tuesday. I’m looking forward to that.” They had planned a week after that in the Hamptons. And they were going to visit Rose at the magazine. Olivia and her family were in Maine for two months, so they wouldn’t see them. It was too long a trip for Nadia and the girls, a six-hour drive from New York.

After the call to Venetia, the girls came in and Nadia put them to bed. They were happy after the day with their parents and they loved being at the château. They had freedom there and could run around, and they were enjoying the time with their father.

After she put them to bed, Nadia went for a walk by herself and ran into Nicolas when she got back. He looked sad, as though he’d been crying.

“I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess of everything,” he said in a low, raw voice, and she could see he was, but she didn’t want to fall prey to his charms. He was the only man she had ever loved and she wanted to forget that. “I want to fix it, but it’s like finding my way out of a maze right now.” She nodded but didn’t know what to say to him.

“I think we need to be away from each other, until we figure it out, and decide what to do,” she said softly.

“I don’t want to lose you, Nadia. Whatever it takes, I want to come back.” In truth he had never left, not fully. But he was afraid he had lost her anyway. There was something dead in her eyes when she looked at him, and he couldn’t blame her, after what he had done. He felt deep remorse about it, but he wasn’t sure that would ever be enough. “Please don’t make any big decisions while you’re gone. Give me a little more time.” She didn’t answer him, and a minute later, she went upstairs to her room and closed the door. She didn’t want to make him any promises she couldn’t keep.

Nicolas spent Sunday night with them at their apartment when they got back to Paris. They were both subdued after the weekend. It had reminded him of everything he had risked and was about to lose. And Nadia didn’t want to talk to him about it again.

First thing Monday morning, he took a commuter flight to the South of France from Orly. And it was no secret to either of them where he was going. Pascale was waiting for him in Ramatuelle, and the Mode interview was the next day.

Nadia had to go to her office, and left the girls with their babysitter, and that night they showed her all the things they wanted to take with them to L.A., their favorite shorts and T-shirts, Laure’s light-up sneakers, and Sylvie’s sneakers that she said were “cool.” Nadia packed for all three of them and the girls were excited about the trip.

Nicolas called them the next morning. Nadia was too busy to talk to him, and he wished the girls a wonderful time in the States. They promised to FaceTime with him while they were away, a miracle of modern technology which allowed them to show him everything and see each other while they talked. He was disappointed not to speak to Nadia before they left. Their weekend together had made him miss her more, and he’d been irritable with Pascale when he got back, but was really only angry with himself. He had created the hell he and Nadia were living in.

Nadia and the girls left for the airport in a flurry of activity, and were right on time. Nadia sat back in the van, trying to figure out if she had forgotten to pack anything, although it was too late now. But everything was in order and she had made careful lists. She put an arm around each of her daughters with a smile.

“We’re off to our big adventure. Aunt Athena says she can’t wait to see us,” Nadia said, feeling liberated to finally be free of Nicolas lurking around them like a ghost. He had looked miserable when he left them the day before, and she didn’t want to think about it. This was her time with the girls, and she didn’t want anything to spoil it.

“I can’t wait to see Aunt Athena’s dogs,” Laure said happily. “I love Hugo…and Juanita and Chiquita, and Stanley.” She went down the list of dogs, while Sylvie sent another text to her father and told him how much she wished he was there with them. He responded immediately.

“Me too.” He had told her he had to get back to work on his new book. Sylvie thought it was too bad that he couldn’t take a vacation with them, but at least they’d had the Bastille Day weekend with him. It had been perfect, from her point of view, with her mother and father together. They were both nervous and in bad moods lately, but probably things would be better when they got back. She hoped so anyway. She had asked her father about it, and he had promised they would never get divorced. And she knew he never lied to them.

—

“You look incredible,” Nicolas said, standing in the doorway of their bedroom in the rented house in Ramatuelle. It was tropical and luxurious, with lovely gardens and an enormous pool. Pascale was wearing the white lace dress she had bought for the interview. You could see her belly clearly through it. She was wearing her bikini bottom but not the top under it. Her breasts were huge and full from the pregnancy. Her arms and legs were slim, her face was lovelier than ever, and her long white-blond curls looked like a halo that framed her face, with the rest of her hair piled on her head. She looked more womanly and less like a young girl with her pregnant belly, and she was every bit as sexy as he said, definitely not like a madonna, as she stretched her long legs out on a chaise longue under a large beach umbrella next to the pool. A waiter with a starched white jacket who had come with the house served her a tall glass of lemonade. There was a splash of gin in it, which Nicolas didn’t know.

He was wearing shorts, Hermès sandals, and a white linen shirt. They looked like some kind of ad for yacht owners, or people who had tons of money. They appeared to have it all. Nicolas was less nervous than he’d been the day before, when he’d arrived, and had settled down. Pascale had sensed his dark mood as soon as he walked in, had lured him into bed, and cheered him up considerably. He said she had magic powers over him. She bewitched him.

A few minutes after Pascale installed herself on the chaise longue, the house man escorted two people out to the pool, a small woman in jeans and a T-shirt, with dark hair in a braid down her back, holding a large notebook, and a man also wearing jeans, but with a Mexican embroidered shirt. They were the writer and photographer who had come to do the article. They were young and looked somewhat awestruck in the presence of such luxury and beauty, and two very famous people. Nicolas stood up and shook hands with them, and Pascale remained reclining, not wanting to disturb her “look.” She was wearing high-heeled white sandals, which laced up her legs to the knee, and were very sexy too. She was so appealing and sensual one almost forgot she was pregnant. She wasn’t ready to be the poster child for motherhood yet. There was a white Hermès Birkin bag on the ground next to her, which Nicolas had bought her.