Даниэла Стил - The Affair

“Actually, I do,” she said easily.

“Do you like Costes?” It was trendy and popular, a lot of fashion people and models went there, and they had a year-round covered garden and good food. It was only about a block away from the Ritz in a small boutique hotel. The restaurant was jammed most of the time, and particularly during any of the fashion weeks. It was fun people-watching there.

“I like it a lot.” You could have anything from a salad to a major meal, and the food was more international than just French, so Americans loved it.

When they got to the hotel, there was music playing in the hallway leading to the restaurant, and the garden looked bright and cheery under a canvas canopy. The outdoor space was heated, as dozens of sexy young waitresses buzzed around in miniskirts waiting on tables. The headwaiter led them to a quiet table in the corner at Gregory’s request. Compared to most popular restaurants, it was busy but not too loud, so they could talk.

Gregory ordered a Bloody Mary, and they ordered spring rolls and salads for lunch. He smiled as he sat back and looked at her. “It’s funny, Nadia, you seem so French to me. I forget you’re American. Are you part French too?”

“My mother is half English and half Italian, which is a bit of a conflict. She is incredibly organized, and at the same time very creative. I think I inherited it from her.”

“Is she an interior designer too?” He could tell from how efficient Nadia was that she had years of experience, despite the fact that she looked very young.

“My mother is the editor-in-chief of Mode Magazine, ” she said with a hint of pride. “She’s incredibly good at what she does.” He smiled as her face lit up when she said it.

“So I’ve heard. I didn’t realize she’s British.”

“I’ve been here for all of my adult life, including college, so I guess a lot of that has rubbed off too. I have to admit, I don’t feel very American anymore. It’s kind of a disconnect for me. My husband was…is…French, and so are my daughters. I’m just very comfortable here. I always feel a little out of place now when I go back to the States.”

“Do you go back often?” He was interested in her, who she was, what she thought, and what made her so talented, because it was clear to him that she was.

“A few times a year,” she answered. “I have three sisters there. Two in New York and one in L.A. We’re very close, and as different as night and day, or ‘chalk and cheese’ as the British say. We don’t even look related. One of them is a fashion designer, Venetia Wade, my next oldest sister is a superior court judge, and my sister in L.A. is a TV chef and food guru.”

He was amused. “That’s quite a variety. It must have been fun at your house when you were growing up. What did your father do?”

“He was in finance, and grounded all of us. That’s a lot of female energy under one roof. He handled it very well and was very supportive of my mother’s work. We still have a great time when we get together. Two of them just came over for a week in August with their families. My oldest sister, the foodie, has dogs instead of children.” He laughed.

“Smart girl.”

“I take it you’re not crazy about kids.” She was intrigued by that. He made occasional negative comments about children and marriage.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, pensive for a moment as their food arrived. “I’ve just never wanted any.” He wasn’t a warm, cozy person, but he was obviously very smart, which she did find appealing. He was so quick in his responses and thought processes. “I grew up in a scientific household. My father was a research scientist and worked for a big pharmaceutical company in Texas. My mother was a doctor. They wanted me to be a doctor too, but I’ve always been attracted to business. I find investments fascinating. I love entrepreneurial ventures. What does your ex-husband do, or shouldn’t I ask?” It jolted her when he called Nicolas her ex-husband, but she realized she had to get used to it, since he was going to be.

“He’s a writer, a novelist.” Gregory was intrigued by that.

“That must have been interesting. Bestsellers?”

She nodded. “He’s very well known here. It’s a pretty dull story otherwise. Several of his books have been made into movies. He had an affair with the star on his last one. The usual tabloid trash. They’re having a baby in a couple of weeks.”

He winced when she said it. “Wow, I bet that hurt. You filed for divorce, I assume.”

“I’m working on it. I just started the process. It took me a few months to catch my breath.”

“I’m sorry, Nadia. That must have been nasty to live through. My last divorce was small potatoes compared to that, although finding her getting it on with my trainer wasn’t a happy moment for me either. I moved out that night. I gave her the apartment. You can see why I’m not too keen on marriage. You do get over it, but it leaves scars.” She nodded, well aware that hers were still raw, even if she was feeling better.

“People have affairs here all the time. It’s the one part of French life I’ve never adapted to. I don’t see the point of being married and cheating.”

“How are your kids doing?”

“We’re getting through it. It’s an adjustment. And they’re not too happy about the baby. It’s a boy, which will be a big deal for my husband, since he’s French.”

“It sounds like you’ve been through the wringer,” he said gently, and touched her hand. When he did, it surprised her and she looked across the table at him, and smiled.

“Thank you. It’s been hard, and the whole thing was a shock. I couldn’t have gotten through it without my sisters. They wanted him burned at the stake. I still have to deal with him. He’s my children’s father.”

“That’s another reason not to have kids. It ties you to the bad spouses forever. I’d rather cut my losses and run. All I lost in the divorce, other than money, was a dog. I miss him, but he’s happy with her. I can always get another dog. I might get one here.” He didn’t seem emotionally tied to anyone or anything.

He was so different from the men she knew, so unattached and unencumbered, and he seemed to like his life that way. She wondered if he got lonely but didn’t know him well enough to ask, and he was a client after all.

“Do you have brothers and sisters?” she asked, wanting to know more about him too.

“No, I’m an only child.”

“So is my husband, and one of my nephews. It’s very different. My nephew is very adult for his age, he’s never around kids except in school.”

“That’s how it was for me too. I liked it. I thought other kids were silly. In retrospect, I think I never really had a childhood. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. It gave me a head start as an adult. I didn’t waste a lot of time on beer bongs and frat parties. I was already an adult when I got to college.” He certainly was one now. She realized that that was what was different about him. He wasn’t playful, and there wasn’t a boyish side of him, despite his good looks. He was an adult through and through. In a way, she felt sorry for him and wondered what he did for fun. He was so disciplined and focused on his work. Every meeting had a purpose, even their lunch. It was so he could get to know her better, because she was his decorator. She served a purpose in his life. If she weren’t his designer, she was sure he would never have taken her to lunch. She was certain he was smart in business, but she wondered how intelligent he was about life. The difference between French men and American men was that the French liked to play and have fun. They loved talking to other people. When she had guests over, they stayed late into the night to talk philosophy or politics, or about life. It wasn’t just about eating at night, working by day, set on a straight path like a robot. Gregory was almost like a very handsome bionic man. There wasn’t much fantasy there. If he had spare time he probably went to the gym and worked out. He didn’t call a friend and meet for coffee. American men were different. French men were warmer and more appealing to her.