Даниэла Стил - The Affair

The only serious candidate who had crossed her path was Greg, and she wasn’t in love with him. She knew she never could be the way she had been with Nicolas, in the beginning. But maybe a love like that only happened once in a lifetime. That was a possibility she accepted too. Maybe the people you loved after that were more like friends or companions, people to travel through life with, on parallel tracks, always with a little distance, but not interwoven or entwined. She and Nicolas had been part of a single fabric, their threads forming a single design. He had torn what they had in half, and shredded their marriage, and there were only tatters left.

She wondered if she could ever truly love Greg. He was a good person, a smart man. He wasn’t interested in becoming involved with her children, which might be a good thing. He wouldn’t interfere, and Nicolas was their father and was staying closely engaged with them. Greg was a possible companion for her, an intelligent, caring partner she could share a life with. He was civilized and not passionate. She wondered if that was what she needed now. But it felt more like a business alliance than a love relationship to her. And eventually, he’d go back to the States, New York or Dallas or somewhere, and she didn’t want to live there. It would be a big change for her girls. She didn’t want to take them away from Nicolas now. They needed to see him, and to have him close by. And she couldn’t imagine living in the States herself, and leaving France.

She wondered too what Nicolas was going to do. It didn’t seem as though his relationship with Pascale was continuing or prospering, even with the baby. She wasn’t a deep person and was content to have someone else carry her responsibilities, like Nicolas. The baby was an add-on, an accessory, to pick up and put down at will. And she seemed to feel that way about Nicolas too. Sylvie had told her that she thought it was already over. But if not Pascale, there would be another woman in his life eventually. He said he still loved Nadia, whenever he had the chance to tell her, but what did that mean and how long would that last? How soon would he cheat on her again? Twice in eleven years was twice too often. He was a passionate man. He loved women, and he would fall in love again. He didn’t keep his emotional life on a low simmer in full control at all times, like Greg, never letting it heat up too much. It was less dangerous that way, which was why Greg did it, having been burned himself.

Part of Nicolas’s appeal was how he threw his heart into everything, with total abandon, giving his whole soul to whatever he was doing, or whomever he was loving. She had benefited from that for sixteen years of their loving each other, and Pascale had only been around for a few months. Maybe the next time would be forever. Or as close to it as he could get. Maybe he was a man who needed different women for different stages of his life, different decades. She couldn’t really expect him to be the same man at fifty or sixty that he had been in his thirties. Or the same man now at forty-two that he had been when they were students and he was madly in love with her, and they stayed in bed for hours instead of going to class. But oddly, she could see him doing that into the future. She wondered if he was going to remain a boy for the rest of his life. Greg was decidedly and indisputably an adult, to the very core of his being. There was no whimsy in him, but that innocent, magical side of Nicolas is what had led him astray and into Pascale’s arms.

She thought about it until they landed, got off the plane, and headed to baggage claim. She took an Uber into the city, and texted Nicolas that she had arrived. He answered that the girls were excited and couldn’t wait to see her in the morning. He had had a wonderful time with them, but they were ready to return to their mother. She was home to them. He was the outsider now, and he knew it. And even more so with his wife.

—

It was cold in the apartment when she got home. She turned the heat up in their room, so it would be warm in the morning. There had been a severe cold spell while they were gone. The housekeeper had bought groceries, so she’d have enough to make them breakfast. They were going back to school the day after, so they’d have a day together. She was back in her role as mother, always thinking about them first. She left her suitcase in the front hall, and walked around the apartment. She was wide awake with the time difference from New York. She was proud of herself. It had been her first Christmas vacation when she wasn’t with them the entire time, and she had gotten through it. She’d had a nice time with her mother and sisters, although it was odd being with her niece and nephews without having Sylvie and Laure with her. She went to bed late, after calling Olivia, but she didn’t respond. She called Venetia, who had no news either.

Nicolas arrived early the next morning. The girls threw themselves into her arms. She had hot chocolate ready for them, and offered Nicolas coffee. He took a cup from her with a smile. It felt good to see her, and was warm and familiar. He had missed her. He always did now.

The girls bounded around the apartment, happy to be home, and Nicolas lingered for a few minutes. She came back to the kitchen, while the girls settled in. She loved having them home, the apartment always seemed empty to her when they were with him.

“Laure is going to be an amazing skier one day,” he said with a smile. “She’s fearless. Sylvie is more cautious, and sensible. She’s more like you. Laure will probably throw herself off a lot of cliffs one day. Like me.” He hesitated, and then looked at her seriously. “I know we have our date at the notaire in a week. I just want to check in with you…is that what you really want? A divorce?” She nodded. She wondered if he was going to try to fight her on it now. She hoped not. She wanted to get this behind her, the last of their painful memories. She wanted closure. Olivia had told her it was for the best and she’d be glad she did it. Nadia wondered how she felt about that now, with Harley walking out on her. Nadia suspected she was probably asleep. It was early in New York. She hoped Olivia had heard from Harley by now.

“Yes, it’s what I want,” Nadia confirmed to Nicolas. “It’s not how I wanted our life to turn out. But it did, and we have to face it.”

“Why? Why can’t we turn it around and try to fix it?” he asked. Nadia knew she’d feel like a fool if she did, and everyone would think less of her for it, if she put up with what he’d done and went back to him now. And she didn’t want to.

“The divorce is the right thing for a lot of reasons. Most of all, because I’d never trust you again. I don’t want to live like that. Nor would you. You’d feel like a criminal on parole,” she said seriously.

“I could live with it. Maybe one day you’d forgive me,” he said hopefully.

“I doubt it.”

“Have you tried? To forgive me?” She shook her head in answer.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve put all my energy into getting over you, not forgiving you,” she said honestly.

“That’s not very nice of you,” he said, looking hurt and boyish, which was so Nicolas. It was the part of him she loved, and also that infuriated her at other times.

“What you did wasn’t ‘nice,’ ” she reminded him, and he looked embarrassed, and nodded. It had been hideous, and agonizing for her. Crushing.

“I thought you were more French than that,” he said ruefully, and she laughed. He was ridiculous at times, which she had loved about him.

“It turns out I’m not. I thought I was more French too, but not on this subject. I don’t want a husband who has a mistress, or a little quickie affair to break up the boredom of marriage from time to time, or a big affair, which breaks my heart.”