Danielle Steel - The Kiss

“I want more,” he said bluntly, and suddenly she laughed.

“Well, you can't have it. You're being a spoiled brat.”

“I feel alive for the first time in years.” He looked it too. And so did she. She felt as if she had dropped ten years since the day before.

“It was the bangers at breakfast. I think they went to your head.” She had decided that the only way to handle it was to refuse to take him seriously, but she was startled by all that he had said. “Maybe we can promise to meet here once a year, for a few days like this. Maybe that will be enough.” It was all she could think of in lieu of a life with him.

“You know as well as I do that it's not enough,” he said stubbornly.

“What do you suggest? That we run away to Brazil? Bill, be serious. Think of what you're saying. Don't be crazy. And don't expect me to be crazy with you. I can't.” He knew her well enough to know that she would never jeopardize her child, that was the crux of it for her. But he wasn't sure she'd ever have left Gordon anyway. She was too proper to do anything as outrageous as that. And even though he was rotten to her, she was incredibly loyal to him.

“You can't like taking his abuse.”

“I don't. And it's not. He has simply removed himself from me.”

“He abandoned you emotionally years ago. What's left, other than the fact that he pays Teddy's bills?”

“That's enough. It's all I need.”

“That's insane. You're forty-one years old. You need more than that.”

“I don't even think about it anymore,” she said firmly, trying to resist all that she felt for him.

“Then you should.”

“I think you need a drink, and a nap. Maybe sedation.” She had never seen or heard him like this. It touched her, but there was nothing she could do about any of it. And she knew it. In another day, she had to go back, two days at most. All she could do was enjoy the time they had, and not spoil it by wanting more. But suddenly he was refusing to see that, and he seemed to want to jeopardize everything by wanting too much. “You have to be sensible now.”

“Why?” he asked her as they got out of the car.

“You know why. Because like it or not, we have no choice. You're only torturing yourself. Or me at least. You have a right to get free if you want to, and maybe you should. But my situation is more complicated than that. Teddy's life depends on what Gordon provides for him.” And she couldn't afford the uncertainty of counting on someone else, not even Bill. Gordon was the boy's father, and owed at least that much to him.

“He'd have to be a monster to withdraw that from you.” She didn't comment for a moment and then looked Bill in the eye again, and spoke clearly and firmly so he would know she meant what she said.

“I'm not going to put it to the test. I can't.”

“I understand,” he said quietly, and followed her into the restaurant. He didn't speak again until they sat down. “I'm sorry I brought it up. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that none of this makes sense. We're both living with people who make us unhappy, and when we're together, it feels so right.” Suddenly he wanted to risk it all for her.

“Maybe it feels right because we're not really together. Maybe we'd make each other as unhappy as they do. We don't know.” Everything that had been unspoken between them was now suddenly out in the open, and in some ways it was a relief. They had been hiding behind their friendship, and suddenly he was making it clear that he wanted more. But she was making it just as clear that it was impossible for her, no matter what she felt for him. There was far more at stake than that. And she wasn't going to throw Teddy's life or health away for the dream of a romance. She was far too sensible for that. No matter how much she cared about Bill, and admired him, her son came first. And he respected her for that, he always had, and always would.

“I accept what you're saying, Isabelle,” he said clearly, as they sat at a table under an umbrella, protecting them from the June sun. “I would never jeopardize Teddy's health. But I want you to know how much I care about you. I won't put you or your son at risk. In fact I'd like to help you with him if I can. But I'm not willing to pretend I don't give a damn, or that I don't want more. I want you to know that.”

“I know that, Bill,” she said softly. “You've been so good to me for so long.” For the past four years, other than her children, he was all she had.

“Not good enough. Not as good as I'd like to be.

I'm just tired of the hypocrisy of our lives. You pretend to be his wife, I pretend to give a damn when I go to black-tie events with Cindy. I'm not sure I can fake it anymore. I'm not sure I want to. I don't think the rewards are worth the price.”

“You may pay a much higher price if you don't play the game anymore.” She had questioned it all herself, and he had caught the bug and tried to incite her to riot. But Isabelle was prepared to be the reasonable one.

“Maybe one of these days I'll toss it all into a hat, and give it up. You never know,” Bill said calmly.

“You need to give it a lot of thought,” she said quietly, as he nodded, and took her hand in his. She had long, slender fingers, and beautiful, graceful hands.

“You're a remarkable woman,” he said quietly, with eyes full of emotion, “and a lot more sensible than I.”

“Maybe that's a good thing.” She lifted his hand to her lips then and kissed it. “You are my very dearest friend.” He couldn't speak for a moment, and she nodded. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he knew from everything she had said to him that morning that it wasn't the right time.

“What would you like for lunch?” he said, trying to de-escalate the emotions that had nearly gotten the best of him. He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like when she left for Paris again. But there was no point thinking of it now.

They decided on pasta and salads, and they both stuck to safe subjects like books and art. And she thought he should write a book of his own about the political scene. She had said as much to him before.

But what would have made the book interesting were the secrets he couldn't divulge.

“Maybe when I retire,” he said as they got to dessert.

They had both calmed down by then. He wasn't sure why things had gotten out of hand that morning, except that he was so happy when he was with her, and it was hard to accept that there could never be more. He knew that in Teddy's lifetime she would never even think of leaving Gordon, and he hoped for her sake that her son would live for a long time.

After some earnest consultation, they went to the British Museum that afternoon, and didn't come out again until four. They went for a walk down New Bond Street, looking into the shop windows at paintings and jewelry, and walking along slowly arm in arm. He couldn't help thinking to himself again how comfortable he was, being with her. It was nearly six o'clock when they got back to Claridge's and decided to have tea. They had cucumber sandwiches, and others with tomato and watercress and egg salad and little biscuits that reminded her of her grandfather when she was a child. High tea was something she had always loved. It seemed so civilized to her, and he teased her about it. Bill said he'd much rather eat eclairs and petits-fours at Angelina's in Paris, or have ice cream at Berthillon. And she said she loved that too.

“When are you coming to Paris again?” she asked casually as they ate their sandwiches and she poured him another cup of tea.

“How about next week? I'm going to have terrible withdrawal after this week.”

“So am I,” she confessed. For all her brave statements about what they couldn't have, she felt the same pull that he did. When they were together, or even talking on the phone, it all seemed so right, to both of them. But it was forbidden fruit. Just being with him was a great gift.