“Am I meant to take that as a compliment?”
“Yes, the fact that I’m being honest with you sets you apart from any other woman I’ve ever fancied. It’s easy to tell someone you love them to get what you want, but that’s not love. That’s desire, lust, attraction, or fascination. You only start to truly love someone when you fall out of love with them, when you love them in spite of their faults, most often because of them.”
“Well, that is honest, I suppose.” She felt her spirits sink.
“It’s the greatest compliment I can give you.”
“Then it’s true to say that I love Olivier. I’m not sure that I’m in love with him anymore. Wouldn’t it be nice to experience both at the same time? The constant comfort of love and the exciting thrill of in love. Are you in love with Anna?”
“No.”
“But you love her. So surely you don’t want to hurt her?”
“No. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Wouldn’t she be hurt if she knew you were, as you put it, falling in love with me?”
“I think she would.” He stopped walking and rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at the sky as if he’d find an answer there. Finally, he shook his head and stared at her thoughtfully. He suddenly looked old. “It’s complicated, Angelica. I wish I could explain, but if I did, I’d ruin the magic of our meeting. Right now, all I really care about is being with you. I’m aware that I’m leaving soon, and I want to feast my eyes on you for as long as I can before I go. I wish we had met twenty years ago.”
“I was a very unattractive twenty-year-old,” she replied with a laugh, relieved that they weren’t going to talk about their spouses anymore.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“You’d have tossed me a glance and moved on to someone prettier. I know your type.”
“Then if you believe in karma, what goes around comes around. You are my penance for all the irresponsible flirting I’ve done over the years.”
“I’d hate to think of myself as a penance.”
“I’ve met someone I really want but can’t have. That’s the most bittersweet penance there is.”
“I imagine a man like you has women tucked away in every corner of the globe.”
“I don’t tuck people away, and I don’t intend to. If you think this is a game to me, you’re wrong. It might have started out as an entertainment, but it’s got a hell of a lot more serious.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t plan to fall in love, Sage. Not at this stage in my life.”
They sat on a bench beneath a chestnut tree, watching the world move around them. People met and parted, and Angelica wondered how many were illicit meetings like theirs. By lunchtime neither could believe that three hours had gone by. In an effort to prolong the morning, they found a small café in Knightsbridge and ate a simple lunch of smoked salmon and salad. Angelica no longer worried about being caught. Having lunch with Jack felt like the most natural thing in the world. She didn’t glance around like a fugitive but focused on his gentle brown eyes and listened intently to everything he said. If anyone had bothered to look at them, they would have thought them lovers by the way they gazed at each other, oblivious to the rest of the city, and by the natural way he occasionally took her hand or played with her fingers, and by the way they laughed with such abandon.
In a short time they’d both return to their separate lives. It seemed incomprehensible sitting there together that they had lives beyond each other. But that time eventually came. Jack had an appointment, and Angelica had to pick up the children from school. Their conversation dwindled as they felt the heavy anticipation of their parting. He took her hand across the small table and leaned towards her. “I want to see you again before I go.”
“Is that wise?”
“That’s irrelevant. If we were always wise we’d never enjoy making mistakes.”
“I don’t know, Jack.”
“I’m only asking for one more morning. Don’t pretend you’re doing any writing at the moment.” His grin was persuasive—and she did want to be persuaded. “Aren’t you feeling inspired?”
“Yes, you’re very inspiring—for a different genre altogether.”
“Then write something different. Follow your instincts.”
“I don’t dare.”
“Why?”
“Because Olivier will know.”
“No, he won’t. He’ll think it’s your imagination—if he reads it.”