“I’m going outside,” Pierre said, giving her back a gentle pat.
Soon, Nora heard his whistles out on the terrace. She wasn’t certain how long it was before he returned, but it felt like forever. She had wiped her face and blown her nose, thankful to be alone for it.
When Pierre came in, he said they probably should go to sleep and see what the morning brought, but Nora knew sleep would be impossible for her.
Suddenly the sound of a vehicle crunching on the gravel came from outside the house. Pierre leapt up and ran to the door. He shouted, “It is Jacques!”
There was shouting and a commotion, and seconds later Atticus and Fantôme burst into the kitchen, yelping and barking. Tails wagged in a frenzy of joy.
Nora got down on the floor with them. Her tears flowed freely as Atticus climbed on her and licked and nuzzled her, almost knocking her over. Fantôme joined in the celebration as Pierre knelt with them. It was clumsy, messy, and overwhelming, a tangle of fur and arms and happy chaos.
When he finally stood up, Pierre spoke to Jacques and a woman at the door who looked on in amazement. He invited them in and introduced them to Nora, who was still on the floor with tears pouring down her face.
Nora blubbered, “Merci, merci, merci,” and tried to pull herself together as Atticus continued to climb all over her and cover her face in sloppy dog kisses. The thought did cross her mind briefly she might be embarrassing Pierre, but she didn’t care.
“The dogs were shut in one of the outbuildings,” the woman, Janine, explained to Nora in English. “I think they ate a lot of scraps at our place and lay down in there to sleep. Our brother did not see them when he closed everything up. We are so sorry!”
Pierre’s face glowed with happiness as he bent over again and hugged both dogs. The corners of his shimmering eyes crinkled and his mouth curved into a gentle smile. He looked at Nora with an expression she hadn’t seen before.
He gave her his hand and helped her to her feet. Caught in the moment, they threw their arms around each other … and quickly parted. Nora continued to repeat her thanks to Jacques and Janine as she wiped her tears.
Pierre invited the couple to join them in the salon. He explained to Nora that he and Jacques had been close friends since childhood. Jacques’ wife, Janine, was originally from Quebec and spoke English well.
Pierre stirred the embers in the fireplace and laid on kindling and a log. They settled comfortably and enjoyed easy conversation about the holidays. Pierre poured more pastis. The dogs collapsed on the floor.
When Jacques and Janine left, it was well past midnight. They exchanged warm bises with Pierre and Nora and insisted Nora visit them the next time she came to the Moreau’s.
Nora took a moment to sit back down on the couch and respond to texts from Chloe. Pierre had sent everyone short messages to say the dogs were home and fine, but Chloe wanted details.
Pierre refilled their glasses and sat with her on the couch. He seemed as relieved as she was that the evening ended well, and told Nora some amusing stories about adventures with Jacques from when they were growing up.
To her surprise, he even asked about Nora’s life in Canada.
That was the last thing Nora remembered until she awoke on the sofa in the early hours of the morning, wrapped in a warm shawl. And in Pierre’s arms.
Horrified, she desperately tried to remember what had happened after their company left. The dull ache in her head was a clear sign pastis had been involved.
She lay still for a few moments, listening to Pierre’s steady breath. Slowly she slipped out from under his arm. He stirred, mumbling something indistinct, and Nora sat on the edge of the couch, waiting to see if he would wake up.
Nora studied his handsome face. His brow was smooth, missing its usual tension. She resisted the urge to gently kiss it. If only he looked at her like this. She stood quietly and covered him with the shawl.
Atticus followed her up to the bedroom and once she was in bed, he climbed up and plastered his back to hers.
Nora’s emotions were in a tangle—relief that the dogs were fine; confusion about what had transpired with Pierre.
Will he be upset with me? Should I be upset? Did we kiss? Had there been more? Did I pass out like a silly girl? Or…?
ChapterThirty
Nora awoketo the sound of Atticus snoring and the enticing smell of fresh coffee. She became aware of a dull ache in her head and remembered how her evening had ended. Well, partly remembered.No, I don’t remember how it ended. I only remember how I woke up during the night in Pierre’s arms. What I need to know is how I got there.
That was the thought hanging in her head as she stood in the shower. Would he still be in the kitchen when she went downstairs? She wondered how she was going to face him … but just for a moment.
Common sense kicked in and she reprimanded herself for such immature thoughts.So what if we kissed? Why should I mind? I’m attracted to him, but I’m not looking for anything. I should accept whatever happened and enjoy it. He needs to stop being uptight with me and I need to stop worrying about it. We need to be adults … and friends.
Pierre stood at the counter, looking out the open kitchen window. Birdsong filtered in, mixed with thetuk-tuk-tukof the chickens foraging in the garden.
“Bonjour,” Nora said, hoping her voice came out as casual and cheery.
