Olivier shook his head and spoke quietly. ‘No. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in years.’
Bertrand abandoned all resemblance to Sigmund Freud. ‘I knew it. I fuckingknewit. I told you this was going to be good for you.’
‘Isit good for me though? I’ve realised all these things but I came back here anyway. At least when I was in denial I was happy.’
Bertrand leaned forward and grabbed Olivier’s knee. ‘No, you weren’t, Oli. Not really. Not deep down.’
‘What do I do then?’
‘Beselfish.’
Olivier’s memory flashed back to Ashleigh on the beach, smiling at him, telling him he wasn’t very good at asking for what he wanted. Olivier groaned and slouched down even further in his chair, so the cat jumped off in protest. ‘I can’t tell Auguste I’m not coming back to work though can I. Not just so I can go back to England for Christmas.’
‘Why not?’ Bertrand swigged his wine. ‘What is he going to do? Fire you for taking your holiday?’
‘He’s my papa. It’s more complicated than that. I’m supposed to care whether his business succeeds or not. Help him, when he needs it.’
‘And how is he supposed to feel about you: his son? He’s supposed to care how you feel too, isn’t he?’ Bertrand topped up their glasses. ‘Has he given you much indication that it’s a two-way street? The man hasn’t let you have a holiday in nearly two years and the moment you do, he guilt-trips you into coming back here.’
Olivier rubbed his hand along his jaw, Ashleigh’s words coming back to him about how she couldn’t rely on him when he was still beholden to Auguste. Would she have been able to risk it if he was firmer with his papa?
No. She still hated the fact he lived over here and she lived over there. It was always doomed wasn’t it?
But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be making changes. His relationship with his papa wasn’t healthy and Bertrand was right: he hadn’t been truly happy, not for a long time. Spending time with his maman who supported and encouraged him and didn’t boss him around, and with his tante and cousin who welcomed him in, and his friends who were fun and kind, and learning to work with chocolate in a way that made him feel full of curiosity and enthusiasm and gave him a sense of achievement. And of course, the joy he felt when he was with Ashleigh. All those things had shown him what happiness really felt like.
That was why he was so pissed off.Hewas the one who had given it up, and for what? To stay in his papa’s good books, in a job that he didn’t even like anymore?
‘I amsuchan idiot,’ he said, draining half his glass of wine.
‘Well, I didn’t want to say anything,’ Bertrand joked gently. ‘Look, it’s time to have it out with him, Oli. We only get one life. Stop letting him run yours.’
And Olivier knew his friend was right. He knew what he wanted to do. He just didn’t know if he was brave enough to do it and face the consequences if it all went wrong.
