‘It’s not running away to want to make a fresh start. I like Brighton—’
‘You’ve been there for a holiday. Everyone wants to move to the place they’ve been on holiday – though usually they are more appealing than a grey little seaside town in England.’
‘Ilikethe friends and family I have there,’ Olivier continued firmly.
‘And youdon’tlike the friends and family you have here?’ Auguste rested his hands on the desk and leaned forward, his fists closed, knuckles down.
‘Papa—’
‘You want to move to a whole other country to get away from me. You musthateme.’
‘No. But I can’t keep living my life according to your rules. I’m suffocating—’
‘You can’t be serious?’ Auguste laughed again. ‘You don’t listen to me. It’s like pulling teeth with you, Olivier. If you listened to me, you never would have married Nancy and wound up divorced so young.’
Olivier took a sharp breath in. ‘You talk like you’re not divorced yourself. Relationships don’t work out sometimes. There were reasons for that and – this might come as a shock to you – but you never knew all the ins and outs of my marriage. Nor do I want your opinion on any relationships I have in the future. Not unless I ask for it. You don’t seem to want me to be happy unless it’s been orchestrated by you and you can take the credit for it.’
‘You go too far.’ He banged his fist on the table. ‘I love you, Olivier. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you.’
Olivier rubbed his neck, trying to calm himself again. He didn’t want to say hurtful things. He wasn’t sure his papa was truly hurt or just acting like he was, but either way, Olivier didn’t feel comfortable letting his adrenalin take over. ‘Okay. I believe that… But I don’t think you loving me and your desire to have me exactly where you want me, are mutually exclusive.’
Auguste was quiet, the dark stubble on his face moving slightly as his jaw bone flexed. ‘You are set on this?’
‘I am.’
‘So…you drove all the way back to Paris to turn around and leave again? Aren’t you going to stay to help me out – at least for tonight?’
Olivier unclenched his fists, fighting the desire to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers. ‘No. I already said. You’ll manage. I’ll come back and work my notice after my holiday. You know Luis is ambitious – ask him to step up.’
‘What about just staying for dinner with me? You’ll have to pack up and arrange things surely?’ Auguste flicked at some paperwork, avoiding Olivier’s eyes.
‘Doyouhave time for dinner?’
Auguste swore and rubbed his hand over his mouth as though keeping some words in that he dearly wanted to say. Probably wanting to point out how short-staffed he was, so of course he didn’t have time. And Olivier couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was there now; he could offer to help but if he gave in now, he feared this whole conversation would have been for nothing. ‘How about breakfast tomorrow? Would you stay that long?’
Olivier considered it. He’d take today, sort out his ticket for tomorrow, perhaps see if Bertrand and his family were free that evening so he could cook a dinner for them and wish them a good Christmas. Perhaps even wander around the city to buy some presents. He hadn’t done that for a long time either.
‘Okay, Papa. We can do that.’
