Marlow arrived at Guillaume’s and found him at the door, hands in pockets, looking sheepish. She flashed back to him and Luc in a full-on donnybrook at her place. Honestly.
“I wanted to talk to you about what happened,” said Guillaume.
“I bet.” She walked past him inside. “What is this, grade school? You and Luc both need to grow up.”
“I don’t know what came over me. I’ll never do it again, I promise.”
He followed her to her office. She opened her laptop.
“But I do want to fight for you.”
“I wish you two would stop saying that!” said Marlow. “We said we wouldn’t behave that way. I told you about being involved with Luc. You said you could handle it. You even told me you sleep with other women, so me sleeping with another man wasfine. And then the moment you two were in the same room, the testosterone flew. It was farcical.”
“For you, perhaps.”
“That’s the problem! Men. I mean, I can choose them. I either pick the guy who gets me pregnant but will never be with me, or the guys who get into fights like teenage idiots.”
“I cannot speak for Luc, but surely a man wanting to fight for you is a good thing?”
“On what planet? You just want something, someone, to claim. I am my own person.”
“I agree. I do not want to claim you. People can sleep with whoever they want. They don’t have to be exclusive. And I respect you—more than I respect myself at the moment.”
“Getting involved with both of you was my fault, but I have bigger fish to fry.”
“Another strange English saying?”
“Yes. It means I have other fires burning. Other problems, and bigger ones.”
“Can I help? If they are back taxes, please, allow me.”
“I don’t want to owe you.”
“You wouldn’t. I am invested in you—you and Sabine. And I am invested in this area. Twenty thousand euros is a small amount for me to pay to breathe life into Mirabelle.”
“I don’t know. I have the appeal—that’s coming up, too.”
“If that succeeds, won’t it solve everything? You’ll get your euro back, and you won’t have to pay the taxes.”
“True, but I can’t risk it. If I wait, and I don’t get the appeal, then I’m left owing the taxes and trying to sell the house right when I have to go back to work in Toronto.”
Guillaume looked like he might reach out but resisted. “My offer remains.”
“I have emails to read, the interview with Estelle from Cannes, then the interview for Oscar’s job,” said Marlow. “I really appreciate the apology and the talk and the offer of help,but my brain feels like it’s going to explode. Can I get back to you?” He nodded, and the way he looked at her—longingly, it seemed to her—sent a little shiver down her spine, but she resisted physical contact, too. Better safe than sorry.
Outside Guillaume’s house, Sabine sat in the driver’s seat of Aubin’s car. He sat beside her.
“Do I have to?” she asked.
“Everyone in Europe knows how to drive manual. So should you.”
“But you’ve driven every time we go out, and it’s been fine.”
“One day you’ll have to get somewhere, and you won’t have someone else to help.”
“I hate doing things I’m not good at,” said Sabine. “It makes me look bad.”
“You can’t look bad in front of me.” He put the stick shift into gear. “This is first gear. That pedal is the clutch. You have to press down on it to put the car in gear. You also press down on it while taking your foot off the accelerator to change gears. To start moving the car, ease your foot off the clutch while applying the accelerator gently until you feel the engine engaging. Then you can ease off the clutch and use the accelerator to move forwards. And, of course, don’t forget to take the handbrake off.”
