‘I find that hard to believe.’ Angus was peering up at the tree again. ‘Or maybe not. Are those fairy lights up there as well?’
‘Yes.’ Tilly nodded. ‘It was Julien who put those up there. Ellie told me about the night he proposed to her, right here on this terrace. She said it felt like there were a thousand stars twinkling with the lights and the candles.’ Her sigh was one of approval. ‘And he’d put champagne and her favourite cheese on the table because she’d told him that was her fantasy of a romantic scene.’
Angus grunted. ‘Maybe it’s a genetic advantage being French. Do you all have romance embedded in your DNA?’
‘My parents didn’t,’ Tilly reminded him.
‘Did they like each other, at least?’
‘Oh, yes. I think they were good friends. But that wasn’t enough to…’ She gave her head a tiny shake. ‘It just wasn’t enough.’
They both sipped their drinks in silence that accentuated the sounds carried in the still evening air. Tilly could hear the sporadic clicking of cicadas, the song of a blackbird and the tolling of church bells from the nearby village.
‘I’m still not sure what defines a good friendship.’ It sounded as if Angus was thinking aloud. ‘Let alone what makes it less of a risk to commit to spending the rest of your life with someone. Isn’t friendship how a significant relationshipshouldbegin? How do you know when you’ve crossed the boundary?’
Tilly drank some more of her champagne, needing a moment to choose her words with care. Was he asking because he was wondering about the friendship he had withher?
‘Some do begin like that,’ she agreed. ‘Because a friend is someone whose company makes the world a better place to exist in. A close friend is someone you love and you care very much about their life and their health and happiness. It’s someone who makes you feel that your company does the same thing for them – that it adds something special totheirlife.’
‘I still don’t see the difference.’ There was a note of disappointment in his voice. ‘That’s exactly what you want in a life partner, isn’t it?’
Tilly bit her lip. Was this conversation going to lead to him telling her that they were no more than good friends? That they would never be more than that? But she couldn’t be less than honest with Angus because it felt as if he’d always been honest with her. That he was talking about aspects of life that he might not have even thought of discussing with anyone else.
‘You need to bein lovewith the person you want to spend your life with,’ she said softly. ‘Not just friends. Being in love has all of those things but it’s on a very different level.’ She looked up to catch, and hold, his gaze. ‘That’s when the company of that person doesn’t just make life better – being with themislife.’
Oh, mon Dieu… How on earth had this conversation become so heavy? Tilly was feeling the words she was uttering with all her heart – the way she had when she was trying to explain why romance mattered so much, when they were standing in the shadow of theL’Envol sculpture. Even so, she couldn’t help adding a little more, albeit in just a whisper. ‘It’s being truly alive. Wanting to live forever so that you can have that long with the person you love.’
Not only was she feeling these words so acutely but they came with the extra kick of a chaser – the sinking sensation that more heartbreak than she had bargained for might well be sneaking up behind her, waiting to pounce.
She had to stop this before it got any more painful. Before she ended up confessing how she felt about Angus. She shook her head, getting to her feet, in an attempt to dilute the intensity.
‘I need to go and cook the tagliatelle,’ she said. ‘I think this wine is going straight to my head.’
* * *
The beef stroganoff was the best Angus had ever tasted.
They ate out on the terrace as the light faded enough to necessitate lighting the candle on the table so that they could see what they were eating.
He still hadn’t wound down completely.
He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he’d had an intense afternoon’s work. Someone else enrolled in the drug trial was showing the same early symptoms of headache and nausea as the person who’d been admitted to hospital for observation. Worse, that first patient was showing neurological symptoms now, with some unsteadiness on his feet and difficulty finding words. A CT scan was being organised.
It was Angus’s role to stand back and see the big picture, letting the people responsible for monitoring clinical data, risk identification and media attention do their jobs and report back to him. He had, however, been the one to raise the elephant in the room about whether the trial needed to be shut down immediately, but the chief medical officer at Novaryn Pharmaceuticals was pushing back, insisting that there was no clear evidence that the issue was drug related. In fact, there was evidence to suggest it wasn’t, because this volunteer had a family history of stroke that hadn’t been disclosed when he enrolled for the trial. Angus had been reminded that he was being employed to assess reputational, not clinical, risk and that the stakes involved in pulling the plug on the development of adrug that had been subjected to years of expert supervision and the investment of many millions of dollars were extremely high.
The tension of this evolving situation in his professional life was something Angus knew he could handle. What he wasn’t so sure of being able to dismiss was that disconcerting bubble of anxiety deep in his gut that had formed the moment he’d realised his relationship with Tilly was far deeper than he’d ever intended – with anyone. That his layer of emotional protection had completely failed. That, if he stopped ignoring the need to examine what was inside that bubble, he was going to have to accept his earlier conclusion that he was, by any definition, in love with Tilly.
How could it be anything else when he’d discovered that her safety matteredthatmuch? Far more than his own.
And it was… disturbing. Alarming, even. He’d found himself watching her footing like a hawk on the way down that mountain, his hand ready to catch hers at the slightest hint of her balance wobbling, driven by a fear that she could be injured – or potentially lost…
No. He wasn’t going to think about it now, either.
If he could ignore it maybe he could start to feel safe again. Repair those protective walls, even.
Angus wanted to enjoy this delicious meal. And the pleasant distraction of listening to Tilly chattering happily about her plans for the photo shoot she wanted to do on the summit of the Baou des Blancs when her friend Luc was available. She had been thinking about the best time of day, the best angles for photography and what the perfect weather might be, along with a surprising number of other details that had to be decided.
‘I’ll have to get hold of Clara and Antoine and make sure they’re still happy to do it,’ she said as they were finishing their meal. ‘And think about what Clara should be wearing. I don’t want anything floaty and romantic. No clichés at all. Thisneeds to be different – to make people think that A Promise in Provence is not the same as every other business doing this kind of event planning. I want it to be more…audacieuse. I don’t know the word I want. Bold?’
