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“How about an extravagant retreat to a lavish French estate in wine country?”
“It’s a start.”
I bite my lip, suddenly swinging my legs off the chair and standing. I lose my shoes, crossing to his chair; sipping my wine as I sink into his lap, my legs astride his.
“How old were they when you got married? Cora and Naomi, I mean.”
His eyes darken as they search mine.
“We don’t need to talk about that.”
I shrug. “I’m just curious.”
He eyes me.
“Cora was seven. Naomi was ten.”
“Did you get along with them?”
“If you’re looking for a comparative analysis between that home life and the one we had together,” he sighs. “Don’t. They were different circumstances, Ella.”
I swallow, a pit gnawing in my stomach.
“Because you were going to marry my mother to fulfill a promise to my dad. And you married theirs for love.”
Something stabs at me when I say it. He frowns, turning to look away.
“Fuck,” I mumble. “I’m sorry. That… I don’t have a right to bring this—”
“I told myself for a time that I did,” he murmurs.
My eyes snap back to his.
“That you…”
“Loved Matilde.”
A lump forms in my throat.
“I didn’t,” he says gently. “And I do feel bad for that. But…” he shakes his head. “I doubt she ever loved me, either.”
I frown. “Then…”
“Why did we get married?”
He rolls his eyes.
“Because we were young and impulsive, and lashing out at different things. Matilde had just been left by her husband, Paul, who ran off with Oliver’s wife, Vanessa.”
I know I’ve heard this story before. But it still sounds so terrible, even if I have this underlying… something towards the woman who was once married to Noel.
Jealousy?
I shiver.
“She wanted stability for herself and her daughters. And I think some of it was that her ex-husband didn’t care for me. But for me?” His mouth twists. “I knew that Oliver wanted her.”
My brows raise.
