AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Léo picked up his fork. ‘Perhaps you do not like me saying that I find it too quick to live together.’
‘It’s fine, I’m used to people being judgemental about it,’ I said, digging into my lunch. ‘Pretty much everyone thought it was too soon. I got all the: Why don’t you wait? What’s the hurry? Enjoy the fun of dating each other while you still can! Everyone except my mum, that was, who was positively ecstatic.’
‘Why is your mother so happy about this?’ asked Léo, lifting a huge forkful of avocado and rocket into his mouth and chewing enthusiastically.
‘She thinks I’m a bit of a failure,’ I said, taking a slug of my coffee. ‘My career has never really taken off, for example. The boyfriends I’ve had have all been useless. I think she’d given up on the idea that I could make something of myself.’
Léo put his fork down on the side of his plate, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
‘How is moving in with your boyfriend making something of yourself?’ he asked, looking genuinely confused.
Wasn’t it obvious?
‘Well, it’s about becoming an adult, isn’t it? That’s what you do. You find someone and you fall in love and you start making plans for the future. That’s what people expect, isn’t it?’
Léo looked sceptical. ‘So we must all conform to what society expects of us, is that what you mean?’
God, this was coming out all wrong.
‘Si has a good job,’ I said, feeling like I needed to justify myself but having the sneaking suspicion I was making things ten times worse. ‘He earns three times as much as I do. The reality is that without him, I’d still be renting a box room in a shabby house share at the dodgy end of Green Lanes.’
Léo rubbed at his temple as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘You consider yourself a success or a failure based on what kind of job your boyfriend has?’
Seriously, this guy was unbelievable. For some reason he seemed to think he was well within his rights to comment on every single decision I’d ever made.
‘I didn’t say that,’ I said.
Admittedly, though, I had sort of said that and now I felt stupid, because it wasn’t what I really thought at all. I didn’t care about Si’s money. It was just that I knew my mum did.
We sat in silence for a minute or two, the first real one we’d had. It was busy in the café now, full of locals coming in for coffee and respite and Parisian yummy mummies. They looked so happy and relaxed, with their gorgeous, gap-toothed kids, feeding them mushed up butternut squash out of glass jars and wiping their mouths with pristine white muslin cloths. It was another world, all of that, one that I still didn’t feel quite ready for. Should I be, now I’d turned thirty? If I heeded what I’d read in the press about fertility dropping dramatically after the age of thirty-five, I should by rights be feeling broody by now, or at least be getting used to the idea, even if I wasn’t quite yet. It was something Si talked about a lot. All his mates at work were married with kids, he said, and it was what he wanted too, and soon. He said he’d like three children, two boys and a girl. I’d laughed at this idyllic, middle-class fantasy of his. Where would we put three kids in a one-bedroom, rented flat? And more to the point, did I really want to spend the next twenty-five years raising children when there was still so much I wanted to do myself? He never pushed the point, and I was sure I’d feel differently in the future, but right now, it was one more thing that we weren’t on the same page about: he was ready to start a family and I wasn’t. And sitting in a café in Paris, miles away from him, it felt like a major thing to disagree over.
Léo nudged my foot under the table. ‘You are quiet, Hannah. I have said too much?’
‘You noticed,’ I said, making light of the fact that he’d really hit a nerve.
‘Sometimes I say what is in my head and I do not think about whether it is right to say it out loud. Whether I might upset somebody with my opinions.’
I looked him right in the eye. ‘Is that an apology?’
‘Not exactly,’ he said, swirling brioche around his plate to soak up the oil. ‘Because I believe it is better to be truthful, even when it is difficult. Even when somebody does not want to hear it.’
I put my arms on the table, leaning forward. ‘So you’re telling me you’ve never pretended that you like something when you don’t? Or lied to spare someone’s feelings? Or because you’re scared of the consequences?’
‘Never. Have you?’
‘Yes. I do it all the time,’ I said, laughing softly.
‘You do?’
I took another mouthful of coffee.
‘I take it you don’t mind people being honest with you, either, then?’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘Of course not. I like it.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Do you, though?’
He smiled at me. ‘Let us try.’
