Audrey’s smile faded. “I’m going to miss you, too. But I’m going to be emailing you the whole time, and texting, and calling, and showing up on your doorstep until you’re tempted to swear at me.”
“That day is never going to come.” Grace hugged her. “Thank you. These last few weeks have been—well, I think you saved me.”
“I think we saved each other.” Audrey squeezed her and then pulled away. “Go, or you’ll be late and then he might think you’re not coming and throw himself in the river or something.”
Grace sniffed and smoothed her hair. “How do I look?”
“You look like a woman who knows what she wants out of life, so go and grab it.”
“He was the love of her life, and I didn’t even know.” Grace leaned on the bridge, staring down at the water. David stood next to her, his arm brushing against hers. He’d been waiting for her, his eyes scanning the throngs of tourists, clearly worried that she wouldn’t come. She’d seen the relief in his face when he’d caught sight of her.
“Everyone has their secrets.”
“But why didn’t she tell me?”
“Perhaps it hurt too much to talk about it. Perhaps she regretted her choice. Who knows? Not every choice is easy and obvious. And what can seem right at the time might not seem right when you look back.”
She could feel his gaze on her. Knew he was talking about himself as well as Mimi.
“I can’t believe I have a grandfather. And not only that, I love him. He comes into the bookshop every day. We’ve had tea. Chatted.”
“I’m happy you’ve had a good time here.”
She tilted her head and looked at him. “Really?”
“Yes. I thought about you all the time. I worried about you. I kept wondering if you were all right on your own.”
Grace thought about Audrey and smiled. “I wasn’t on my own much. And being here has been good for me. I’ve done things I wouldn’t have done if we’d been together. I’ve made some changes.”
“I’m thinking of making some, too.” He took a breath. “I’ve decided to resign from my job.”
“You’ve resigned?” She couldn’t have been more surprised.
“No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you about it first.”
“What’s it got to do with me?”
“I hope a lot.” He stroked her face gently. “I’ve had a lot of time to think lately, and I realized that all those things I said—well, I was wrong, Gracie. I was in a bad place and it was easier to blame you than take responsibility. It was never about you. It was about me. The man I felt I’d become. The life I was living. Sophie leaving made me question all of it. I felt weighed down by responsibility. There was no surprise, no mystery, every day was mapped out and I could see all the way to old age. It terrified me.”
“And Lissa offered surprise and excitement.” The lure of the forbidden, she thought, wondering why she was suddenly able to be so analytical. “It’s human nature, isn’t it? The thing we can’t have always seems more attractive than the thing we already have.”
David gave a rueful smile. “I wish I’d had your clarity of thinking. Life seemed hard, and for a time it was easier to step out of it than step up. The excitement of being with Lissa wore off once we were together all the time. When I was still married to you, I had the security of our marriage and the excitement of an affair. Turns out an affair isn’t so exciting when it becomes the main relationship.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you tell me you found it hard?”
“Because you were relentlessly upbeat about Sophie leaving. It made me feel inadequate that I couldn’t be as positive about it as you were. Your approach was so healthy and mature. You were fine about it.”
“No, I wasn’t. I didn’t feel that way at all. Inside I was heartbroken, devastated, but I thought if I kept up an act and said all the right things eventually I might start to feel the way I wanted to feel.” She took a deep breath. “And I could pretend that I didn’t realize you felt differently and needed to talk, but the truth is I did sense that. I was afraid to open that conversation because what I was feeling was so huge, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to bottle it again. And I didn’t want Sophie to feel the guilt and responsibility that I felt at her age.”
“I was faithful to you for more than two decades. I never in a million years thought I’d have an affair. It goes against my values, and everything I feel for you. I don’t know what made me step over that line, but it wasn’t anything you did.”
“She gave you something that I wasn’t able to at that time. She made you feel young. It was my fault, too.” She could see it so clearly now, and her brief but intense experience with Philippe had given her more sympathy for David. His affair had little to do with sex or love, and everything to do with a need for the unpredictable, the unfamiliar, the exciting. For a short time he’d thrown off the responsibility of adultho
od. And what about her own brief fling? Hers had been mostly driven by a need for attention. A need to reinstate some of the confidence that David’s actions had destroyed. “Some of what you said about our life together was right. I confused chaos with spontaneity. I held so tight to life I almost strangled it.”
“It’s understandable.”
“Maybe, but not excusable. As you say, it was my life. If I let it get boring and predictable that was my fault.”