Second Chance With The Best Man

A surge of anger towards Laurent caught her by surprise. Why had he come into her life? Why, when she’d lowered her defences for the first time ever, thereby allowing herself to fall for a man, had he broken her heart? And as she watched him pull on the oars, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his forearm muscles bunching with each pull, her anger soared even more. She didn’t want to be so aware of him, so giddy around him, so vulnerable, and her resolve that she would never let him get to her again hardened.

She needed to remember his faults. He liked to eat strong-smelling cheeses that had made her gag whenever she’d opened his fridge. He took work even more seriously than she did—how often had he cancelled dates or forgotten about them, to her annoyance? And despite his gregarious personality, in truth he was a closed book. She knew so little about his background, his family. And he had a birthmark on his bottom. Okay, so she’d admit that that was actually cute.

‘You’re starting to scare me.’

She jumped at his voice. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You look like you’re trying to figure out the most effective way of murdering me. In fact, it reminds me of the evening your work colleagues came to a party in my house.’

Their first fight. ‘You were over an hour late for your own party. My colleagues were wondering if you were a figment of my imagination.’

His eyes glinted. ‘Ah, so, despite your denials to the contrary, you had been talking to them about me as I had suspected.’

I couldn’t stop talking about you. I could see my colleagues’ amusement as I recounted things you had said and done, day after day, but I was too giddy with amazement over you to stop. ‘They wanted to see for themselves if your wine collection was as impressive as I said it was.’ She smiled when she admitted, ‘My senior partner especially. He was rather put out when he saw it was a much more extensive collection than his.’

And then she remembered what had happened that night after the others had left, how Laurent had made love to her in the moonlight that had streamed through the window and onto the floor of his bedroom, his eyes ablaze with passion and emotion.

She dropped her head. Inhaled against the disturbing mix of desire and pain that was grabbing her heart.

‘How’s work?’

She looked up at his softly spoken question. Had he guessed she was remembering that night on his bedroom floor? Her anger resurged. ‘I’ve been offered a promotion which would involve a transfer to the Singapore office.’

Up ahead on a bend in the river, below a string of lights threaded through trees, a wooden sign on the riverbank announced that they had arrived at La Belle Epoque.

Laurent guided the boat towards the restaurant’s river steps, nodding approvingly to her news. ‘That’s fantastic. When are you moving?’

He shifted the oars inside the boat, wood upon wood making a solid thump, a sound just like the thud her heart gave to his enthusiastic congratulations.

She gritted her teeth and eyed him, not caring at the hurt heat flaming in her cheeks. Did he not even feel a single pang that she would be moving so far away? How could he not realise how torn she was about leaving her family behind?

The move to Singapore was an incredible opportunity, but in truth, deep down, she was scared of being lonely...forgotten by her family.

‘Are you going to accept?’

She shrugged at his question. ‘Do you think I should?’

He considered her for a moment and then those blue eyes blazed with an ominous energy. ‘Is something or somebody keeping you in London?’

She folded her arms. ‘Perhaps.’

The blaze in his eyes intensified. ‘Are you dating someone?’

She’d been on some dates during the past few months; wasn’t getting back on the figurative horse the best way to get over a fall? By dating other guys she’d hoped that maybe she could rekindle the hope and optimism and openness that had been growing in her before she’d met Laurent, but her dates hadn’t been a success. She’d felt too wary, had struggled to connect with them. Now she clung to the hope that maybe it was just a case that she’d tried dating too quickly and that with time she would be more open to a relationship...but she feared that maybe she would never find it inside herself to trust a man again. ‘How about you? Are you seeing someone?’ she countered.

* * *

Laurent stood and jumped onto the landing steps, jealousy coiling in his stomach. For the past year he’d immersed himself in work, driven by the need to prove himself as a worthy CEO, but now as he turned to find Hannah’s eyes sparking with anger he realised it was also to distract himself from the pain he’d caused her. He held out his hand and Hannah reluctantly took it. When she leaped, her hand tightened for a split second on his but the moment her foot touched the step she snatched it away.

They stood facing each other, the air between them dense with tension.

Hannah’s jawline tightened. ‘So, are you dating someone?’

‘I’m too busy with work.’

‘You worked crazy hours in London—it didn’t stop you dating then.’

‘It’s different now.’

‘In what way?’

She was testing him, pushing him for an answer and he wasn’t sure what her question really was.

‘Running a family business is complicated.’

Her nose wrinkled at that.

He pulled in a breath and admitted, ‘After what happened between us, I don’t feel like dating.’

‘Yet?’

Would he ever want to date again? Right now, he couldn’t see himself wanting to ask another woman out. But he couldn’t admit that to her so instead he simply shrugged.

She looked at him with a puzzled expression. ‘You’re the one who ended it.’

When he’d ended their relationship, he’d used the excuse of needing to focus on his new life in France. And the fact that they wanted different things in life, namely that he wasn’t interested in marriage. He’d kept from her the actual reasons why he would never marry, how his trust in others had been destroyed as a teenager, because to do so would have meant revealing his true self to her, a self he spent most of the time trying to avoid.

They shifted apart at the sound of footsteps behind them. Gabriel, the owner of La Belle Epoque, greeted them warmly and guided them to an outdoor table with views of a weir and an old mill.

Local teenagers were playing in the river, laughing and calling to one another in the evening sunshine.

After Gabriel had taken their order and poured them a glass of white wine each, Hannah smiled as one of the teenagers swung over the river, whooping loudly before landing with an enormous splash in the water, which earned her applause from her gang. ‘When we were teenagers and the weather was fine, I used to go down to the river that ran through our land with Cora and Emily to swim and hang out. Did you and François do the same?’

‘We spent our summers with my grandparents in Paris.’

She placed her elbow on the table and balanced her chin in the cup of her hand. ‘I thought Parisians left the city for the summer. Why didn’t they come here?’

‘My grandparents moved to Paris after my father took over the family business.’ He stopped with the intention of saying no more, but thanks to Hannah’s expectant silence he found himself eventually admitting, ‘There were arguments. My grandfather didn’t approve of how my father was running the business, so they moved away. When we were old enough I asked my grandfather if François and I could spend the summers with them in Paris.’

‘Did your parents not mind?’

He couldn’t help but give a rueful laugh. ‘They were too busy to even notice we weren’t around.’

She grimaced but then, ever the optimist, asked with excitement, ‘Did you like Paris?’

‘We both loved it. François even stayed and finished his final years of school there.’

Her brows shot up. ‘Wow, I couldn’t see my parents agreeing to that—they even struggled when we left for university. Your parents obviously encouraged you to be independent.’

She was reading the situation all wrong. Not surprising given her background. Once again this evening he felt torn between changing the subject and telling her about his family. Before, he’d never felt that compulsion. In London, he’d been able to block out his past, but being back in Cognac for the past year had stirred up all the memories and emotions of how betrayed he’d felt by his parents’ affairs.

‘Is everything okay? You seem upset.’

He started at Hannah’s words. She’d always been so good at reading his moods.

‘Our family life was rather chaotic. I persuaded François he would do better in a calmer environment.’

‘Have you always been the protective older brother?’

He grinned at the playfulness of her question. ‘Probably.’

Hannah grinned back and then in a flash memories and attraction danced between them.

His throat tightened.

Hannah twisted her wine glass around and around. ‘It was a shame you couldn’t make Lara and François’s civil ceremony in London last week. I know François was disappointed but at least your father was well enough to travel with your mother.’

‘I was travelling in Asia—promoting the House.’

She snorted, clearly not buying his answer. ‘I reckon, given your views on marriage, that you were simply avoiding the ceremony.’

‘That’s possibly true too.’ Seeing her smile of satisfaction that she’d called it right, he added, ‘But before you accuse me of disloyalty or not playing my part, can I point out that there is no tradition here in France of there being a best man at weddings? But as Lara is keen to have her sister as her bridesmaid, to keep some British traditions, I have agreed to be the best man.’

She laughed at that. ‘You make it sound as though you have agreed to take a place on a battlefield.’

Was marriage, commitment, trusting in others, so easy for her? ‘Did you mind being asked to be the wedding celebrant?’

‘I was honoured. What else did you expect?’

He wanted to say that he thought she should have said no to François and Lara. But instead he said, ‘Are you actually enjoying the work? It can’t be easy combining it with your day job.’

‘You still don’t understand why I want to be a celebrant, do you?’

‘It’s not the career direction a young and successful finance director usually takes.’

Their conversation was interrupted by one of the waiting staff arriving with their orders: salade au saumon et l’avocat for Hannah, double carpaccio de boeuf for himself.

After they had eaten for a few minutes in silence, Hannah placed her cutlery on her plate and said, ‘I love being a wedding celebrant because I want to contribute something meaningful to people’s lives.’ She paused and looked at him with a determined pride. ‘I need something positive and uplifting in my life.’

He lowered his own cutlery. ‘I’m sorry that I hurt you.’

She sat back in her chair, folded her arms and stared towards the teenagers who were walking home through the meadow on the other side of the river. ‘It’s in the past.’

‘We’ll see each other in the future. I don’t want to cause you any further hurt.’ For reasons he didn’t understand he felt compelled to add, ‘Nothing has changed...there can be no future for us.’

Her gaze flew back to him. Anger now sparked in her eyes. She stood. ‘It’s been a year. I’m over it... I’m over you, Laurent. I’ve moved on. Don’t overinflate your importance in my life.’

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