Page 41 of Love in Bloom

“Have you been to Toledo?” Camille asked as she stared at one of the four paintings in the room.

“No. I’ve never traveled to Spain.”

“I’d like to go back. There’s so much I didn’t see.”

“Shall we go crack on to the gardens?”

“Yes. As beautiful as the château is, we did come for the greenery. I can’t wait to see what flowers they grow here.”

They stepped out of the building and into the sunlight.

“Can you see them, the hearts?” Camille pointed to a perfect square of hedges surrounding others of a red and pink hue. “I’m so glad we went upstairs and took in the view of the gardens from above. I might have missed the heart shapes otherwise. It’s such a grand and beautiful garden. Don’t you think so? Of course you do. You love the botanicals almost as much as I do.”

Tristan noted the extra bounce in Camille’s step and the glow in her blue eyes today as they walked. He expected their kiss was the source of her exuberance. With each step, Tristan grew more uneasy. He enjoyed the time he spent with Camille too much. He needed to pull back, but how?

“It’s like walking through a living patchwork quilt. Do you feel how it’s alive and we’re a part of it?” She squeezed his hand.

“That seems a bit poetic for you, down-to-earth Camille.”

“I have plenty to feel poetic about. Don’t they say that there’s a poet buried deep in everyone’s soul?”

“Sure.” He grinned. She really did bring out the best in him. “Are you ready to tackle the maze now that you’ve seen the ornamental gardens one and two, the sun garden, and the kitchen garden?”

“Yes. Though this one might prove more amusing. I think the hedges are even shorter than the one in the children’s maze we did. We’ll be able to see each other’s wrong turns. No hiding our mistakes from one another.”

They entered the maze and took opposite directions. Frowning, Tristan made turns without thinking, running into dead ends. No hiding our mistakes from one another. Camille’s words rang in his ears. He still hid mistakes from her. The least of which was his prison time. He knew that secret would come out first with them sleeping in the same room. The nightmares were why he had solitary living quarters on the research campus. The staff thought he did it to be close to work in case something came up. He was happy to let them think so.

Camille laughed. “Tristan, are you even paying attention?”

He looked up and saw he was at yet another dead end. “Story of my life,” he muttered. Finally he rejoined Camille.

She brushed his waves off his sweaty brow. “Quid for you thoughts?”

“Quid?” He raised a brow.

“A joke in my family. We say quid instead of penny. I don’t remember which one of us came up with it anymore. Me, Connor, Clara.” She shrugged. “You seem distracted. Are you thinking about this morning? Anything I can do to help?” She pushed onto the toes of her sandals. “Or do you require a little more distraction?” She brushed her lips against his neck and lowered her sunglasses to look him in the eye.

Those aquamarine eyes. He could get lost in them. It would be so much easier than doing the right thing and pulling away. If he started their separation, kept them at bay from one another, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt so much at the end. Perhaps he could spare her a modicum of pain.

She touched his cheek. “Why do you stare at me so? What are you thinking?”

He cleared his throat. “We should get back for luncheon.”

“Tristan.”

He made the mistake of looking into her eyes again, and he saw it. She was falling for him. No, no, no. He had to stop this somehow, but the how completely eluded him. It was hard to deny that she could probably see the same in his eyes.

A staff member from the Royal tour approached them. “Monsieur et Madame Penrose, Lisette invites you to rejoin the group for luncheon.”

The moment broken, Tristan retook Camille's hand, and together they wandered out of the maze toward the front of the château to rejoin the group. Luncheon was served in a remote corner of the little café away from the rest of the tourists. They were seated and placed their orders. They shared their table with Mr. and Mrs. Kollman. Tristan breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't wish to be anywhere near Mrs. Chan. He knew Camille felt the same. As the Kollmans and Camille chatted about all of their favorite explorations of the day, Tristan ran the problem through his mind one more time. Two of Camille's greatest virtues, which he admired most, were her tenacity and veracity. When she set her sights on something, she went after it and wouldn’t quit until she achieved her goal. This quality he admired so much in her would be their downfall.

She’d obviously set her sights on him. It would take all his strength to fight her every step of the way when she was clearly ready to fight for them to be together. He had to spare them both pain when they separated in a few days.

“What did you like best about the garden?” Mrs. Kollman asked him.

Tristan set his thoughts aside and placed a smile on his face. “I liked the water features best. They're usually my favorite. I miss being away from the water.

“Oh?” Mr. Kollman asked, “Do you live near the water?”

“Yes,” Tristan answered. “I live near a bay in India.” He chatted a few more minutes with Mr. Kollman about his job.

The food arrived. He and Camille had both ordered the salade niçoise.

Tristan concentrated on his meal and let the other three carry the conversation.

Afterward, they boarded the bus again for the next stop, Fontainebleau. Camille fell asleep again on his shoulder, and he wondered how much strain his nightmares had put on her. How many nights did he keep her awake? His nightmares seemed to become progressively worse each night, though he didn’t usually remember them in the morning. He took the progression as a sign that their fake marriage was more stressful than he imagined. He thought it would be comforting to have a companion, to have a friend by his side to enjoy the absurdity of carrying on the ruse, like a great inside joke. He turned the problem of how to end things with Camille over and over again in his mind. No great ideas appeared. He was stumped. and he was grateful when the bus arrived at the next stop.

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