Page 20 of One Summer in Monte Carlo
Nanette had so far managed to avoid walking directly pastPole Position, but this morning, returning from taking the twins to school, she had no choice but to walk along that side of the embankment, as the other side had been blocked. Looking straight ahead, she walked quickly, not looking at the boats until she was certain she had leftPole Positionwell behind.
Mathieu had asked her to pick up some croissants for his breakfast on her way back. ‘Florence won’t be in this morning – dentist or something,’ Mathieu had said.
With a deep breath of relief, Nanette found a gap in the barriers being erected and quickly crossed the road to make her way into the small supermarket. Resisting the urge to buy herself a pomme de tart for her own breakfast, she paid and left holding the still warm croissants carefully.
Once back at the apartment, she switched on the coffee machine before laying a tray with cups and plates and the croissants.
‘Hi Mathieu. I’m back,’ she called. ‘Do you want your croissants and coffee on the balcony?’ The words died in her throat as a familiar figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.
‘The balcony sounds fine. Hello, Nanette.’
Nanette, frozen into a shocked stillness, stared as her former fiancé, Zac Ewart, walked purposefully into the kitchen and back into her life, as if he’d never left.
Dressed in his favoured black jeans and polo shirt, a suede jacket slung casually over his shoulders, sunglasses perched on top of his head, Zac regarded Nanette contemplatively, his eyes taking in everything about her appearance.
Seconds passed before Nanette managed a strangled, ‘Hello, Zac.’
‘That’s not much of a greeting for an old friend,’ and Zac moved forward to kiss her cheek.
‘Don’t you dare,’ Nanette said, between clenched teeth.
Zac stepped back, his hands in the air. ‘Sorry.’
‘How did you get in here anyway?’
‘Mathieu let me in – and then remembered he had an urgent appointment in Fontvieille.’ Zac gazed at her serenely. ‘So, we have the place to ourselves. We can catch up with all our news over breakfast.’ He picked up the breakfast tray. ‘I think we agreed on the balcony?’
Nanette, knowing there was no urgent appointment for Mathieu and determined to have words with him later, reluctantly followed Zac slowly out to the balcony. Every instinct told her this was a mistake and that she should either order him to leave or leave herself. But maybe she could finally get some answers to the questions she desperately wanted to ask him.
‘How are you?’ Zac asked, as he placed the tray on the table.
‘How am I? Why the hell do you care now? It’s been three years – three years, Zac – since the accident, without a word from you. Why the sudden interest?’ There was a fraction of a seconds pause before Zac answered her.
‘I was glad to hear you were back. I care about you – I’ve missed you.’
Nanette gazed at him in disbelief. ‘If you missed me that much, why didn’t you get in touch? Visit me in England?’ Nanette took a deep breath. ‘I thought you more than cared for me – I thought you loved me. We were engaged. Disappearing out of my life without even officially breaking off our engagement was cruel, Zac.’
Zac regarded her steadily. ‘I’m sorry, Nanette. It seemed the right thing to do at the time.’
‘Right for whom?’
‘Me. Selfish, I know, but there it is,’ and he shrugged his shoulders apologetically.
Nanette turned away and leant on the balcony rail, her senses in disarray. She’d spent so much time with this man, had thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, but their three years apart had turned him into a stranger, and she didn’t know what to say to him.
‘Coffee?’ Zac handed her a cup. ‘Has Mathieu told you about my party next week? The Monday after the Vintage Grand Prix. I hope you’re coming.’
Nanette shook her head, but before she could say anything, Zac continued.
‘I’d at least feel you were starting to forgive and forget the past, and my running out on you, if you’d come.’
‘I don’t know that I do forgive you,’ Nanette said sharply. ‘As for forgetting, well, my memory is still hazy about the actual accident, but I doubt that I’ll ever forget its consequences, or the hell of the last three years.’
Zac, Nanette noted, had the grace to look upset at her outburst.
‘You still don’t remember any details of the accident then?’ he asked, stirring his coffee, not looking at her.
‘No. Other than it was only the second time I’d driven the car,’ Nanette said.
