Page 92 of Never Too Late
‘So, you hired someone? A financial assistant?’
‘It’s getting cooler. Shall we walk on? Are you warm enough?’
‘I am, thank you.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I promise. Come.’ I gave a gentle tug. ‘Which direction?’ I looked left and right.
‘Would you be free for dinner?’
‘I would.’
‘I’d like to cook for you, if you’ll let me.’
I knew from years past that Tomas had always been a dab hand in the kitchen. Much to his parents’ dismay, he’d always been more interested in chatting to the chefs than he was in turning up for board meetings. That really should have been one of the many clues they missed – or rather chose to ignore.
‘You don’t have to do that, Tomas. We can get something on the way.’
He shook his head. ‘I’d like to,’ he repeated. ‘I’m afraid it won’t be anything fancy. As much as I’d like to appear sophisticated, not to mention organised, I didn’t plan for this but I… I don’t want our time together to end yet.’
‘You always did do a mean omelette.’
His face broke into a boyish smile, innocent joy. ‘You remember?’
‘I do. You ruined me for omelettes entirely.’
The innocence turned mischievous. ‘Good.’
‘You’d better have eggs.’
‘I always have eggs.’
‘Good. So.’ I followed as he turned, presumably towards his own apartment. ‘What happened when the financial assistant arrived?’
‘He was a financial director so the first thing that happened was that I gave him a lot of money to come in the first place. But I thought it was an investment in the business.’
‘From your tone, I’m guessing that wasn’t the case.’
He pushed a hand back through his hair. ‘I must have had a sign on my back that read “Gullible Idiot”. A few months in and we were at risk of losing everything. It was then that I, by chance, met Christophe at a conference. Gabby had come with me. She’d not long split from her husband and moved back to Paris. I think the trip was partly something to take her mind off the divorce, but I know she was worried about me.’ He glanced across at me as we walked. ‘I think my little sister felt the need to keep an eye on her big brother.’
A chill that had nothing to do with the cool night air ran through my bones.
‘And did she have a reason to?’ The words croaked out and I cleared my throat.
Tomas stopped. A small puddle of light from a streetlamp illuminated the side of his face, the sharp plane of his cheekbone highlighted. He turned and I saw the gentle expression in his eyes.
‘Not in the way you are thinking.’ His voice was soft as his cool hand touched my now hot face as thoughts of what he had been going through, what might have been perhaps, if not for his sister, raced through my mind. ‘Not in the way you are worrying about. I am here, now, as you see me.’
I pulled my top lip in with my teeth and nodded.
‘Yes.’ I touched his hand with my own briefly before he tucked it back through his arm and we returned to our walk, turning down a cobbled street.
‘I was depressed, there is no doubt of that. But I think she was more worried that I might have another “brilliant idea” at this conference.’
‘I see,’ I said, part of me feeling relieved but the other part still lingering on the admittance that Tomas had suffered depression as a result of being pushed into doing something he never wanted to.
‘We were lucky in that we fell into conversation with Christophe, who had recently launched his own vineyard and was going,’ his eyes caught mine briefly, ‘gangbusters with it.’
