Lucinda had appeared in the doorway of the living room. “The apartment’s lovely but not the right fit for me,” she’d said. “The feng shui is all wrong.”
Aaron and Carla had shared a knowing glance and he’d handed her his business card. “My mission is to find the right place for the right person,” he’d told her. “Let’s find something with better vibes for your gran.”
“So, you’re a matchmaker?” Carla had asked, pocketing his card.
He’d laughed and his blue eyes crinkled. “Yeah, I suppose you can call it that. Now I’d better go to see my mum.”
Lucinda had decided to stay in her bungalow after all, because new properties had less space for all her clothes and trinkets, but Aaron and Carla started to see each other anyway. He’d showed her around new developments with solar panels and penthouse views, though Carla struggled to imagine living somewhere so swanky. They’d visited Edinburgh, Cardiff and London to view properties, and taken airplanes at a moment’s notice to visit his overseas clients.
When Carla had first dined in fine restaurants with Aaron, she hadn’t been sure which cutlery to use when presented with a plethora of knives and forks. She’d been uncomfortable at first, too conscious of her lack of qualifications when they’d dined with CEOs, business proprietors and other property developers. But she did have a good knowledge and experience of several European countries, and possessed a natural air compared to Aaron’s more corporate presence. Over a short time, Carla had become surer of herself, dressing smarter and feeling more at ease with his clients. Aaron was also attentive and encouraging, which made her feel interesting.
Any disagreements between them usually started off small, like whether tomatoes should be sliced or quartered (Carla thought they should be sliced because they sat in a sandwich better), or if it was rude to eat in the street (Carla said it was, whereas Aaron claimed it wasn’t). They were very different people, so friction seemed inevitable.
Aaron was a shouter and a slammer of doors, whereas Carla was a sulker, using silence to show she was upset.
After their arguments, they would passionately make up.
“Marry me,” Aaron had said, propping himself up on one elbow in bed, following a disagreement about whether grapes should be kept in the fridge or not (Carla thought they were better served cold). And although she knew it was foolhardy and that she was acting without thinking, she’d said yes.
They’d flown to Paris for their honeymoon, where they’d made love before breakfast, after dinner, anytime really. For the rest of their time, they’d explored the city together, visiting so many beautiful parks and art galleries that the sights had become a blur, though Carla had particularly loved the soft watercolors of Monet’s waterlilies and the Mona Lisa’s steely gaze. After their showy wedding, their anonymity in the city had felt intimate and intense. She and Aaron held hands everywhere and even skipped together. Their hunger for each other soaked into Carla’s skin, her entire body, because she loved him so much.
She’d really loved him.
Aaron always said his ambition was to have an office in Paris with a view of the Eiffel Tower and he’d asked about hers. Carla’s gap-year travels were still bright in her mind—not just the places she’d visited and the sights she’d seen, but also the people. She was in her midtwenties and didn’t feel like a fully formed person yet. “I don’t really have any,” she’d admitted.
“Don’t worry,” Aaron had said. “One day you’ll find your inspiration somewhere.”
Carla just hadn’t expected it to come from their devastating divorce.
And now she stood outside her ex-husband’s Parisian office, staring at his name on a brass plaque next to the smoked-glass revolving doors.
A bout of dizziness made her feel lightheaded and she held a hand to her chest. If Tom hadn’t told her he wasn’t interested in children, would she have come here at all?
She took a deep breath, held it in her lungs and pushed the glass door.
Inside the building, the lobby had a cool glamour, all white marble, fresh flowers and impossibly attractive people sweeping around. The men looked like they should appear in aftershave commercials, and the women all sported vermilion lipstick. The lady behind the reception desk had shiny hair pulled into a ponytail and she stared haughtily at Carla’s curly copper mop.
After introducing herself and confirming she definitely did have a meeting with Aaron Frame, Carla sat down and positioned her backpack between her feet. Her palms were sweaty and she felt more like the young traveler she’d once been, not the divorced, pregnant fortysomething woman she now was.
She waited for what seemed like ages but was actually only ten minutes. Each time she heard footsteps, she sat up straighter, preparing to greet her ex-husband.
Carla’s ears pricked up when she heard chatter coming from the top of a staircase and watched as a pair of brown handmade shoes descended, followed by a body and face that she knew all too well. She was aware of a vein pulsing in her neck and the sound of her own breath growing sharper.
And then there he was in front of her, with his tousled blond hair and matching stubble, wearing the smile that had always made her melt.
Aaron.
Carla stood up, her arms hanging by her sides, lost in a mist of memories and emotions that made her brain whirl.
“Carla,” Aaron said, sweeping forward and taking her into his arms, as if they were still married and had been apart for twelve weeks rather than twelve years. “You look absolutely stunning. I’m so glad you’re here.”
He insisted on giving Carla a tour of the building and, at first, she thought he was showing off how well he’d done for himself since their divorce. She soon realized he was actually seeking her approval. Each time he pointed out his desk, or a world map marking his other offices, or a shelf full of awards, Aaron glanced at her to examine her expression before he carried on.
Carla was deeply impressed by her ex’s achievements, though didn’t want to show it. “I can’t see the Eiffel Tower from any of the windows,” she remarked.
Aaron stopped still in the middle of an office. “You remembered my dream,” he said, and for a moment his eyes appeared glassy. He held out an arm and ushered her toward a tiny corner window. “There.” He pointed. “If you stand on your tiptoes, or on a box, you can see the top of the tower. We might have to climb onto the roof for a better view.”
She’d forgotten about his ability to laugh at himself and how this made him even more attractive. “Oh yes, I can just about see it now. Impressive.”
“I like to think so.”
Carla’s stomach rumbled, perhaps from hunger. Or maybe it was the baby warning her not to get wrapped up in her ex-husband again.
“You sound hungry,” Aaron observed, glancing at his Rolex. “Would you like to go grab something to eat? There’s a coffee shop next door. I’m afraid I have another meeting lined up, or else I’d join you.”
She pointed at her backpack. “I should check into my hotel first. I picked up a sandwich at the airport.”
“Where are you staying?”
She showed him on her phone.
Aaron sucked through his teeth. “That’s not a great area. I’ve got access to several empty properties. I’m sure I can find you somewhere much nicer...”
Carla waved his offer away, determined not to accept his help. “I bet I’ve stayed in worse places. It will be fine.” She was certain Aaron would protest and insist that he knew better, just like he used to do. But instead he pressed his lips together.
“In that case, let me take you to dinner this evening,” he said.
Twenty-Six
