He felt astonishingly close to her as he walked her back to her building farther up Avenue Montaigne. It had gotten colder and there were snowflakes in the air, which caught on her lashes as they stood outside her address.
“Thank you for the painting.” She smiled at him. “And lunch.” She knew it was a special moment, for both of them. She and Theo had had some kind of connection from the first time they met. It was as though they had known each other for years. She didn’t understand it. She could see it in his portrait of her, he knew her intimately, and she felt the same way about him. It had been just a chance meeting, but a nice one. And she felt a little sad, leaving him, knowing they wouldn’t meet again. She couldn’t. Vladimir wouldn’t like it if they became friends. That didn’t fit into her life, and Theo knew it.
“Thank you for having lunch with me, and answering my questions. I kept wondering about you, while I was doing the portrait.” And he didn’t say it to her, but now that he knew her better, he wanted to do another one, to capture a whole different side of her. She was a many-faceted woman, both wise and na?ve, frightened and brave, and poignantly human. He wrote his phone number down on a piece of paper for her then, and handed it to her. “If you ever need me, or need a friend, or need help, or you just want to talk, call me. I’ll be there.” And she suspected he would. He seemed like a man you could trust and rely on.
“Don’t worry about me.” She smiled at him again. “I’m safe.” She leaned toward him then and kissed him on the cheek and he held her for an instant, hoping that she was right and what she said was true, that she was safe. But how could she be with a man known to be ruthless, who had dangerous connections like Vladimir’s? Theo found it hard to believe. Maybe she knew him better. But Theo wasn’t sure.
She waved as she walked into the building, and used the code to let herself into the inner door, and then disappeared, and Theo walked back to his hotel on the Left Bank, lost in thought. He knew he wouldn’t see her again, except by coincidence somewhere, and the time they had just spent together was a once-in-a-lifetime gift.
It was nearly five when he reached the hotel. They had sat at the table at L’Avenue for hours, and he took his time walking back to where he was staying when he left her, to digest what she had said. And as he let himself into his hotel room, he saw Inez packing her suitcase and looking enraged. Her eyes were blazing, and he realized he had never turned his phone back on after lunch, and had forgotten his promise to call her at lunchtime. He felt like a complete jerk, but once he had been with Natasha, everything else had gone out of his head.
“Where the hell were you, or should I guess? And why was your phone turned off?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I forgot to turn it back on after lunch. I had lunch with Jean, and we got engrossed in a conversation about the art world. I’m really sorry, I lost track of the time.”
“I called him four times and you left him at noon,” she said, looking irate. “Were you with the Russian girl in the portrait?” He thought of lying to her again and decided not to. There was no point.
“I took it to her. She should have it.”
“And you stayed to go to bed with her?” she asked in a shaking voice as she closed her suitcase.
“No, we had lunch, and talked. That’s when I turned off my phone, and I forgot that I’d promised to call you.” In fact, he had stood Inez up for lunch, and he felt like a total heel, and didn’t blame her for being angry.
“You’re in love with her, Theo. I saw how you looked at her last night. And I don’t care who she belongs to, or what Russian gangster is paying her bills. You’re in love with her, regardless of how she feels about you. And for all I know, she’s in love with you too.”
“She isn’t,” he assured her. “She seems happy where she is.”
“This is what I mean by drama. I don’t need this in my life. I have a child, a job, I’m trying to make it all work. I don’t need some guy who’s in love with another woman, even one you can’t have.”
“She’s given up all her freedom to be with him. We were talking about it.” Inez looked even more furious as he said it.
“Oh, please, don’t ask me to feel sorry for her. She’s doing exactly what she wants. My heart is not bleeding for her. It’s all about the money for women like that. There’s nothing noble about it.”
“Maybe not, but it’s more complicated than you think.”
“I don’t care. Everyone’s life is complicated. And I don’t need you complicating mine more than it already is, while you chase some fantasy woman around, and paint portraits of a woman you can’t have. I don’t want to be part of your fantasy life. And if she turns out to be more than a fantasy, I’m not sticking around.” She set her suitcase down on the floor then, and he looked worried, but not surprised.
“Where are you going?”
“To stay with my sister for a few days, and then I’m going home.”
“Am I going to see you again?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know. I need some time to think about it. This is exactly what I told you I didn’t want. I think you’re in love with this girl. And I can’t fight your illusions about her, and don’t want to. My life is too real for that.” And with that, she opened the door and walked out with her suitcase, and he didn’t stop her. He knew he had no right to. And she was right. He could feel his obsession for Natasha fully alive again. She did that to him every time, and he didn’t want to screw up Inez’s life, or his own. He had to stay sane this time, and not let Natasha take over his life. He had a lot to think about.
He went for a walk in St. Germain after Inez left. It was freezing cold and snowing. All he could think about was Natasha and what she’d said to him over lunch about her relationship with Vladimir, and her past. He understood it all better now. And he doubted he’d ever see her again. He had lost two women that day, Natasha and Inez, and had never really had either one.
—
And in her bed on Avenue Montaigne, Natasha was staring at the portrait, and thinking of the artist who had painted it. And she wondered what Vladimir would say when he saw it. He would see it the moment he walked into their bedroom. She wasn’t going to keep it a secret from him. It was too beautiful to hide. The only thing she wasn’t going to tell him was about lunch. He didn’t need to know that. She had put the slip of paper with Theo’s number on it in her wallet. She couldn’t imagine ever calling him, but it was good to have. And he was her only friend.
Chapter 9
When Vladimir came home from Moscow the night before they left for Courchevel, the portrait of her was the first thing he saw when he walked into their Paris bedroom.
“What’s that?” he asked, looking startled and stopping to stare at it.
“A portrait of me.” She smiled at him. She was happy to see him as she put her arms around him and he held her close. He had missed her while he was gone.