a lot and she was terrific and like a mother to me. But she’s not my mother, she’s my aunt.”
“We’ll explain it to him later on.” Jean-Louis smiled at her as he lit a Gitane. “Francoise isn’t ready to give up her career. And she can only do what she’s doing, at this level, for a few more years. It would be a shame for her to stop now. And I can’t. I’m sure he’ll understand,” Jean-Louis said confidently. Liz wasn’t so sure how he’d feel later about parents who hadn’t been willing to make the necessary adjustments for him and thought only of themselves. In some ways she thought they treated him like a toy. She was still grateful for the sacrifices Annie had made, which she was even more aware of now. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like if she had been raising three children now, of the ages she and her siblings had been when Annie got them at twenty-six. Liz didn’t think herself capable of it, now or at any age, which made her admire Annie even more for all she’d done.
“I couldn’t do it either,” Liz said fairly, “but I wouldn’t have a kid. I don’t want to screw up someone else’s life.”
“We’re not,” Jean-Louis assured her, blind to what they weren’t doing for the boy. And with that Damien walked into the room. The movie had finished, and he was hungry. Jean-Louis put some cheese and pate on a plate for him, and opened a box of the
Lizzie played cards with Damien for a little while, and with his new train again, and then Jean-Louis put on another DVD. And eventually the irresistible little boy with the big green eyes and red hair fell asleep on his father’s bed, and Jean-Louis scooped him up and put him on the narrow bed he had set up for him in a tiny room, where he stayed when he was here. They were taking him back to Francoise the next day.
Liz and Jean-Louis spent a quiet evening talking and drinking wine after Damien fell asleep. They talked mostly about fashion, and the editors and photographers they knew, the politics at various magazines, particularly hers, and their careers. They were comfortable and compatible, had the same interests, knew many of the same people, and worked in the same milieu. It was an ideal situation for both of them. And a perfect way to spend New Year’s Day. She cuddled up next to him when they went to bed that night. She didn’t want more than this, and she liked staying with him in the funny little attic apartment in Paris, and the loft in New York. They didn’t make love that night because Lizzie didn’t want Damien to walk in on them, and there was only one bathroom in the apartment, although Jean-Louis assured her he wouldn’t hear anything and never woke up during the night, but she didn’t want to risk it and traumatize him. She felt responsible for him while she was there.
They all woke up at the same time the next morning, and Damien appeared in their bedroom doorway in the same clothes he’d worn the day before. Jean-Louis hadn’t wanted to wake him by trying to take them off, and he hopped onto the bed with them and asked what they were doing that day. Jean-Louis said they were taking him back to his mother after breakfast, because he and Lizzie had to get ready for work the following morning, and they had a lot to prepare.
“My grandma is coming tonight,” Damien said happily. “Maman is going to London tomorrow, to work. She’ll be gone for five days.” He already knew the plan and seemed happy that his grandmother was coming. “We have ice cream every day when my grandma is here,” he explained to Liz, and her heart went out to him. Ice cream didn’t seem like enough to make up for parents who were so seldom there, and so self-involved when they were. She hoped that his grandmother made it up to him as best she could.
Liz made toast with jam for all of them and boiled an egg for Damien, while Jean-Louis made cafe au lait and gave some to the boy too. He served it in bowls, the way they did in the old cafes. It was delicious, and Damien had a milk mustache from the fragrant brew. Liz drank all of hers.
They were back at Francoise’s Moroccan lair on the rue Jacob by eleven, and Damien was happy to see his mother, although he looked wistful as he said goodbye to his father. Jean-Louis explained that he would be in Paris for two weeks, and he planned to see his son again soon, and Damien looked happy about it. It was obvious that he loved his father.
There was a man at the apartment when they got there, and he looked very young to Lizzie, no more than nineteen. And she recognized him after a few minutes. He was a young British model
“Are you jealous of him?” she asked as they walked away from Francoise’s building.
“Of course not. Who she sleeps with is none of my business.” He didn’t know that for sure, but Matthew had been lying on the couch bare chested, in jeans with bare feet, and looked like he had just gotten out of the shower when they arrived. “I just think it’s a little foolish to have people come and go in Damien’s life, who aren’t important to her.”
“How do you know he isn’t?” Lizzie asked with interest. He definitely sounded jealous to her. Francoise had been more gracious to Liz than Jean-Louis had been to the young male model. He’d barely spoken to him, and Francoise had thanked her for taking care of Damien and been warmer at their second meeting than the first.
“He’s not her type,” Jean-Louis answered somewhat tersely, and changed the subject. But Liz could see that he was annoyed for a while. He finally relaxed when they went back to his apartment. They both had calls to make for the shoots they were doing the next morning, and Liz was sorry they wouldn’t be working together. Hers was a big jewelry story that she had been setting up for months, and he was shooting the cover for the April issue of French
They went downstairs to a nearby bistro for soup and a salad at dinnertime, and when they went back to his place afterward, they made love. His irritation over Francoise and the British model seemed to have dissipated again, and Lizzie realized that he was just being territorial. No one liked to be faced with their ex-lover’s current significant other, no matter how over it was. And she realized that their openness with each other, mostly because of Damien, was very French. But in any case Jean-Louis was in good spirits again when they went to bed that night, and they both fell asleep with their arms around each other. Jean-Louis had set the alarm for five A.M. They both had to be on their sets by six. And as she fell asleep, Liz found herself thinking about Damien. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Her heart ached at the life he led. He deserved so much more than he was getting. It almost made her wish that she and Jean-Louis would be together for a long time. And who knew, maybe they would. So far their days in Paris had been perfect.
Chapter 11
Liz was one of those meticulous editors who tried to anticipate every possible problem in advance. She hated surprises, particularly bad ones, and did everything to avoid them. But in spite of all her careful preparation, she had a dozen knotty problems to deal with on the set the next day. They were shooting outdoors on the Place Vendome, and the first thing that went wrong was that it started to rain. They placed a huge tent over the models and filtered in artificial sunlight. It took them longer to set up, but it was manageable. They had set up heaters against the freezing cold. But one of the models said she was getting sick anyway and didn’t want to work.