Magic (18 page)

“I refused to go with him. Don't forget that.”

“You had a right to do that, with three little kids to consider and a career of your own. He should have dropped it then and stayed here. Let me tell you, married to a woman as fabulous as you, I wouldn't let you out of my sight.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” she said sadly, “but I can't justify my questionable actions with his.”

“What have you done wrong? Have you lied to me? Slept with me? Cheated on him? No, you haven't.”

“I've cheated on him in my heart. He doesn't know what I'm doing. And I'm lying to him now. Sins of omission, remember those.”

“Oh, my God.” He laughed at her. “Sins of omission, impure thoughts, and lusting in your heart. I'm happy to hear it,” he said, sounding pleased. “At least I'm not the only one with impure thoughts. I'd be disappointed if I were.” She laughed at what he said, and he teased her for a few minutes and she relaxed. “Let's go to a movie this week and a pizza dinner and stop worrying about it. Destiny will decide. If we belong together, Valerie, we'll know it. And if not, he'll be the lucky winner, although I hope he's not.” Charles had never been in a situation like this either. He had taken her out to be collegial at first, and get to know her better for work. But little by little, as he discovered her, he had found a woman he admired, with honest values, and realized what he'd been missing all his life with the superficial women he went out with. He wasn't a man who accepted defeat easily. And now he wanted to win her away from Jean-Philippe. By being so honorable, she only made herself more appealing to him, and made him try harder to convince her to be with him. And the power of his arguments was heady stuff to Valerie. No man had ever courted her with such determination before. She didn't know if she was dazzled by him, infatuated, or falling for him. And he was harder and harder to resist.

Although she didn't plan it that way, Valerie had dinner with Charles the night before Jean-Philippe came home, and he kissed her passionately in the car when he dropped her off. He had restrained himself till then, and she was stunned, and hadn't resisted his advance, much to her own despair.

“I wanted to give you something to remember me by,” he whispered. “How long will he be here?” The way he said it made her feel like a woman being torn between two men.

“Two weeks,” she whispered back, and he kissed her again. And she responded just as fiercely.

“I'll be waiting for you. And call me when you can. I'll be worried about you.”

“You don't need to,” she said quietly. “I'll be fine, and I'll call you.” She tried to sound calm about it but looked longingly at him, and then let herself into the house. And with horror, she realized that she didn't want Jean-Philippe to come home. Not now. She didn't want to lose Charles, and she knew she would miss him, and she felt desperately guilty about it, and utterly confused about her feelings for him. He was the forbidden fruit she was desperately trying to resist. And for a moment, she was angry at Jean-Philippe for leaving her in this situation, unprotected and vulnerable to the advances of other men when he went to Beijing. But more than him, she blamed herself for being so drawn to Charles and allowing it to go this far. She knew she should never have gone out with him, and had slipped into it so innocently.

And all Charles wanted now was to win her.

W
hen Jean-Philippe came home, his children squealed with delight and threw themselves into his arms, and Valerie smiled at him from across the room, and then came quietly to put her arms around him. Seeing him there suddenly made him seem real again. He wasn't just an image on Skype, and as he looked at her, she remembered all the things she loved about him. For the past few weeks, Charles had pushed everything about him out of her head. He was so powerful, attractive, and convincing. And she felt confused all over again when she kissed Jean-Philippe. She knew she loved her husband, but if so, how could she be so attracted to another man? Her head was reeling when she and Jean-Philippe went to bed that night and he made love to her with all the longing of two months without her. And there were tears on her cheeks afterward that she couldn't explain, and didn't try to.

Jean-Philippe watched her closely for the next few days whenever they were together. He kept sensing something different about her, and oddly subdued. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, and he wondered if the strain of juggling everything herself, two jobs and three kids, was too much for her. But she didn't complain about it. She was unusually quiet, and yet she was very loving. He tried to explain it to Chantal when he had lunch with her, and she had told him all about Xavier, and how well they got along. She was still obsessed with the idea of his running off with a younger woman one day, but she seemed divinely happy, and said she was. She was thriving, and he had never seen her look so well.

“For heaven's sake,” Chantal said in response to what he told her about Valerie, “the poor woman is probably exhausted. You run off to China, leave her with three kids. She works like a slave at
Vogue,
which is a stress factory for any normal person, and now she has a huge consulting job on top of it. What do you expect? I'd be subdued dealing with all that, and you're not here to help her. She's totally on her own. I keep meaning to call her. But I've been busy, working on two projects, and spending time with Xavier. Eric had the accident, and I've been back and forth to Berlin to see him. I promise I'll call her this time when you leave.” Chantal wasn't worried about Valerie. She and Jean-Philippe adored each other. That couldn't have changed in two months.

“I know this sounds ridiculous, but do you suppose she's having an affair?” Jean-Philippe insisted. Something was gnawing at him. Valerie was not the same.

“Don't be ridiculous. When would she have time? You said yourself, she doesn't even have a nanny on weekends. Who's she going to have an affair with? Your pediatrician?” But they both knew that odd things happened, and the people you never expected to leave their spouses often did. But she just couldn't see Valerie doing that to Jean-Philippe. They were crazy about each other, and had been since the day they met, although Chantal knew they'd had a rough patch about the decision to move to Beijing. But she couldn't imagine Valerie having an affair, she was totally devoted to Jean-Philippe.

“She meets a lot of interesting people at
Vogue.
Writers, photographers, designers.”

“Most of the designers are gay, so you can rule them out.” Chantal was trying to jolly him out of it, but not succeeding. He was on a witch hunt.

“Her new consulting job is a big deal,” he said. “The guys who own that company are hot stuff in the financial world, and now they're investing in fashion because there's real money in it. They're money guys, and they're not gay.”

“Who are they?” Chantal asked with interest.

“Serge Sevigny and Charles de Beaumont. I know Sevigny, and he's kind of a jerk, and very full of himself. I've never met Beaumont, but I've heard a lot about him. He made some big money deals in China, invested in all the right things, and made a killing.”

“I know who he is,” Chantal acknowledged. “I think he went out with the daughter of a friend of mine. He's a good-looking guy, if he's the one I'm thinking of, but he's given to pretty young things from fancy families, debutantes, not married women with three children. I think he's kind of a playboy.”

“My wife is pretty and young, and maybe he's grown up,” Jean-Philippe said, looking panicked.

“Valerie is too much trouble for guys like that. She's married to you, and you're stiff competition for any guy. She has kids, she's married, she has a demanding job. She's not exactly free to romp and play. And now she's a single parent to your kids with no help on the weekends. She's hardly a candidate for a hot romance, unless the guy wants to babysit your kids on the weekend. And I don't know a guy alive who would do that if he wanted to have an affair. They want a woman who is accessible and has free time. Valerie must be drowning without you now.” She made him feel guilty when she said it, and he knew it was true. He had left her with a tremendous burden when he took the job in Beijing. Maybe too much so. “Maybe she's tired, or depressed. She can't be having a great time these days without you. Maybe you need to do some fun things with her while you're here, and not just spend time with your kids. Put some of the romance back in your life. It sounds like she needs that.”

“You're probably right. Maybe it was selfish of me to take the job there.”

“Is it working out?” she asked, concerned. He looked tired and thinner, but his eyes were alive.

“The deals we're doing are fascinating. And the money's there, for all of us. But I hate the place. It's not a city where I'd want to spend the rest of my life.”

“You're only planning to spend a year, right?”

“Or two or three. I haven't told Valerie yet, but now I can see why they wanted me to commit for three years. You almost have to, to get anything major done.”

“Maybe you need to be careful of that,” Chantal said cautiously. “Don't push her too far. Her life can't be easy right now, and she may get tired of being a part-time wife.”

And that night, following Chantal's advice, he took Valerie to dinner at the Voltaire. She hesitated when he suggested it, and then she agreed. He knew it was one of her favorites, and went there with editors all the time, so he was surprised she wasn't more enthusiastic about it.

They were halfway through dinner, when a man walked in with a young woman, and Jean-Philippe saw Valerie stiffen, as she and the man glanced at each other and their eyes met and then he walked by to the corner booth. Something strange had passed between them that Jean-Philippe had sensed, and he asked her in an undertone who the man was.

“He's the style director and one of the partners at Beaumont-Sevigny where I consult. Charles de Beaumont,” she said almost too nonchalantly. And Jean-Philippe had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he took another look at the man in the corner booth. He was with a very attractive young woman, but he was watching Valerie, and his eyes were hard when he looked at Jean-Philippe. Jean-Philippe could sense a predator on the loose and a major threat.

“Why didn't he say hello to you?” Jean-Philippe asked her. She was picking at the food on her plate.

“I don't know. I don't know him socially, and he looks like he's on a date.” She made a point of not looking at his table, and didn't order dessert, and Jean-Philippe wasn't sure if he'd imagined it, but she seemed anxious to leave.

He paid the check and they drove home after dinner, and she was quiet in the car. He heard her get a text message, but she didn't look at it until they were home, which was odd for her. He saw that she didn't answer it, she just turned off her phone. The text was from Charles. “I wanted to kidnap you when I saw you.” She responded and just told him she missed him, and erased the message. Jean-Philippe would have felt like a fool asking her who the text was from, she got so many of them. So he didn't, but he sensed something odd about her behavior. As they were getting ready for bed, he couldn't help wondering if there was something going on between her and Charles de Beaumont. Jean-Philippe was unnerved by how handsome he was, but Valerie didn't seem impressed. Maybe he was crazy, or paranoid because he had left her alone. But he realized now more than ever that this was not going to be easy if he stayed in Beijing for a year, and worse if he signed on for a second year, which he was beginning to realize he would have to do.

It took them about a week to get used to each other again, and feel at ease. He could feel Valerie start to relax with him by the second week, and by then he was leaving. Even two weeks were not enough to restore the damage from his absence. They had celebrated Thanksgiving with their children, which was a tradition she wanted to share with them, although they were French, but it still meant something to her.

Jean-Philippe noticed that she seemed profoundly sad before he left. He reported it to Chantal at lunch the day before he was going back to Beijing.

“I think she's depressed. And I saw Beaumont by the way, at Le Voltaire. He's a very attractive guy, but Valerie didn't seem to react. But I think my being away is taking a hell of a toll on us. It took her nearly two weeks to warm up and seem at ease with me, and now I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't know if this is going to work.” He looked heartbroken as he said it. Maybe he had asked too much of her. He no longer thought she was cheating on him, but he was beginning to wonder if they would grow so far apart that they'd get divorced. He had never thought that could happen to them. Now he wasn't so sure.

“That was always the risk,” Chantal reminded him. “You knew it when you left. And you did it anyway. Men are stupid sometimes. When are you coming back?”

“Not quite four weeks. I land on Christmas Eve.”

“That's cutting it a little close,” she said sternly.

“I'll be here for two weeks. And then I'll be back again at the end of February, beginning of March.”

“Just pray that your kids keep her busy, and no handsome guy like Charles de Beaumont crosses her path.” He still looked worried at the end of lunch when he kissed Chantal on the cheek, and they left the restaurant.

He and Valerie spent a quiet last night together, talking in bed. She seemed like her old self again, although he found her quiet and sad at the prospect of his leaving. But this time he'd be home in less than a month, and they'd have Christmas with the children. She'd have to put up the tree and have done all the decorating alone before he got home, since he was coming home so late.

“Valerie, is this too much for us?” he asked her honestly before they turned out the light. “Are we going to survive this?” He was beginning to have doubts. Maybe Chantal was right, and he had been a fool to take the risk. She was a beautiful woman, and any man would want her. And he knew that it would kill him if she gave up on him and their marriage.

“I don't know,” she said, looking him in the eye. “I hope so. I guess we just have to wait and see.” It was the most honest she had been with him. She was making him no promises for the future, which was a terrifying prospect, especially the night before he was leaving.

“I don't want to lose you,” he said miserably.

“I don't want to lose you either, or myself. This is harder than I thought it would be.” He nodded, hearing what she was saying, and wondering what he should do about it.

“I thought you were having an affair when I came home. You were so distant and removed from me at first. But now I realize you're not.”

“No, I'm not,” she confirmed to him, and he was relieved.

“I hope you never will,” he said fervently, looking up at her, and there was something sad in her eyes.

“So do I,” she said softly. It wasn't a promise. It was a hope. It was the best she could do for now, and he had to content himself with that.

Before he left early the next morning, he kissed the children in their beds, and went to kiss his wife. She clung to him for a long moment as he held her tight against him, wishing he wasn't leaving again.

“I'll be home in a few weeks,” he reminded her, and she nodded and kissed him again, and then he hurried down the stairs with his bag, to the cab waiting to take him to the airport to go back to Beijing.

She sent a text to Charles as soon as he left, and asked him to meet her for lunch. She was seeing him at the office the following week for their next presentation, but she didn't want to wait till then. Other than the night they had run into him at Le Voltaire, she hadn't seen him in two weeks, and she had missed him even more than she'd thought she would, and more than she wanted to.

They met at a quiet bistro near his office, and she was wearing a red coat and black boots when she walked in, and she looked incredibly chic. His face lit up as soon as he saw her. He was wearing an exquisitely cut tweed suit and brown suede shoes and was as fashionable as she was. And he kissed her fervently the moment she walked in. She didn't resist.

“Oh, my God, those were the longest two weeks of my life,” Charles said, looking her over and drinking her in as she smiled at him. “How was it?” She had only called him once, and texted him a few times about work. It was too awkward trying to contact him while Jean-Philippe was there, and she wanted to give him the respect she felt she owed him as her husband. Calling Charles while he was in town didn't seem fair.

“It was fine,” she said quietly in answer to his question. “It wasn't easy. It was strange having him back again, like I'm not used to him anymore, I'm used to being by myself now. And by the time we adjusted to it, he had to leave. He told me last night that at first he thought I was having an affair. And he wanted to know all about you when we saw you at Le Voltaire. I think he had a sixth sense about us, which he decided to ignore.” She was relieved he had.

“I had an overwhelming urge to grab you away from him that night and run out the door.” She smiled at what he said and would have liked it too. Charles was a much more exciting person, but Jean-Philippe was her husband, and she remembered that now. His two weeks in Paris had driven that point home, and reminded her of what their marriage meant to her. She didn't want to lose that, even if it was a hard time now.