Page 83 of You Were Always the One

Sophie raises an eyebrow. ‘An old lover, you mean?’

‘Yes.’ But the truth is, Holly is so much more than that. ‘We were together years ago. I always thought we had something really special. But I screwed up. She ended up married to someone else.’

‘So if she is with someone, you are free.’ Sophie’s eyes twinkle. But then she frowns. ‘Do you still love this woman?’

‘I thought I didn’t, but I do,’ I say. ‘She can’t leave her husband, though. He is sick. Really sick.’

‘That is sad for her. And you are alone,’ she says gently. ‘Riggs, you and I do not have to fall madly in love. We can be different.’

‘I’m not sure,’ I say cautiously.

She reaches her arms around my neck again. ‘You’re funny, Riggs. I like you.’

Then a part of my mind is off on a tangent, because in so many ways, this is like a proper love story, I can’t help thinking. Meeting a beautiful French girl who knows me and actually wants to be with me. The only problem being, I’m in love with someone else. I blink at her. ‘What are you suggesting?’

She frowns slightly. ‘You really don’t see what I am saying?’

‘Sorry. I told you I can be frustrating,’ I say.

‘Riggs. Be quiet.’ She reaches up and kisses me again.

So begins one of the most extraordinary chapters of my life. Not just because Sophie is beautiful and smart. But because she actually likes me, seemingly for who I am.

‘I think all relationships are destined to go wrong, unless they are the right one,’ she says. ‘You and Emma, it does not sound like you were right for each other.’

‘We weren’t,’ I say. ‘Getting married was a mistake.’

‘It will be fine,’ Sophie says almost dismissively. ‘Your baby will be lucky. It will have two families. That is good, n’est ce pas?’

‘I haven’t thought of it like that,’ I say slowly. But I am slower than most people at challenging the way I think about things.

Quite quickly, I hear back from Christie. ‘OK. I’ve read it through again, and I do really like this book,’ she says. ‘A lot, actually. I have a few suggestions, which I’m emailing through now. But I think part of its charm is the ineptitude of Monty. I just want to say, don’t change that too much.’

Ineptitude? Is that how Monty comes across? ‘I like to think of him more as a little naïve,’ I say. ‘And lost, too. Definitely lost.’

‘The inept part of him is funny, Riggs. Don’t lose that,’ she warns before the call ends, leaving me wondering if that’s how she really sees me, as well as if that’s what I’ve signed up to.

‘You have been working,’ Sophie says when she comes around that evening. ‘That is good. At least, I am guessing it is.’

I’m about to say I think so, or something equally noncommittal. But I stop myself. ‘I’ve been editing. And it is good,’ I say with absolute certainty. I mean, only a few months ago, I didn’t even have a fully formed idea of what this book was. And now I have a complete novel.

‘I am proud of you,’ she says. Then she produces a basket of food. ‘Now I will cook for you.’

It’s the loveliest existence, one I still can’t quite believe, especially when I get an acceptance payment for my novel. I have Sophie, and this life I’m building in this peaceful part of rural France. What could possibly go wrong?

But my reverie, such as it is, is interrupted by one of fate’s curveballs – in the middle of the night, no less. When my phone rings, I stir from a deep sleep.

‘Rigby? Sorry to call in the middle of the night. But Emma’s having pains.’

Suddenly I’m wide awake. ‘What kind of pains?’

‘She wants to speak to you.’ There’s a pause as Archie hands the phone to her.

‘Cramps, Rigby. I think I’m in labour.’ Emma sounds petrified. ‘Archie’s here. He’s taking me to…’ She breaks off, crying out in pain.

‘Rigby?’ This time, it’s Archie. ‘I think the baby’s coming.’

‘It can’t be.’ It isn’t possible. ‘It isn’t due for another month.’