I took a seat on a chair, the desire to stay in the background winning out over my desire to hold Laurent’s hand as a source of comfort.
“A lot of things have changed for me since I got out of rehab,” Craig said. He crossed his arms and then uncrossed them, smoothing his palms over his jean-clad thighs. “And all of themfor the better.” He looked my way. “It’s a debt to your brother that I’ll never be able to repay.”
“You repay it by staying sober,” I offered. “We don’t want anything more than that.”
Craig nodded. “I can’t promise I will, but I promise I’ll try.” He lapsed into silence.
“Are you ill?” Laurent prompted. “Is that what you’re struggling to tell me?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Craig cleared his throat, his expression pained. “There’s a woman who comes in every morning at the bakery for her bread. On a weekend, she has pastries as well.”
I got where he was going with this. It took Laurent longer.
“Right,” he said, frowning. “Has she been giving you problems?”
“Is she nice?” I asked before Craig could offer a response to that. “Is she pretty?”
“She is,” Craig admitted. “Very. She’s a few years younger than I am.”
“Family habit,” I offered with a smirk.
“Oh.” Laurent said, finally getting it. “You and her?”
Craig nodded. “We’ve been on a few dates and we’ve discovered we rub along well together. She’s a widow as well, so she gets it. I’m not expecting your blessing, but I didn’t want to keep you in the dark about it and have you find out from someone else.” He sat back, his body language screaming relief at having at least gotten the words out.
“Why not?” Laurent asked. “Why wouldn’t I give you my blessing?”
“Your mother?”
“My mother has been gone for a few years.” Laurent sat forward with a look of intensity on his face. “And she, more thananyone, wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the rest of your life alone. This… relationship… Is it serious?”
Color bled into Craig’s cheeks. “I think so. I hope so.”
“Does she know about the drink problem?” Laurent asked.
Craig nodded. “She does. I told her on our first date when she questioned why I didn’t have any of the wine. She immediately sent it back and vowed not to drink in my presence. And she’s stuck to that.”
Laurent nodded. “She sounds like a good woman.”
“She is. You could meet her, if you wanted to? No pressure.”
Laurent contemplated it for a moment, Craig barely seeming to breathe while he waited. “I’d like that,” he eventually said. After a pause, Laurent smiled. “Look at you. Job. Home.Girlfriend.”
The color in Craig’s cheeks grew brighter, and he didn’t seem to know where to look. “What about you two?” he said after a space of a few seconds, his intention to change the subject about as subtle as neon lights.
Laurent’s gaze found mine. “Living together has had its teething problems. Mac seems to wear more socks than is humanly possible. He must change them three times a day.”
“Not true,” I commented.
“And I know that because he leaves them everywhere. The only place I haven’t found them is in the fridge.”
“Also not true.”
“He’s a terrible cook.”
I rolled my eyes. “What can I say? I’m a lover, not a chef.”
“His French is worse than Finn’s, and that’s saying something.”
