It was dangerous. How quickly she was getting used to his presence, his attention, his world. The market sounds nice, she said, helping herself to a croissant that looked and smelled heavenly.
I’ve never been to a real French farmer’s market. Then that’s what we’ll do, Damien said, pouring her a cup of coffee. After breakfast, of course.
The village was like something from a postcard. Stone buildings with flower boxes in the windows, narrow cobbled streets, and a central square where local farmers and artisans had set up their stalls. Damien seemed to know everyone, greeting villagers by name and introducing Elena as his friend from America.
The way he navigated this simpler world, so different from private jets and luxury hotels, surprised her. You seem comfortable here, she observed, as they browsed a stall selling local honey. More so than in Paris, even.
Damien nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. This place, it’s real in a way that a lot of my life isn’t. The people here don’t care about Denmark’s stock price, or who I’m dating, or what the business blogs are saying about me.
Is that why you bought a house here? To escape? Partly, Damien admitted, paying for a jar of honey without haggling over the price. But also because it reminds me of summers when I was a kid. Before my parents got divorced, we used to rent a place in the French countryside.
It’s one of the few happy memories I have of us all together. Elena felt herself softening, further toward him. Behind the wealth and success was a man with his own scars, his own complicated past.
What about you? Damien asked as they continued walking. Any happy childhood memories you hold on to? Elena thought for a moment. My dad used to take Tommy, hand me camping every summer.
Nothing fancy. Just a tent in the state park about an hour from our house. We’d fish and tell ghost stories around the campfire.
She smiled at the memory. My mom would always pack way too much food and insist we call her every night to make sure we hadn’t been eaten by bears. Were there actually bears? Damien asked, grinning.
Maybe one or two, Elena laughed. But they were more interested in the campground dumpsters than in us. They spent the morning wandering through the market, buying fresh bread, cheese and fruit for a picnic lunch.
The villagers treated them like any other couple, with no hint that they recognized Damien as anything other than a friendly American who owned a house nearby. It was liberating in a way Elena hadn’t expected. To be just Elena and Damien, two, people enjoying a beautiful day together, with no past or future complicating the present.
After the market, Damien drove them to a secluded spot by a river where ancient willow trees provided shade from the midday sun. They spread a blanket on a fore, the grass and unpacked their market purchases. This is perfect, Elena sighed, leaning back on her elbows and tilting her face toward the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Yes, it is, Damien agreed, though when she glanced at him, he wasn’t looking at the scenery but at her, the intensity in his gaze made her blush. You’re staring, she pointed out, suddenly self-conscious. Sorry, Damien said, not looking sorry at all, it’s just, you look happy, relaxed, it suits you.
I am happy, Elena admitted, surprising herself with the simple truth of it. Happier. Then I’ve been in a long time.
Good, Damien said softly, that’s all I want. They ate their simple feast, talking about everything and nothing. Favorite books and movies, places they’d like to visit, childhood dreams.
It felt both ordinary and extraordinary, this easy conversation between them. After lunch, they walked, along the river hand in hand. Elena couldn’t remember the last time she’d held hands with someone, probably not since her brief relationship with a fellow nursing student years ago.
It felt good, this simple human connection. Tell me something, real, Damien said suddenly as they paused to watch a family of ducks paddle past. Something you haven’t told anyone else, Elena considered the request.
Sometimes I resent Tommy, she admitted, the words difficult but somehow necessary. Not him exactly, but the responsibility. I was twenty-four when our parents died.
I had, plans, dreams, a job offer at a research hospital in Boston, she sighed. I gave it all up without hesitation because Tommy needed me, and I don’t regret it, not really. But sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if things had been different.
Damien squeezed her hand gently. That doesn’t make you a bad person, Elena. It makes you human.
Your turn, she said, relieved by his lack of judgment. Tell me something real. Damien was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the water.
I blame myself for Mark’s death, he finally said, his voice low. We were supposed to go on that climbing trip together. It was an annual tradition, our way of disconnecting from work and just being friends again.
But I cancelled at the last minute because of an important client meeting. His jaw tightened. If I had been there, maybe I could have prevented the accident.
Or maybe you would have been in the accident too, Elena said gently. You can’t know what would have happened. That’s what my therapist says, Damien admitted with a sad smile.
But knowing it logically doesn’t change how I feel. Elena understood that all too well. How many times had she wondered if she could have saved her parents if she’d been home that weekend instead of picking up an extra shift at the hospital? Grief isn’t logical, she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest.
And neither is guilt. Damien held her close, his heart beating steady under her ear. For a long moment, they simply stood there by the river, two wounded people finding comfort in each other’s understanding.
That evening, they cooked dinner together in the spacious kitchen, a simple pasta dish with fresh ingredients from the market. Elena was surprised to discover that Damien knew his way around a kitchen. Mark’s mom taught us both to cook in college, he explained, as he expertly chopped garlic.
She said no son of hers, biological or honorary, was going to live on ramen and takeout. She sounds like a wise woman, Elena said, grating parmesan. Cheese.
She was, Damien agreed. She died about five years ago. Cancer.
He paused in his chopping. Mark took it hard. He was an only child, and after his dad left when he was a kid, it was just the two of them.
I’m sorry, Elena said softly. Damien nodded, then continued preparing the meal. That’s why I understood what you were going through with Tommy.