‘James is doing well I have no doubt that he will manage.’

‘I’m not talking about his competencies, I’m talking about you.’

‘I made a conscious decision.’ I tell her before taking a sip of wine, giving her a look that’s meant to tell her that tonight I’m not ready to touch this topic, before she sits down. What she doesn’t know is that I’m afraid to face her disappointment in me.

‘I’m saying that I am aware how difficult that decision was for you.’

‘Having a chance to taste this wine here, doesn’t make it feel so hard at the moment.’

‘You keep on forgetting that I know you.’ She says before she takes a small pause, letting her words settle. She does know me better than anyone. If I let it happen or she found a way, that’s up for debate, but the fact remains. And right now I’m not sure how I feel about that. With taking her comfortable pose, folding her leg under her, she lets it go for the moment. ‘But I must admit that this bottle tastes even better than the one you sent me.’

‘I found it in that store close to Jardin du Luxembourg, you know where we always bought truffle cheese.’ At this point I wonder how long I will be able to avoid her subtle game of chess with me. Because by now it’s clear to me what she is doing. That knowing look, followed by a small smile is telling me that she is perfectly aware, but still has patience to take it easy. This was always her way to form a safe environment for me that somehow always led to me opening up to her. My eyes follow her when she places her glass on the side table and walks over to the big painting above the fireplace, which I find hideous and makes me feel uncomfortable.

‘The only thing that I like about this painting is the frame.’ She touches the frame and turns around with a slow sideway smile. I know, when I come back from my daily walk tomorrow and sit down on the couch with my tea and book, I will still see her standing there with that smile in that ideal combination of cashmere and textile on her perfect body. Her blonde hair flawlessly contrasting the choice of clothes for tonight. That smile should have also warned me that she is not done with me yet. ‘I still didn’t get used to not working. I mean I tried to write… I believe I wrote twenty pages or so, but it’s crap anyway… it worries me that…’