I hold up my hands. “I’m not sure I’m ready to hear about how it all came to be. It’s none of my business, really.”

“Then tell me about you and Camille. You’re here and she’s in Paris. How’s that going to play out?” Rebecca reaches for her cup. The tea must have gone cold by now.

I think of Camille, wishing it was her sitting in Rebecca’s spot on the couch. She must be waking up right now. What are her plans for the day?

“It’s going to have to be long-distance. I booked a ticket to Paris for July. I’ll be spending the hiatus there.”

“So it’s serious and you’re thinking long term.”

“I am. We are.” I scan Rebecca’s face for any signs of skepticism, but find none. “I know it will be hard but I want this to work. She’s pretty amazing.”

Rebecca gives a chuckle. “It’s so strange to hear you talk like that about another woman. I know I have absolutely no right to say this, but it is.” She puts her cup back down and looks around. “When she’s here for a visit, you must introduce me.”

I hope she’s not waiting for me to give her permission for a formal introduction to Julie. I already know all there is to know about Julie Watson. I’m not ready for a sit-down dinner and a civilized conversation with my ex-partner’s secret lover just yet.

“That might be a while.” For a split second, it seems so unfair that Rebecca got to have her cake and eat it too, while all I can do is pine for Camille. But the feeling passes quickly, because if it wasn’t for meeting Camille, and developing these feelings, I wouldn’t even be able to sit here with Rebeca and have this conversation. And Julie’s name would not be allowed to be spoken out loud in this house. Though I dread to think of the number of the times Rebecca slipped into bed with me while she was thinking of her.

“Does she have many ties in France. I mean, could she move here in the long run? Because, in all honesty, I don’t see you moving to France any time soon.”

“She has two children and a grandchild on the way.” Camille spoke in such hopeful, sweet tones about Flo’s and her visit to the gynecologist last week.

Rebecca makes a tsk-ing sound. “Very strong ties.”

“We’ll see what happens. No one can predict the future.”

Rebecca narrows her eyes. “I know you. Better than anyone. Surely you must have thought about it.”

It figures Rebecca would say something like this. Would try to throw me off the very fine balance I’ve found that makes our insecure future bearable.