He admired her apparent calm, her brand-new self ­control, even the half-smile, so lovely, that had once turned him inside out, that she was able to keep intact at this moment of high emotion. She’d come a long way in two years.

“He’s nervous, but he thinks it’s right. He says he’s scared silly because he’s never met a four-year-old before . . . I know he’s doing it for me, because I don’t think he cares that much about kids, but what do you want, I mean he can’t ignore Sébastien, after all he’s part of my life . . . But what about you . . . how do you feel?”

“Well, surprised mostly, because you never introduced Sébastien to any of your boyfriends . . . Which means this is more serious than I realized . . . And also I don’t know what Gaston will think . . .”

Mathieu was the first to lose his cool. He shoved away his cup and it almost spilled on the refectory table gleaming with beeswax.

“It’s none of Gaston’s goddamn business, he’s not the father!”

Louise replied in the same tone. All her fine false calm had vanished in a second and her voice had gone up an octave, disintegrating into an unpleasant shrillness that she had trouble controlling.

“Maybe not, but we’re bringing him up!”

The danger was back. Not the danger of nostalgia this time, but the one still so fresh in their memories, of ­hurting one another, deeply, with that evil joy akin to bad faith. They saw it at the same time, at precisely the same moment; each could read it in the other’s eyes, with frightening clarity. They dropped their gazes to their coffee cups. A brief, ­electric silence that a single misinterpreted word or gesture could turn to catastrophe.

After two or three deep breaths, Louise spoke without looking up. Her voice was almost normal again.

“I’m really happy for you, Mathieu, but you have to realize I’ve found somebody that matters to me too . . . Gaston isn’t just an onlooker who turns up now and then when you come for Sébastien every fourth Saturday . . . I share my life with him, everything in my life, and that includes Sébastien, whether you like it or not . . . You see Sébastien once a month because you work three Saturdays out of four, but Gaston sees him every day, he’s like a father to him and he loves him as if he were his own child. In a way, Mathieu, Sébastien’s as much his child as he is yours; that’s hard for you, but you’d better get used to it . . . If we decide Sébastien’s going to spend the weekend with you and Jean-Marc, Gaston has to be involved and that’s that.”