We beat Serbia, a country so good at water polo, they consider anything short of gold a disgrace. Team France was on fire, and the guys played the best water polo of their lives.

Despite the Serbian hole defenders’ best efforts, Zach delivered an unrelenting barrage of shots. He even managed five long-range lobs from the corners and straight on. I almost cried every time the ball flew in a high arc above everyone’s hands and quietly landed inside the cage.

Those lobs were so beautiful they bordered on art.

But we were up against Europe’s best teams, which are also the world’s best.

Still, “La Marseillaise” was played, and my boys climbed on the podium, with bronze medals against their chests.

I’m back in Paris now and ready to call Isabelle.

She picks up and says she has made no plans for the evening. I go to her place. She doesn’t kiss me or even say hello after she opens the door.

Planting her hands on her hips, she glares at me. “A whole week without a word from you. Not. A single. Word.”

“You said to call you when I’m ready.”

“And you weren’t until today?”

I shake my head.

“Are you ready now?”

I nod.

The corners of her lips stretch downward. “Let me guess. You’ve plucked up the courage to say it’s not you, it’s me.”

“What? No!”

She looks surprised. “Then what?”

“I love you.”

She gasps.

“I love you,” I say again.

She searches my face. “Have you been recalling more things?”

“Yes.”

“Including things about me?”

“Yes.”

“And about your beautiful Angie?”

“She called me when I was in Cologne.”

“What did she say?”

“A lot,” I smirk. “A deluge of words, compared to our previous conversations.”

Isabelle frowns in confusion.

“She wanted to know if I held her responsible for covering for Clément.”

“Oh.”

“I got tired in the end and told her she was an ugly person.”

Isabelle’s brows go up. “Wow, what a downgrade! Ugly, huh? That would make even me prettier than Angie.”

“Izz, cut the crap, will you?” I touch her cheek. “Why does this self-confident, beautiful, smart woman turn into an insecure little girl the moment Angie’s name is mentioned?”

She scrunches her face. “Because last time you picked her over me?”

Touché.

“Well, this time around, I don’t feel anything for her, not even lust,” I say. “But I feel plenty for you. My body hungers for you, all the time. Actually, I meant to ask you to move in with me straightaway.”

“You’re nuts.”

“I’m just being practical.” I shrug. “I want you in my arms every night from this night on, so you may as well move in tomorrow.”

She puts her chin up. “I won’t.”

“This weekend?”

She shakes her head.

“Next week?”

“No.”

I frown in bewilderment. “But you love me.”

“I can love you from afar,” she says. “I’ve done that for nine years with great success. I’m a boss at loving you from afar.”

I smile, but my disappointment is so strong it seeps into my voice. “Will you ever move in with me?”

“I need to be sure who you are first,” she says.

“Lucas Delaunay at your service,” I say, bowing ceremoniously. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me. And here I thought I was the one with amnesia.”

She doesn’t laugh.

My expression grows serious, too. “I’m the sum of everything I’ve done before and after the coma, aren’t I? The first thirty years of my life, my actions made me a jerk. The last six years, I was a goody-two-shoes. And now that my memories are coming back, I’m all of it. The bad and the good.”

“The bad… it’s too bad for me.”

“Is there something you aren’t telling me? Something I did or said that’s worse than sleeping with you and then informing you I had a girlfriend.”

She chews on her lip, her eyes riveted to mine.

“If you’re trying to go easy on me,” I say, “please don’t. Bring it on. I can handle it.”

“OK,” she says suddenly. “You did say something, after you told me about Angie.”

I wait for her to continue.

“You said I was plain.” She looks away. “You said it was a pity fuck.”

My insides lurch.

I did expect to hear something unpleasant—but not this. This is… this makes me…

“A piece of shit,” I say. “I was a piece of shit.”

We keep silent for a long moment.

“Give me another chance,” I beg, “I’ll move heaven and earth to make you forgive me.”

She says nothing.

I draw in a breath and utter the most honest words I remember myself saying. “I love you more than you know, but I can’t promise which side of me will win in the end, the good or the bad.”

“I understand,” she says.

“What I can promise is which side I’ll be supporting. For my parents’ sake, for my club’s sake and, most of all, for you.”

She gives me a sad smile.

I open the door, step out onto the landing, and turn back to her. “I want to be worthy of you, Izz. More than anything, I aspire to be the man you’ll want to move in with and love up close.”