Belle Amour

Chapter Five The Morning After

Mirabelle

A t five minutes to ten, Mirabelle pulled up to Bastian's condo building, parked in his visitor’s space – really her space since she was pretty much the only one who used it – and let herself into the building. She would be shocked if he was ready; he had texted her throughout the night, apologizing several times and complaining about Kelly’s antics, all while assuring her he was going home soon. She answered the first couple of texts dryly and stopped responding at nine-thirty, irritated that he was still there after claiming it was “one celebratory drink.” The last time he texted, it was close to midnight, telling her he was home. Mirabelle left him on read, too irritated to respond, and went to sleep.

She wasn’t sure what she’d do if Kelly was there. She didn’t think Bastian was stupid enough to get drunk with Kelly again after the whole baby-trapping attempt or sleep with her, but she also never thought he would take Kelly’s side with things, and he’d proven her wrong multiple times in the last three months.

Stepping off the elevator, Mirabelle nervously tapped her keys against her thigh as she walked down the hall to Bastian’s condo. She deliberately didn’t text or call to let him know she was awake and on her way, partially wanting to believe that he was going to be up, packed and waiting for her. That they would be able to have a calm, adult conversation about Kelly and how her attitude, work ethic and John and Bastian’s way of appeasing her was bringing down office morale, then have a discussion with John and the rest of the support staff when they got back next week, and everything would work out… But the other part was looking forward to the fallout that would happen if Bastian wasn’t ready because she desperately wanted to bring Kelly, John and, to a slightly lesser extent, Bastian, the consequences they deserved.

She stood in front of his door and took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever was about to happen, then unlocked it and let herself in quietly, looking it around. When you walked into Bastian’s condo, you were in a small entrance area with a door to the left that led to a small two-piece guest bathroom/laundry room, and then you walked into the open-concept kitchen, dining room and living room. There was a small guest bedroom Bastian used as an office off the dining room and a master bedroom with an ensuite off the living room. It was mostly monochromatic in blacks, greys and browns, with pops of colour in the artwork and throw pillows and blankets. He was minimalistic when it came to knick-knacks, mostly small things he had collected when travelling with Mirabelle over the years.

There was no sign of Bastian, and when she moved into the kitchen, still a little hopeful he would come out of the bedroom with his duffel bag, she could hear the shower going in the ensuite. She huffed out a sigh and ran her hands through her hair, debating on what to do. On the one hand, it was ten, and she told him she wasn’t going to wait for him. On the other, it sounded like he had slept in and was going to be out in a few minutes. Deciding that she had given him more than enough opportunities to prove he was on her side with things, she started to leave, but the bedroom door opened, and Bastian walked out, still in pyjama pants and a t-shirt. He froze when he saw her, guilt blooming across his face.

“Mira.” He croaked, glancing at the clock and visibly wincing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Hey Bast.” Mirabelle leaned on the end of the kitchen island, smiling at him humorlessly. “Should I wait and see who comes out of the shower, or is it who I think it is?

“It's not what you think -” He stopped speaking and winced again as the words came out, running his hand through his hair. Mirabelle raised her eyebrow at him in disbelief, and he started toward her. “I know it looks bad, but…” He sighed and trailed off, clearly knowing how pathetic he sounded.

“Seriously?” She laughed harshly. “So, you didn't bring that bitch back here last night after your “one celebratory drink” and fuck her?” She suddenly didn’t feel one bit of guilt about what she was about to do, and she hoped getting his dick wet was worth it.

“I brought her back here, but...”

“Nope. I don't care.” She cut him off, shaking her head as she pulled the envelope with her resignation and the check out of her purse and laid it on the island. “It's none of my business. I'm just your PA, and at the end of my vacation, I'm not even that anymore.” She placed the keys to his condo on top of the envelope and turned to leave.

“What are you talking about?” Bastian moved quickly toward her, shock and panic replacing the guilt on his face. “Mira, let me explain!”

“I told you if you weren't ready at ten, I was leaving without you.” Mirabelle moved quickly to the door without looking back. “I was hoping to have more of a discussion around my resignation, but it clearly wouldn’t have mattered.” She left his condo, forcing herself to walk and not run to the elevator.

“Mira!” Bastian chased her out into the hall and down to the elevator. “Will you just please let me explain!” He caught her by the upper arm, gently stopping her and turning her around to face him. “I didn't sleep with her; I slept on the couch.” Mirabelle looked up at him, raising her eyebrow as Bastian’s hand slid down her arm to grasp her hand. “I swear I didn’t; you know I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole; I’m not stupid.”

Mirabelle wavered slightly. He’d always been honest with her, and he was right; he wasn’t actually stupid enough to sleep with her, but that didn’t explain why he brought her to his place. “So why is she showering in your bathroom instead of her own this morning?” She pulled her hand free and folded her arms over her chest.

Bastian let out a huge sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. She could see he was exhausted and frustrated, but she really didn’t understand why he kept giving in to Kelly, which was frustrating her, making her less understanding and patient with him. “She convinced me to go to the Infamous, and when we got there, she ordered a Long Island Iced Tea and some kind of shot, and she fucking downed them. By the time I finished my scotch, she had three drinks and three shots gone, so she got herself fucking wasted. She hit on me, and I turned her down very bluntly. She started crying about how no one wanted her because she was a single mom and was just a very sloppy drunk. I didn’t feel right leaving her alone in that state, so I brought her back here to let her sleep it off and sober up.”

Mirabelle stared at him in disbelief. “You didn’t feel right leaving her alone and brought her back here to sleep it off and sober up.” She repeated. She really didn’t understand his thought process at all. “So, she sobered up and slept it off; why haven’t you kicked her out yet? You knew I was going to be here at ten.”

He let out another sigh and ran his hand over his face. “I went in to wake her up and get her out, and she had vomited all over herself, the carpet and my fucking bed.” Bastian made a disgusted face and shuddered. “That's why I'm not ready to go, I got her into the shower and was cleaning up. I'm sorry, Bunny, I am packed. We just need to drop her off at her place, and we can go.”

Mirabelle felt a moment of pity for him, then reminded herself that he brought it all on himself and got angry again. “But why did you have to look after her at all, Bast? Why didn't you call her father to come to get her?”

He blinked and looked guilty again. “I was going to, but she begged me not to. She was sobbing really loudly and attracting all kinds of attention, going on about how he would be disappointed in her for getting drunk and how no one understood how hard she had it. It was embarrassing, and I just wanted to get out of there.”

“Jesus Christ, Bast!” Mirabelle was done. She didn’t know what happened to him, but this was not the Bastian she knew and loved. Her Bastian would never tolerate this bullshit. “You knew we were leaving at ten. You know how fucking done I am!” Angry tears filled her eyes, and she impatiently wiped her eyes, frustrated that all her emotions were attached to her tear ducts. “Why are you constantly putting her feelings and needs ahead of mine? Or yours, for that matter?” She jammed the call button for the elevator, the doors opened, and she got on, hitting the button for the lobby.

“Bunny, I'm sorry!” Bastian put his hand out and stopped the doors from closing. “Just come back. I’ll get her out, and we'll go.”

“I don't want to go anymore.” She sniffed and wiped her cheeks again. “I want to be alone.”

Bastian looked like he was absolutely devastated that he had hurt her this much and started to step toward her when they heard a door open, and Kelly's nasally, whiny voice reached them.

“Bast?” Bastian looked down the hall and then at Mirabelle pleadingly.

“Mira, please.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away from him.

“Go on, she needs your help.” She folded her arms again and looked away from him. He groaned softly as Kelly called out to him again, and his shoulders slumped as he realized she was going to leave, and he couldn’t leave Kelly alone in his place.

“I'll come to see you later.” He promised, reaching out and wiping tears away with his knuckles.

“I wouldn't bother,” Mirabelle muttered, pushing his hand away from her. She wasn’t going to be home or at the cabin, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Mira, we need to talk.” He pleaded with her, a desperate edge to his voice. “You can't just resign and make all these decisions without discussing things with me.”

“Pretty sure I can.” She shrugged, somehow managing to get her emotions back under control.

“Bast?” Kelly called again, sounding impatient. “What are you doing?”

“Go on.” Mira encouraged him, unable to keep the snarky tone out of her voice. “She's calling you.”

“This isn't fair, Mira.” She could see the hint of anger in his eyes and wondered where he got the audacity. He brought this all on himself. “You know if I had another choice-”

“You had lots of choices, Bast!” She snapped; she was over his excuses and just wanted to leave. “And in every single one of them, you have put me last and made me put my head down and be the bigger person! I'm done.” She pushed his hand off the door, and she watched as fear replaced anger in his eyes as the door slid shut and felt a small measure of satisfaction. If he thought things were bad now, he had no idea how bad things were gonna get.

Bastian

“Fuck!” Bastian swore loudly and spun around, heading back to his condo. He never should have agreed to the damn drink in the first place, and he definitely shouldn’t have gone without Mirabelle. He was done trying to make the transition of his and Mirabelle's leaving smooth for John. He never should have agreed to stick around after John told him he was bringing Kelly in as a third lawyer in the first place, but John’s pleading that he needed Kelly and Kade to move out so his wife wouldn’t leave him, which meant Kelly needed a job to support herself and the boy had played on his heartstrings. When he reached the door, he glared at Kelly, who stepped back into the kitchen, looking a little nervous about his obvious anger. “Call a fucking taxi and get out of here.” He snapped as he walked in, determined to catch up to Mirabelle before she got too far ahead of him, assuming she was going to the cabin.

“But I'm still sick!” Kelly protested, making Bastian close his eyes briefly. God, she had such a grating, whiny voice. He felt a headache build up in his left temple and pressed his fingers on it.

“I don't care. Get out.” He walked into his bedroom and gagged as the smell of alcoholic vomit hit him. Mirabelle was right; he should have just called her father. He was a sucker for a woman’s tears, though. He hated to see them cry and hated it even more when they were crying because of him. The fact that Mirabelle left here in tears because of him was killing him, and he just wanted to go beg for her forgiveness and take her away to the cabin for the next month. He quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed the bags of Kelly’s vomit-soaked clothes, brought them back out to the kitchen and tossed them at her feet. “Go. I have somewhere to be.”

Ignoring the hurt look she was sending him, Bastian grabbed the envelope Mira had left and opened it. Pulling the resignation letter out quickly to see what she was putting down as the reason.

“Resigning due to continued disrespect from other members of the practice and the failure of my immediate supervisor to put a stop to it.”

Bastian groaned. He couldn’t even argue with Mirabelle’s reasoning; to her, it probably did look like he had failed to try to stop it, but the fact was he had gone to John numerous times and reported Kelly’s behaviour as well as warned him that everyone was unhappy. John had either waved him off or attempted to talk to Kelly, which would result in her crying and getting her own way. He glanced down at the letter again and noticed the date with a jolt of surprise. She had written it three weeks earlier, and he had to search his memory for what happened.

When it came to him, he dropped his head into his hands and let out a loud groan. He walked in on Kelly berating Mirabelle for a mistake in a legal document in front of the receptionist, interns and other support staff. Mirabelle was letting her go off, scrolling on her tablet calmly. When Kelly paused for breath, Mirabelle stood up and firmly informed her that she was not her assistant and that, according to the electronic signature, Kelly had typed up the document herself. The rest of the staff had giggled, but instead of admitting her mistake and apologizing, Kelly lost it and started to yell at Mirabelle that she was lucky she wasn’t her personal assistant because she would have fired her for her insolence ages ago.

Not wanting things to escalate with Kelly going to John to complain about Mirabelle, Bastian had stepped in and asked Mirabelle to apologize to Kelly for her tone but didn't have a chance to say anything to Kelly about her yelling at Mirabelle for her mistake, because Mirabelle had stared at him and said very clearly. “No.” before walking away. He had followed her to their office, and she shut the door behind him, looking furious. Before he could explain, she told him she would quit and stop speaking to him if he ever treated her that way again. Realizing he had made a mistake by addressing Mirabelle first, Bastian had apologized and begged her to please keep the peace, promising he would make it up to her, but he needed to maintain a professional appearance and atmosphere while he navigated leaving. She reluctantly agreed but reiterated that being treated that way again would result in her resignation.

He heard the sound of one of his stools scraping the floor as it was pulled back from the island. He looked up to see Kelly making herself comfortable while she watched him. Unable to believe her stupidity, he glared at her. “Get out before I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.”

“I'm here at your invitation.” Her voice was sickly sweet, and she put her chin in her hand as she gave him what she clearly thought was a winning smile. How she thought he would want anything to do with her after the scene she caused last night, vomiting all over his bedroom and the way she messed up his vacation, he had no idea.

“Which has been rescinded. Leave.” He growled as he returned his attention to the letter, folding it up and attempting to push it back into the envelope. It seemed to be catching on something, and when he looked in, he saw another piece of paper and pulled it out. He frowned as he tried to figure out why she had written him a check. Then he read the memo line and saw it was payment for his services as her divorce lawyer; he ripped it up and began to swear loudly. Kelly finally seemed to figure out she was being an idiot, so she grabbed her things and headed out of the condo without saying another word. When he heard the door close, he grabbed his phone and sent Mirabelle a text, begging for a chance to talk to her and promising to explain everything. He stared in disbelief when it came back undelivered and called the number, only to have a voice tell him the user was busy and hang up. She had blocked him. Anger mixed with fear welled up inside of him. She should know he never meant to hurt her and that there was a reason for how he was handling things.

Snarling, he grabbed his keys and wallet and slammed out of the condo, determined to find her and get her to understand things.