Belle Amour

Chapter Thirteen Emotional Support Animal

September

Bastian

“Are you ready?” Bastian stood in the bedroom doorway, watching as Mirabelle threw a few more things in her suitcase with a furrowed brow. They were due at the airport in a little over an hour, and the cab would be out front in a few minutes to take them.

“Almost.” She walked over to her dresser, picked up a pile of neatly folded clothes, and carried them over to the suitcase, dumping them in and arranging them so everything would fit.

“Everything okay?” he asked hesitantly. Mirabelle had been acting a little hot and cold the closer it got to their fly-out date, and he was concerned she didn’t want to go anymore. “It's not like you to be rushing at the last minute.”

“Um, well,” She pushed her hair back off her forehead and seemed to avoid his eyes, making his heart fall. She didn’t want to go. “This would be the fourth time I've packed since yesterday afternoon. I keep changing my mind and unpacking.”

“Why?” Bastian forced a chuckle and moved to sit on her bed next to the suitcases so he could see her face better as he tried to figure out her thoughts and feelings. “We've gone on vacation together hundreds of times. Just think of it as another one.”

Mirabelle shook her head as she shut the suitcase and zipped it up. “Except this one, we're pretending to be in love and going to my ex-husband’s and his affair partner's wedding.” She was still avoiding looking at him, and he shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t reach out and turn her face to him.

“Which part of that is bothering you?” Bastian asked, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral as he coaxed her into telling him what she was really thinking and feeling.

“Both.” She admitted after a moment of silence. That stung, but he kept his neutral expression in place as he absorbed the rejection.

“Okay, we'll go as friends.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Although I'm not sure what the big deal is.”

“Look, Bast, you might think love isn't real, but I still think it is and faking it with my best friend to stick it to my ex-husband just feels icky to me.” Bastian frowned as Mirabelle walked away and came back with her toiletries bag. She reopened the suitcase, tucked the bag in, and closed it up again.

“I think love is real, " he protested. God, he hated that she still thought this about him. It didn’t matter how often he told her it wasn’t true; she never believed him. “I love you.”

“You know what I mean, Bast.” She pulled the suitcase off the bed and started to walk out of the room, dragging it behind her.

“No, I don't.” He got up quickly and followed her through the condo, genuinely confused. Why was she holding on so tightly to something he said seven years ago after he found out his wife was cheating on him? “Explain what you mean.”

“You love me, but you don't think of romance and sex with me; you think of cuddles and security. I'm essentially your emotional support animal.” She grabbed her carry-on bag from the kitchen table as she walked past it.

“Wow.” Bastian came to a halt as his brain short-circuited. Really? Emotional support animal? “You think I see you that way?” Bastian picked up his carry-on and threw it over his shoulder, then took his suitcase in one hand and his golf bag in the other as he waited for her to dig in the closet and pick a jacket.

“Tell me I'm wrong.” She held up a black, fitted leather jacket that would hit her at the top of her thighs and a longer wool duster in grey. He nodded at the leather jacket, and she put the wool duster back in the closet. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. She thought he thought of her as emotional support?

“You're wrong.” He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief.

“Uh-huh.” She pulled open the door and gestured for him to go out ahead of her, clearly not believing him.

“You are,” He insisted, starting to feel insulted. “You couldn't be further from the truth...” A thought hit him that made his stomach knot up. “Wait... Is that how you see me?”

“Of course not.” She locked her door and turned around, gesturing for him to lead the way to the elevator. “Let's go before I change my mind again.”

Bastian didn't know how to respond to what she said, and he started walking automatically. He’d been trying his damnedest for the last two months to show her he wanted more than friendship. While they were both swamped getting the law practice up and running since the PLLC came through six weeks ago and building Marie’s case against John for the divorce, he felt he’d been much more verbal about vocalizing how much he loved and appreciated her.

Unfortunately, two things were working against him. The first was that all the things he usually did to show interest in women in the past were the norm in his and Mirabelle's relationship: cuddling on the couch while watching TV, taking her to a movie, taking her out to dinner, and buying her coffee. Hell, even sleeping over at each other’s condos every other night and sleeping in each others’ beds was normal for them.

The second - and more significant - problem was his paralyzing fear of losing her. He didn’t want to declare his love for her when he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of her feelings for him or if she wasn’t ready for a relationship. Bastian didn’t want to make their friendship and business partnership awkward or uncomfortable, and he really didn’t want her to step back from him in any way, so he’d decided a while ago that he would rather things stay exactly as they were now than have her outright reject him.

Mirabelle’s comment about her being his emotional support animal was eating at him. He wasn't sure he believed her denial about her thinking of him in the same way. Maybe she did only see him as emotional support. He really didn’t know what to do or say anymore. They were about to spend a week in another state, and he had several things booked that were supposed to allow them to get comfortable with behaving like a couple. Being unsure about something was new to Bastian, and as he helped the cab driver put their luggage in the trunk, he felt himself shut down and withdraw as he struggled to understand his hurt and make decisions.

Mirabelle

As they drove to John F. Kennedy Airport, Mirabelle noticed how quiet Bastian had become. He was sitting next to her in the backseat, staring straight ahead with a slight frown on his face. He looked like he was a million miles away and his frown was thoughtful with a subtle hint of sadness to it. She tried to start a couple of conversations during the thirty-minute drive, asking him if he’d heard about a mutual friend’s recent health issues and if he was still planning to go with her to Texas in November for her mother’s birthday, but he didn’t really engage besides answering “yes” to both questions. At first, she figured he didn’t want to talk in the cab, but when they got through security, found their gate and had been sitting for a while, and he was still not talking, she began to wonder if she had hurt his feelings with her emotional support animal comment.

“Bast?” She asked hesitantly, wanting to check in with him before they got on the plane. She glanced at him and saw he was looking out the window, watching the planes take off and land, but the expression on his face told her he wasn’t really seeing anything.

“Hmm?”

“Is everything okay?” Mirabelle nervously played with the sleeve of her sweater, wanting him to go back to his usual affectionate self.

“Yeah.” He nodded absently, and she was once again unsure if he was actually hearing what she said.

“Then why aren't you talking to me?” The beginnings of frustration were slowly replacing her concern. This was out of character for him, and she didn’t like it at all. Bastian finally looked at her and smiled, but it was superficial and didn't reach his eyes.

“Sorry, Bunny, I have things on my mind, that's all.” Bastian reached over and patted her knee awkwardly, then turned his attention back to the window. Determined to get some kind of answer from him, Mirabelle decided to press him for an explanation.

“Those things wouldn't have anything to do with our conversation before we left my condo, would they?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, looking faintly annoyed, although she couldn’t tell if he was upset with her, himself or at the situation. “I'm a little insulted that you think I see you as nothing more than emotional support.”

“I didn't mean it as a negative thing, Bast.” She responded, wincing slightly as she heard the faint defensive tone to her voice. She really hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but she couldn’t help the way she felt, either.

“I don't know how it could be interpreted as anything but as a negative thing. It makes it sound as if I use you for my selfish reasons like you think I don't love you and only want you around for no other reason than for what you can do for me.” He swallowed hard, and she was surprised at the amount of hurt she could see in his eyes. “I'm also getting a little tired of having something I said eight years ago while I was hurting and angry thrown in my face.” He stood up suddenly, catching her off guard. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.” She watched in surprise as Bastian walked away, his hands in his pocket, head down, and shoulders slumped, leaving Mirabelle sitting there, unsure of what to do or say. Her brain was struggling to comprehend what just happened. She truly hadn't meant anything negative about the emotional support animal comment; they were each other’s emotional support, and they always had each other’s backs during the tough times in their lives. She considered it an important part of their bond that they were always able to be emotionally open and vulnerable with one another.

As for not believing in love, he hadn't done anything more than occasionally sleep with a woman since he ended his marriage, so what was she supposed to think? Plus, he had literally said to her that love was made up by Disney. She knew he loved her and cared for her, but she was the only one he showed any amount of affection for. He would hug friends if they hugged him first, but he never initiated physical contact with anyone but her.

She thought about going to find him, but she had no idea what to do or say or if he even wanted her to. In the thirty years they had been friends, she had always been the one he turned to when he was hurting; Bastian, walking away from her because she hurt him was new territory that she had no idea how to navigate.

No, that wasn't true, she realized. He had been very vocal against her marrying Eddie. Two nights before her wedding, his protests about her upcoming nuptials escalated to the point that she thought their friendship was over.

“Are you serious? You really don't see it? You really can't tell?” Bastian was pacing angrily in front of her while she finished packing up her living room to move into the house she and Eddie had closed on recently.

“See what, Bast?” Mirabelle snapped back at him, tired of the cryptic remarks. She knew Bastian didn’t like Eddie, but she hadn’t liked Ana either and she never behaved like he was. “You keep saying not to marry him and that I'm making a mistake, but you won't tell me why! Are you really so against my happiness? Just because you think love is bullshit doesn't mean you're right!”

“Oh my god! That's what you think?” He stopped pacing and glared at her. “You know what? Since I'm so against you being happy and love is bullshit, I can't imagine why you'd want me there!” He slammed out of her apartment and ignored her frantic calls and texts for the next two days.

She had been devastated when he didn't show up to get ready with her; he was supposed to give her away, and she didn't think she could go through it if he wasn't there. He had shown up at the church right before the ceremony, dressed in his suit but hadn't said a word when she pulled him to a room and whisper-yelled at him for being an ass. When she asked him if he had anything to say for himself, he shook his head and asked if she still wanted him to give her away. She rolled her eyes and said yes, and he had, but when he got her to the altar, he kissed her cheek, told her he loved her and left the church. He didn’t show up to the reception and didn’t answer any of her attempts to contact him before she went on her honeymoon.

When she returned, her boss informed her that he had accepted a temporary, six-month transfer to Tulk’s Dallas Office that had been offered to him two weeks before. He had accepted two days before her wedding and flew out the day after. She took over his caseload while he was gone, which required her to be in contact with him regularly, but he had kept her at arm's length, answering her questions but keeping it professional.

When she found out he had passed in his resignation a month before he was due to come back, she had flown to Dallas and demanded he talk to her. He had let her into the apartment the firm had rented for him while he was there, and she had yelled herself hoarse at him for over an hour, which he had simply taken, staring at the floor and not arguing or defending himself. It was only when she started to cry and asked him why he was breaking his promise to stay with her and be there for her no matter what that he finally got up, hugged her, and apologized.

“I’m sorry, I just… I hate seeing you with him, Bunny, he's a piece of shit, and you deserve so much more and so much better. I can't be respectful or polite to him, and it's better that I stay away from you.”

“No, Bast,” Mirabelle’s panic ramped up to ten when he said he would stay away from her, and she gripped his shirt tightly as she practically begged him not to step away from their friendship. “You just have to stay away from him, not me too. Please don't do this to me.”

“It hurts, Mira.” He whispered, his hands covering hers and gently trying to pull her loose. “I tried to tell you...” he sighed heavily. “It doesn't matter now. You married him, and I have to deal with it.”

“I won't make you be around him; I promise.” She looked up at him pleadingly and shook him slightly. “You promised me, Bast.”

“I've accepted another job. It's in New York. We'll still see each other, " he promised vaguely as he gently stroked her hair back off her face.

“It's not the same, and you know it.” Her anger at him was coming back quickly. “You know Tulk will take you back.”

“I'm shifting my focus. I’m tired of business law.” She could tell he was trying to be gentle about his decision so she wouldn’t feel guilty about being the reason he left Tulk. “This law firm isn't well established and is registered as specializing in family law and divorces. I'm taking a pay cut, but it’s a good chance to get into a small firm and establish myself.”

“You're going through a lot of trouble to be away from me, Bastian.” She finally let him go and stepped back, hurt welling up inside of her.

“No, I'm not, actually.” He shook his head. “The position here was offered to me; I just said yes. The position at Henderson was offered to me, and I said yes.”

“Henderson?” She perked up, and he looked at her wearily. “You're the new lawyer they're looking for a PA for?”

“Bunny...” He glared at her. “No.”

“Yes. You know, I prefer the background stuff over arguing in court. Come on, Bast, please? Unless...” She looked at him sadly. “You’d rather be away from me?

“Of course not.” He sighed. “It's up to you.”

The flight attendant announced the boarding for their flight, interrupting her thoughts and memories. Mirabelle stood up and looked around anxiously for Bastian. She didn’t want to board without him, and she really didn’t want to go to Ann Arbor and the wedding without him. She kept letting people go in front of her as she waited with increasing panic for him to appear. She was next in line, and only a few people were behind her when she finally saw him walk up and stand at the end of the line. She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding and boarded. She had a two-hour flight to convince him she didn't mean anything bad.