Chapter Fifteen Give Me the Words
As they checked into the Weber Hotel for their stay, Bastian could tell Mirabelle was struggling with her emotions surrounding his confession. Although he had to admit it, it was less of a confession and more of an “interpret this how you want” moment, and she had just interpreted it correctly this time. He took the key from the smiling front desk clerk and motioned with his chin that they were down the hall to the left of the check-in desk. Mirabelle resumed her death grip on his arm as they walked down the hall, and it was making him feel nervous. It seemed like she was afraid that if she told him how she felt about him, he would run. But he meant what he said; no matter what she told him, he was going to stick around. He just hoped they could work through everything and not be awkward and uncomfortable with one another.
Deciding to deal with things as they came, he unlocked the door to their room, unable to deny himself a sense of excitement about seeing her reaction to it. He had gone all out and gotten a poolside spa king suite, so they had a living room, a bedroom with a king-sized bed, a spa-like bathroom with a large, two-person soaker tub and a walk-in shower, and the part he knew she would be most excited about, a private patio that led directly to the pool. It meant they would have to tolerate more noise until the pool closed at midnight, but it was worth it to him if it made her happy.
Letting her go in first, he watched her whole demeanour change as she walked in and looked around, leaving her suitcase next to the sofa and dropping her purse and laptop bag on it as she explored. When she saw the pool through the doors, she let out a soft squeal and opened the door, running out to check things out. Chuckling, he found a corner to put his golf clubs in, put his carry-on next to hers on the sofa and brought both their suitcases into the bedroom, opening his to pull out his suit and hang up. He was just turning around when Mirabelle came back in, shutting the patio door behind her and practically jumping into his arms to hug him.
“Oh my God, Bast! This is amazing!” She waved one hand toward the pool excitedly, the other wrapped around his waist. “I literally have to walk ten steps from our patio to jump in the pool!”
Bastian let out a low chuckle as he held her tightly against his chest. “Of course, anything for my Bunny.” She immediately pulled away from him, and he could see she was pissed; before he had a chance to correct himself, she was yelling at him.
“Why the fuck didn't you say anything, Bastian?” She shoved him back from her, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble back a step in his surprise at her sudden switch of emotions. “Your Bunny? Jesus fucking Christ, Bast! When did you have this epiphany? How much fucking time have we wasted?”
Apparently, calling her his had set her off, and they were going to hash things out now, which he was fine with, but he was not okay with her putting all the blame on him. “What?” He caught his balance and straightened up, glaring at her. “Oh no, this isn't all on me here! I fucking told you after I left Ana I loved you! You're the one who ignored it and started dating Eddie!” But Mirabelle didn’t back down and shook her head vehemently.
“No, you told me love wasn't real after you left Ana!”
This again. Bastian let out a low growl of frustration. “You asked me if I loved you, and I told you I did!”
“Passionate, romantic love is a Disney manufacture.” She quoted, seemingly almost taunting him, which made him want to throw something in frustration.
“For God’s sake, Mira!” Bastian had never regretted a conversation so much in his life. If he could erase one moment of time, it would be that one. “Our love is different!”
“You never explained what you meant by that!” She retorted stubbornly, folding her arms over her chest and lifting her chin. “I asked, repeatedly, what that meant, and you just kept saying it was different!”
“Because it is!” He exploded, sick of repeating himself. “I'm sorry, Mira, I don't know how to describe it! It's deeper; it's more than that! Comparing what we have to Disney's idea of love is insulting to how I feel about you! Fuck!” He sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hand into his hair as his anger faded. He reminded himself that he had never made himself clear to her after he left Ana, and he was just as much to blame for her misinterpreting things as she was.
“The only reason I started dating Ana and not you was because you were so adamant about the kid thing. I held off dating anyone seriously all through high school and most of university, hoping you would change your mind or I would change mine.” He looked up to see her watching him, her arms still folded, but her head was slightly tilted as she listened. “I almost didn't get married. I was driving to pick you up and had fucking tickets booked to run away with you to Fiji. I didn't watch the woman I was about to marry walk up the aisle because I could see you crying in the front row, and it took everything in me not to grab you and run out of the church.”
“I would have left Ana in a heartbeat if you asked me to.” He watched as her eyes widened in shock, and her arms dropped to hang at her sides. “I was passionately, romantically, hopelessly, head over heels in love with Ana, Mira, and it fucking paled to nothing compared to how I feel about you.”
“I've been telling you I love you since we were sixteen.” He reached out and caught her hand, bringing it to his face and pressing it against his cheek. “Explain to me how you feel about me. Tell me it isn't more, doesn't go deeper than a fucking Disney cartoon. Please give me the words Mira, because I don't have them. I've tried to tell you, to show you how much I love you for years. I don’t know if you were waiting for a big grand gesture or what…” He saw a flash of guilt go across her face and let out a sigh. “Of course you were. Was I supposed to stand up and yell, “I object!” at your wedding? Because I thought I was telling you that when I begged you not to marry him.”
“I thought you just didn’t want me to marry him because you hated him. I didn't... I wasn’t paying attention.” Mira closed her eyes, and he could see she was regretting everything now. “Fuck. I'm sorry, Bastian.”
Bastian gently pulled her closer. They were both equally to blame in his mind, and he didn’t want her to feel bad. “You’re my best friend, Mira; that's what made it so hard for me. I didn't want to lose you. I was walking such a narrow ledge. Short of grabbing you and kissing you, which I was terrified to do because that would fuck everything up if you didn't feel the same; I didn't know how else to articulate it to you.”
Mirabelle sat next to him on the bed. They both sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to collect their thoughts. “I was waiting for the big, grand gesture,” she admitted quietly after a moment. Bastian shifted so he faced her, wanting her side of things. “Watching you marry Ana was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I was hoping you would change your mind and run away with me.” She took a deep breath. “When you got the vasectomy, I hoped there was a chance because the kid obstacle had been removed, and then you said the whole thing about love not being real, and I was devastated all over again. I felt like I had to move on and give you up so I wouldn’t go through the heartbreak again.”
Bastian felt his chest ache and wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and make her feel better. He knew exactly how much watching him marry Ana had hurt her because he couldn’t stay to watch her marry Eddie, so he couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect herself by moving on. “I understand, Bunny. I had a lot of things to work through after my marriage ended. I was angry, I was confused, and I had trust issues. I couldn't have been with you like that.” He sighed. “And I should have just come out and said something to you rather than being vague before you married Eddie.”
“That would have been better.” She agreed, sounding relieved that they weren’t yelling at one another anymore, and now she sounded amused. “You just made yourself look like an ass.”
“To be fair,” Bastian defended himself half-jokingly. “I told you right from the start of that whole thing that he wasn't good enough for you. And I straight up warned you about Casey.”
“Yeah, you did, and when I pointed out our relationship wasn't any different, and it would be hypocritical of me to say anything about it, you said “exactly.’” Her face changed as he watched her make another connection, and she groaned. “Which I just realized you were telling me you wanted more. Damn it, Bast.”
Bastian started to laugh; he couldn’t help it. He may not have been outright in his declaration of love, but he had been consistent and tenacious in showing how he felt. “This is all on you, Bunny. I've been telling you for almost two decades that I love you. You're the one who decided I must have meant I love you as a friend or a sister or whatever it was that you thought I felt. I was trying to tell you while also remaining respectful of you because I was very unsure if you felt the same. And if I'm being really honest, I still don't know.”
“I don't know.” Mirabelle pushed her hair back out of her face and couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. Bastian felt his heart drop to his toes but managed to swallow his disappointment. “I mean, yes, of course, I love you. I've been in love with you forever, but I gave up on it, Bast, and now I'm finding out I'm an idiot and...” She trailed off and looked at him apologetically.
“Bunny, calm down.” Bastian smiled, his whole being feeling lighter when she said she was in love with him and pulled her in for a hug. “It's okay, we'll figure it out. There's no pressure.” He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb across it. “I've waited twenty-one years; I can wait a little longer.” Mirabelle smiled, her relief that he wasn’t pushing her almost palpable, and leaned into him, hugging him back. “I mean, not like a lot longer, but a little longer.”
“I promise not to make you wait another twenty-one years.” Mirabelle giggled as Bastian buried his face into her neck, breathing her in for a second before he sat back and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Alright, we have the reservations at The Earle for seven tonight; it’s a French Italian restaurant that has live jazz.” Bastian's plans to spend this week dating her were back in play, and he was excited to get started. “I figured you'd want to spend the afternoon in the pool.”
“Sounds amazing, and I would normally be all for spending an afternoon in the pool, especially since it’s very empty right now.” She smiled and kissed his cheek. “But we're gonna have to go shopping; I didn't pack a swimsuit.”
“Seriously?” Bastian groaned; he’d been hoping he could join her in the pool for a bit and then catch up on some reading while she swam. “I always make sure you have a pool to swim in; why didn't you pack a suit?”
“Because I need some new ones.” She grinned and rubbed her hands in his hair, messing it up. Bastian grimaced and moved out of her reach, fixing his hair carefully. “We could just spend the afternoon shopping and get all that stuff out of the way 'cause I also didn’t bring a dress.”
“The invitation said black tie, right?” Bastian flopped back on the bed. Normally, he didn’t mind shopping, but the emotional ups and downs of the last several hours had been tiring, and he just wanted to relax.
“I think so,” she nodded, furrowing her brow. “I haven’t looked at the invitation in months; I’m pretty sure I tossed it. I can double-check, though.” Mirabelle pulled her phone out of her bra.
“How are you gonna do that?” Bastian lifted his head curiously, watching as she scrolled through to find whatever she was looking for.
“I'm gonna call Francesca.” She murmured; she paused and chewed her lip, looking a little nervous.
“Eddie's mother?” Bastian raised his eyebrow. He knew she had to work hard to win over Eddie’s family at first; being a prostitute’s daughter wasn’t something she hid anymore; she embraced that she had pulled herself out of her situation with hard work and determination. She was proud of how far she had come and the barriers she’d had to knock down on the way, but sometimes, it made things more challenging for her, and Eddie’s old-money, upper-class family had taken a while to warm up to her. But when they finally did, they embraced her wholeheartedly and had been upset about the divorce.
“Yeah, we talked a few times before things went crazy.” She glanced up at him, still hesitating. “I don’t know what Eddie told them, but the last time was very short and cold on her end. I’m kinda wondering if they know Eddie invited me and what their reactions will be.”
Bastian sat up and put his hand on her shoulder. “Might as well find out so we’ll know how to respond when we run into them.” She nodded, and he squeezed gently as she pressed the call button and put her on speaker.
“Mirabelle! Darling, how are you?” Mirabelle stared at her phone for a second in surprise and then shook her head. Bastian gave her shoulder another squeeze. Francesca seemed happy to hear from Mirabelle, and he pulled out his phone, still half listening to the conversation but confident she could handle it without his support.
“I'm great, Francesca; how are you?” Bastian grinned to himself; Mirabelle had almost immediately relaxed and fallen into her usual confident response at Francesca’s evident happiness to hear from her.
“I'm middling along. Only a week until the farce of a wedding happens, and I can go back to New York and never set foot here again.” Bastian looked up in surprise, but Mirabelle smirked and giggled.
“Not enjoying Michigan?”
“Dear, you know full well I don't enjoy anywhere that isn't New York, Milan, Paris, or London.” Bastian raised his eyebrow at Mirabelle, and she shook her head, mouthing “later,” so he knew she would explain it to him after she got off the phone. “I hear you're gracing us with your presence and bringing a plus one.”
“Yeah, Bastian and I just flew in.” She shifted, sitting cross-legged on the bed as she spoke, looking relieved that the Sheas were aware that she had been invited.
“HA!” Francesca chortled, and Mirabelle and Bastian exchanged surprised looks, not sure what to make of her reaction. “I knew you would bring him. We must have a few drinks before the wedding.”
“Absolutely!” Mirabelle nodded eagerly, and Bastian could see how happy she was that whatever issue Francesca had with her had been forgotten or forgiven. “Bast has a lot of stuff planned for us, but we'll fit you in.” She paused, looking uncertain. “Why a farce?”
“Of course, you wouldn't know .” Bastian didn’t think he’d ever heard so much disappointment in a person's voice before. “They're getting married because the bride is pregnant.”
“Really?” Mirabelle looked incredibly bemused; Bastian knew it was because Eddie had been very supportive of her “no kids” stance, so hearing he had gotten Casey pregnant was probably a shock.
“Yes. They told us and thought we would be excited to be grandparents! Victor almost lost his mind.” Francesca sighed loudly. “Then, to add insult to injury, they asked us to pay for the wedding. Victor absolutely refused and told them we had already given Eddie his wedding fund less than four years ago and were not obligated in any way to give him another one. They stormed out after that, but Eddie came back the next day alone and pretty much begged on hands and knees. Victor and I discussed it and said we'd pay if they invited you, and you accepted.”
Bastian and Mirabelle glanced at each other again. It was starting to look like Bastian had been right when he said Eddie invited them to prove to his family Mirabelle had forgiven him. “OH! Well, I'm sorry I accepted now.” Mirabelle cringed, and Bastian knew it was because they had given Eddie a small fortune for their wedding, so much that they ended up using it to cover a month-long honeymoon in South America.
“Oh no, don't be dear. I'm excited to see you show up with your divorce lawyer.” Francesca sounded absolutely thrilled. “Totally worth it. Besides, the child is innocent and deserves to come into the world free of the sins of the father, so to speak.”
“I guess.” Mirabelle didn’t sound entirely convinced. Bastian also questioned the validity of that statement and wasn’t sure what the child being innocent had to do with anything, “So, it is a black-tie event, then?” Maribelle clarified, going back to the reason for the call in the first place.
“Yes, it is,” Francesca confirmed, sounding supremely uninterested. “ So, when did you want to meet for drinks?” Bastian noted the hopeful note in her voice when she asked about seeing Mirabelle and smiled to himself. It would seem Eddie and Casey had worn out his parent’s goodwill to the point that they wanted his ex-wife back in their lives. “And I insist Bastian joins us as well.”
“Um... Bast?” Mirabelle nudged him, and Bastian closed his eyes briefly as he thought about the schedule he’d created.
“Wednesday, here at the bar in the hotel.” Bastian decided. “If that works for you, Mrs. Shea.”
“Francesca.” She corrected him. “ Mrs. Shea is my mother-in-law. Wednesday works for Victor and me as well. Shall we say eight pm? Which hotel are you in?”
“The Weber Boutique Hotel.” Mirabelle smiled happily when Bastian nodded in agreement with the time. “Eight works for us.”
“Excellent, we're staying at the Weber as well. See you Wednesday, if not before.”
“Thanks, Francesca; see you soon!”
“Ciao, dear!”
Mirabelle hung up and stretched, looking very pleased with how that went. “So, shopping and dinner?”
“Shopping and dinner, let's go.”