42. Lily
Lily
Three days later
I nibble on a plain croissant like a kid forced to eat broccoli.
“I hope that’s better,” Nadine says.
I drop the croissant on the plate, my eyes shifting to the chocolate croissant I took one bite of and the bowl of latte my stomach didn’t like one bit. “No. It’s not much better.”
“What about some plain yogurt?”
I make a face. “I’ll stick to Perrier.”
After that dreadful meeting with my father, I cried my eyes out all the way home in the back of the taxi.
When I got to the brownstone––I video called my best friend.
Once I was done telling her about the freak show that is my life, she declared I shouldn’t be alone.
To avoid buying a ticket with my puppet master’s Black American Express card and letting him know of my whereabouts, Nadine bought me a last-minute flight to Paris.
Because she’s the best friend in the world, she took the day off, letting her part-time assistant man the shop.
After dropping off my suitcase at her apartment, we walked to Ladurée, located on Rue Bonaparte, in Saint Germain-des-Prés.
When the shit hits the fan, you head to one of the best pastry shops in Paris.
Nadine reaches out for my hand. “So much hit you all at once. Three days ago, you got hit with a bad case of food poisoning. On the same day, your father dropped a bomb on you. And the cherry that tops the sundae, he proceeded to shatter your world with that jaw-dropping video. Add to the fact you haven’t slept because you took the redeye and arrived early this morning, it’s no wonder your stomach isn’t cooperating. Give it a few days.”
My body is out of sorts.
My life is a mess.
My heart is broken into millions of irreparable pieces.
The only thing missing is Edith Piaf’s sad song ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’ as a backdrop to make my misery complete.
“I dodged the bullet with one married asshole cheater, only to fall in love with––”
I clamp my hand over my mouth.
I alluded to it, but coming out and saying it, is a different thing.
“I’m not in love with him. I hate him.” I go into defense mode.
I hate you, Gage Hollingsworth.
And I hate that woman you declared your love to.
I hate the thought of that woman using Gage’s bicep as a pillow.
I’m envious that she’ll get to wake up to sleepy green eyes blazing with desire.
And it kills me that he’ll fuck her instead of me.
I’m a gullible idiot. I bought his lies about not being with anyone since his mom’s death .
My best friend remains quiet, as if allowing me to process it all.
I let out an audible sigh. “Why are men such pigs?” I brush a hand in front of my face.
If I don’t think about him, it won’t hurt as much.
“I shouldn’t waste brain cells on Gage, since he’s the least of my problems. Finding a place to live when I get back to New York is far more pressing now that I’ve told my father off.
I’m probably going to end up living in a tiny apartment the size of my walk-in closet, or I’ll be forced to share a small and outrageously expensive apartment with God knows how many roommates if I want to stay in Manhattan. ”
“Your father isn’t going to kick you out of the brownstone. He’s not that much of a monster.”
“Wanna bet?” I sneer. “He bought me the house, but it won’t be mine until I celebrate my twenty-fifth birthday.
Same for the apartment in Paris. The two properties are his.
Not mine. The man doesn’t have a heart. He’d take malicious pleasure in seeing me agree to that stupid arranged-slash-merger-marriage so I can have a roof over my head. ”
“Putain.” Nadine shakes her head.
Translation: Fuck.
“This isn’t the 1950s,” I say.
“He should’ve consulted you?—”
“Instead of using me as a commodity to further the family fortune.”
“Pre?cise?ment.”
Translation: Exactly.
“Not to mention, with his wide network of wealthy connections, couldn’t he have found you a guy with balls?”
“Having balls means having guts, using your brain, and being willing to stand up to the great Fisher Edgington. He hates being contradicted or challenged.”
“You’ll have to move to Paris and live with me. I’m not going to let you marry Giuseppe-slash-John and I won’t let your father pressure you. This is your life we’re talking about.”
“I know.”
“Your father is trying to scare you. Don’t fall for his manipulative tactics. You’re smart and talented. Wherever you decide to land, you can stand on your own two feet.”
Doubt trickles in. “Can I?”
“Yes, you can.”
“My life has been cushy since I left Alabama.” Other than respect, affection, and love, I’ve never had to want for anything. The irony.
“You can do this, Lily.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’d need to enroll in a master’s degree to get a student visa to stay in Paris or anywhere in France. If I go the long stay route, I’d need a work permit, and in order to get one, an employer has to be willing to hire me… with my broken French and all?—”
“Don’t you dare put your father’s filthy words into your mouth.” She points an agitated finger at me. “C’est un con.” She’s never been shy about how little she thinks of my father.
My shoulders slump.
“I take that back,” Nads says. “He isn’t an asshole. He’s a dick. He says things that erode your self-confidence, but you’re a strong woman.”
I square my shoulders and take in a fortifying breath. “You’re right. He’s a dick.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Nads lifts a hand in the air.
I high five it.
“As for the work permit, you forget who my father is. My daddy outranks your daddy.” She grins wide. “I’m sure he can pull some strings to find an employer willing to hire you.”
I smile. “You’re a good friend.”
She grabs both my hands into hers. “Before the sisterhood, I was your person, and I’ll always be your person. Your ride or die.”
“My ride or die—” A thought slams into me and my face contorts.
“What is it? Are you feeling ill?”
“I’m sick to my stomach knowing that I won’t be in contact with Michaela and the girls anymore. I love those women, but I don’t want to keep in touch with them. I don’t want details of Gage and the love of his life.”
Her lips twist. “Men are shit.”
“Yes, they are.”
Nadine drops her gaze to my breakfast. “Since you don’t have much of an appetite, let’s go out for a walk. It’ll do you some good.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to take these with us for later? You might be in the mood once you get some fresh air.”
High-quality pastries that will end up in the trash.
It would be sacrilege.
“Good idea,” I say.
“Be right back.”
Nadine rushes to the counter. She’s back in a flash.
She stuffs the pastries in a box and puts them in a bag. We gather our things, and we’re off.
When we step outside, the sun is shining bright.
Early June in Paris is idyllic.
For the past three days I’ve been living in an eclipse even though it’s been sunny in New York, the images of the video of Gage and the woman he loves looping over and over in my mind.
No matter how many times I will myself to forget all about the tall, brooding man with mesmerizing green eyes who rarely smiles—but when he does, the world lights up—he invariably pops into my mind.
It’s like being thrust into a nightmare all over again.
Shy of a lobotomy, I’m not sure how to make it stop.
It should be easy to forget him. After all, he was never going to be mine. His empty promises were as hollow as a barrel. Still, he has a hold of my heart, and I’m not sure how to forget him or the way he made me feel.
Sigh.
Nads laces her arm with mine. “What do you want to do now?”
“Nothing that requires me to be around too many people. I felt claustrophobic during the flight over. I’ve never felt like that before.”
“All these emotions are taking a toll on your body and your mind.”
“They are.”
“ On flane et on fait du lèche-vitrines?”
Translation: Let’s walk around and do some window shopping.
“D’accord. I like your suggestion . ”
Translation: All right.
We stroll together at a leisurely pace. Even though it’s a little past ten o’clock in the morning, and most people are in their offices, the streets of Paris are swarming with pedestrians.
We’re about to cross the street, but I pull on Nadine’s arm. “Wait.”
“OhmyGod, you look pale.”
My vision is blurred and the world in front of my eyes is all fuzzy… even my best friend’s worried face.
“Lily!”
I feel Nadine shaking me, but I’m losing my grip on reality.