Chapter 15 Luc
With some effort, I manage to find a way into my bed. I don’t keep track of the minutes I spend here, sobbing in what is now once again my bedroom. There’s no point in getting up; nobody wants me around. Nothing I have is real.
I would have stayed in bed for the rest of the day, were it not for the fact that I don’t want my dad to see me like this when he comes home.
That’s the only reason for me to get up.
Once I drag myself out of bed, I wash my face in the bathroom and try to pull myself together.
My reflection in the mirror causes me to reach a rather depressing conclusion; I can’t take much more of this.
Everything feels like it’s crashing down around me, and something needs to change. Fast.
If I want a chance at happiness, I need to try again.
My life has taken a wrong turn, but I can’t just lean back and accept it—not without knowing I’ve given it my all.
I think about Cody all the time. He’s the only person on my mind when I go to sleep and the first one I think of when I wake up.
In between those times, he’s in my dreams. I miss him, I need him . . . and I need to see him.
There’s still something I can try. Maybe, if I’m lucky for the first time today, the woman I met isn’t his girlfriend. I’m well aware that doesn’t explain why she opened the door to his house, but it could have been just a coincidence, right? I really hope it was.
I’m desperate for some good news. There needs to be some part of my life that’s in control.
Otherwise, I feel like I’ll lose my mind and never get out of bed again.
It’s probably ambitious that I’d focus on turning around my love life, which is a huge aspect of my life overall, but it’s where I have everything to gain.
Not just because it’s what hurts the most, but also because if I get Cody back, everything else might automatically fall into place.
One can hope, right? Even though it might already be too late.
As I leave my father’s house, locking the front door behind me, I feel like all I’ve done today is walk and mope.
Ever since my conversation with Maxime this morning, which started it all, I’ve been walking.
I walked from there to Cody’s house, from Cody’s home to the shop, from the shop to my dad’s house, and now I’m walking from my dad’s house to Cody’s again.
At least I’m getting a good workout, but I could have done that by working.
Being an employee at a cake shop is more physically straining than one would think.
I often carry bags with heavy ingredients, like flour and sugar, and sometimes the job requires moving giant cakes into the van.
So yeah, I don’t work out a lot; I have my job for that.
Although I suppose, if I wanted to, I could now easily use my father’s treadmill. There’s no avoiding that stupid thing.
I let out a dry chuckle and shake my head at myself.
The thought might have been amusing if I weren’t so miserable.
My chance at a shred of happiness will depend on whether my crush will not only open the door when I stop by his house, but also on whether he’s single and allows me back into his life.
He doesn’t owe me any of that; I’m the one who walked out on him.
When I arrive at his house, I ring his doorbell for the second time today. Please don’t have that woman open the door again, I think to myself. I need it to be him.
I stand there and wait, holding my breath in anticipation.
Then, just as I think I might die from lack of oxygen and anxiety, the door swings open and he appears: Cody, with his brown hair, his kind face with those soft brown eyes, and his broad physique.
God, I missed him so much. For some reason, my stomach flips, and my mind instantly says mine.
Uh-oh, why am I thinking that? I can’t deny it anymore: I made a giant mistake last week.
Upon finally seeing him, I manage to take a breath, but my stomach has turned into a knot. I take Cody in, and it feels like my turmoil is mirrored in his eyes.
Shock is written all over his face. “What are you doing here?” he asks me, his tone matching his expression.
Mon Dieu, how do I answer that question? My mind travels at record speed, trying to decide where to start, but before I can say anything, the woman from this morning appears again, standing beside him, crushing my hope with her presence.
“T’es de retour?” she says—you’re back?
Fuck, I can’t take it anymore. Not only has she ruined my chance to be alone with Cody, but I’m now at a loss for how to answer not one but two questions.
It’s as if everything suddenly slams into me all at once.
All my feelings blur together into a sharp sting of pain, sending me spiraling.
I’m miserable because I miss him, angry at myself for letting him go, shocked by the possessive thoughts I just had about him, frustrated at the woman who seems determined to steal every moment I have with him . . . and it’s all too much.
Tears prickle behind my eyes. What an awful day it’s been, just one disappointment after the other, and the only person who could help me is someone I can’t have. Because of her.
“Cody, is this your girlfriend?” I blurt out, not bothering with introductions or trying to hold back tears. “Tell me now!” My voice comes out desperate, unrecognizable, and I probably look unhinged, but I don’t care.
The woman frowns, Cody just stares, and still I don’t get an answer. Because she speaks first, cutting him off. Part of me wants to strangle her.
“This guy was here before,” she says in English. “He won’t tell me who he is or what he wants. He’s acting crazy. Do you know him?”
Cody doesn’t even look at her. His eyes are locked on me. “Yes, I know him. This is Luc.”
For some reason, her eyes widen at that. I don’t care why; my brain leaps straight to the worst.
“Just fucking tell me if she’s your girlfriend!”
“I’m not his girlfriend. Or his wife,” she says, infuriatingly calm. “But I am his friend. And you’re the guy from the cake shop who broke his heart.” She glares at me. “Haven’t you done enough? What do you want from him now?”
Her words barely register. All I hear is friend. Not girlfriend, not wife, just friend. Relief crashes through me, and for the first time since I knocked on the door, I can actually breathe.
I must have been silent for a long time because Cody eventually repeats, “What do you want, Luc? Why are you here?”
I swallow hard before replying, reminding myself that just because he’s not with her, doesn’t mean he still wants me. “I . . . I just want to talk to you.”
He frowns at me. “Why would I want that?”
The coldness in his voice breaks my heart.
Maybe I should have expected it; this day has been a complete shitshow from the start.
“Please, Cody, just for a minute,” I reply, almost begging.
At this point, I’d give anything for just a moment of his time, and no matter how vulnerable it may make me, part of me hopes he knows that.
In response, he sighs deeply, as if the prospect of merely talking to me is absolute torture to him. My stomach drops with the thought. I can’t even put into words how much that stings.
“Okay, fine,” he eventually says before turning toward his friend. “Could you give us some privacy, Joyce? I’ll text you once it’s over.”
Once it’s over—God, I don’t want it to be over. Please don’t let this be it. I need another chance, just one more chance.
I didn’t expect to be crying here on Cody’s doorstep. But I am.
Joyce nods, glaring at me before answering him. “Or text me during if you need anything.” My tears do not earn her sympathy. She doesn’t like me; that much is clear.
She leaves, much too slowly in my opinion. My ears are ringing, my face is wet, and I half want to shove her out the door, step inside the house with Cody, and lock the world out, but I manage to remain clear enough to know I’m not in a position to do that. To know that he wouldn’t like it.
Another thing that bothers me is that Joyce hugs Cody upon her departure. The same part of me that wanted to lock Cody and me inside the house wants to drag her off him. It’s me he should be hugging, not her. I need it so much more.
Somehow, I manage to control myself. She said they’re friends, so I’ll just have to cling to that. Maybe I don’t have to worry—not about that anyway.
When Joyce finally leaves, I’m relieved to have Cody to myself, but the feeling is short-lived. He doesn’t seem happy to see me. Instead, he looks surprised, angry, and . . . hurt.
Well, merde. I wasn’t prepared for the amount of pain in his eyes, mercilessly reminding me of my own.
He looks about as miserable as I feel. I’m not sure what I was expecting.
The worst-case scenario would have been if his new—or old—boyfriend or girlfriend had opened the door for me, but I had no idea what to prepare myself for.
“You wanted to talk.” He glares at me. “So talk.”
A lump forms in my throat. I don’t know what to do in this situation. I shouldn’t have left him in the first place. That was stupid. So, where to go from here?
“I wanted to see you,” I reply, a deep breath leaving me, either from relief or suspense, I couldn’t say. I have too many feelings coursing through me right now. “It’s been a rough day.”
He scoffs. “It’s been a rough day for you, huh?”
“Oui. I missed you a lot.”
“Stop it, Luc,” he growls. “I’m not in the mood for your games. Why are you really here?”
Oh, there’s no doubt about why I’m here. I want him back, but I don’t know how to tell him that, don’t know where to start. And of course, as a result, I say the worst possible thing.
“I’ve been kicked out of my apartment, and—”
He cuts me off, looking unimpressed, unsurprised even, that I would only come to his house because I need his help. I can’t even blame him, but I must say, it stings. “So, what? You need money or something?”
“No,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “But things have been rough, and I missed you. I need you.”
“So, what did you expect, that I’m just going to let you in?”
“Oui. Maybe?”
He scoffs at me, the sound hurtful. “Are you kidding me?! I told you I was falling in love with you, and you ghosted me! Why should I want anything to do with you?”
Hang on . . . That wasn’t sincere, was it? I thought it was just something he said in the heat of the moment. I didn’t dare to believe he was actually falling in love with me. “Wait, you meant that?”
“Of course I did. What the hell did you think?”
“I thought it was something you said to everyone you have sex with . . . Like, another kink, as you call it.”
He scoffs again and shakes his head. “No, I don’t have a kink for that. I said it because it’s true. But it doesn’t matter now.”
I don’t know what’s come over me, but my insides are buzzing, and I can feel my control slipping away. He loves me . . . I didn’t want to see it before, but I believe it now. I can see it in his eyes.
In an act of desperation, I step toward him, crossing the threshold of his house without even realizing it. On impulse, he steps back and stares at me wide-eyed, but he doesn’t stop me. “Yes, it does. Nothing else matters, Cody. I need you. I want another chance with you. Just one more.”
“What, and have you ghost me again? I can’t handle that a second time.”
“I’m not going to ghost you.” I reach out to touch him, but he moves away just slightly. Defeat fills me, and I let my arm fall, trying not to let the feeling take hold. I told myself I’d give it my all, so I have to keep talking.
“I’ve kissed plenty of guys before you. I’ve lost count of how many.
But I never felt anything would come from it, like it would immediately end after one kiss.
But it feels different with you. It has ever since we met.
It took me some time to understand and to come to terms with that, but I realize it now.
You’re it for me. I don’t want to leave again, so let me be with you. ”
He shakes his head, automatically breaking my heart with it. “No.”
“No?”
“You don’t get off that easy, Luc. Are you really surprised?
” Yes, I answer inside my head. I might be stupid for it, but yes.
Part of me believed this would be enough.
When I don’t respond, he has his answer.
“Oh, you actually are surprised.” I can see him swallow.
“Then tell me, what would you do in my situation? If I screwed you over instead?”
There’s only one truthful answer to that. “I would pretend I never knew you, after telling you I never want to do anything with you again.”
“My point exactly. So, what would it take for you to forgive me? If you were me?”
“A lot.”
“And that’s what I expect from you, Luc: a lot. You disappeared without a trace, acted like I didn’t matter. You need to give me something, for a start.”
I nod. This is worth the effort. “Okay, how’s this? I’ll give you my number like you asked, and the next time you go to the cake shop, I’ll be there. I promise.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Not good enough.”
My breath catches in my throat at those stern words. I feel a little pathetic right now. At times, when we were in his bedroom, I felt like I was the one in charge. I definitely don’t anymore.
“Okay, I’ll give you my number and . . . you don’t have to come to the store. Instead, I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, proving that I’m serious. I won’t ask anything from you. How’s that?”
His expression lightens somewhat. “Better.”
“Okay then.” Some of my tension fades, and we exchange numbers—something I should have done the day I met him.
When I have his number safely saved on my phone, waiting for the first time I’ll use it, I say, “à demain, Cody.”
He nods and says it back. “See you tomorrow.”