Chapter 19
19
Fleur
A week passed, the London weather turned colder and things with Max kept getting better and better. We didn’t have sex, not full-on anyway, but we continued with the world’s best foreplay.
Despite the lack of sex, there was still a familiarity with us. I’d never been friends with a boyfriend before, never just enjoyed hanging out together. With Costa it had been physical from day one. With Max, the heat was there, but the slow burn gave us the chance to build a friendship at the same time. I discovered I liked spending time with him, even if it meant doing things I’d never imagined myself doing before.
Like celebrating American holidays.
“I need you to come to Paris with me this weekend,” I told Maggie. “You and Samir,” I amended. It would be better if there was a big group involved. Especially if Maggie was there to show me what I needed to do. “And I need you to explain to me about Thanksgiving.”
Maggie gaped at me. “Thanksgiving?”
I nodded. “Max mentioned that it’s Thanksgiving this weekend and that he’s homesick for American things. I’ve decided to host Thanksgiving in Paris. My parents are in Argentina, so our flat will be empty. There are plenty of bedrooms for everyone, and I figured we could make it a big group—you, me, Samir, Max, Michael, Mya and George. Maybe George’s girlfriend, so he doesn’t feel awkward. I went online and started looking at menu options, but I couldn’t decide what to go with. I mean, turkey seems to be standard, but all the sides started to get confusing and—”
“You’re cooking Thanksgiving dinner for seven people?”
“Kind of? We have a chef who can help, but I figured he wouldn’t know traditional American recipes. I want to make sure we get it right. I figured you could help. Maybe Mya.” Mya probably knew as much about cooking as I did, but surely we could muddle our way through it. “We could go for a night or two.”
She just kept staring at me with that look, like I’d finally lost it.
“What?”
Maggie shook her head, a soft smile playing at her lips. “Does Max know you love him?”
I froze. Considering I’d just started getting used to it myself, that was a huge negative.
“No.”
Maggie gave me her most no-nonsense face. “But you know it, right?”
I nodded.
“Is this your way of telling him?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s just Thanksgiving.” I shrugged, trying to keep the embarrassment out of my voice. “He said he was homesick, and I wanted to do something to make him feel better.”
“You really love him.”
“I do.”
Maggie sank down onto the bed across from mine. “Have you talked to him about everything?”
“No.”
“Fleur.”
I groaned. “Look, I don’t want to do this. I know I have to tell him eventually. But right now we’re just enjoying spending time together. It’s only been a few months, and it’s nice not having to deal with drama. I don’t want to dump all my problems into his lap. Not yet. We haven’t even had sex yet.”
Maggie’s eyes widened slightly. “What’s the deal with that?”
I sighed. I’d been doing such a good job of avoiding this conversation, and now I wasn’t sure if I was grateful to have someone to talk to or if I wished I could put it off longer.
“We both agreed to take things slow.” I hesitated. “I think he wanted to make sure things weren’t just physical between us. I think he was worried that if we jumped into bed together then we wouldn’t get to know each other or give ourselves a chance at a real relationship. Especially since we started out in such a weird place.”
“For the record, I love Max,” Maggie added with a grin.
“Me, too,” I whispered.
“Are you worried it’s just physical?” Maggie asked. “’Cause I gotta tell you, the idea of you cooking Thanksgiving dinner for him makes it pretty clear to me that this isn’t even kind of just physical .”
I snorted. “Yeah, I figured that out somewhere between the first time we kissed and looking up recipes for green beans an hour ago.”
“Green bean casserole. Definitely green bean casserole.”
I grinned. “Well, that’s one thing down. Are you guys in? I want this to be a surprise for Max. I want it to be special.”
Maggie nodded. “We’re in. You do know Samir’s going to give you so much shit for this, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. He’s one to talk.”
She laughed. “I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.” The smile changed, her eyes suddenly serious. “He’s happy for you, you know. We all are. I think he was originally worried about Max. He didn’t get it, but you’re so much happier lately. It’s good to see you smile. Good to know that he makes you smile. That’s all we ever wanted for you.”
“Me, too.”
“Then listen to me. You had a front-row seat to my relationship with Samir. You saw how much time we wasted playing games, afraid to tell each other how we really felt. Don’t chicken out with Max. He’s not with you because you’re hot, or because he cares about how much money you have, or what VIP list you’re on.”
All of them.
“He cares about you because he’s a genuinely good guy. He’s kind of shy.”
I had to laugh at that one. “Trust me. Max definitely isn’t shy.”
Maggie shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “You don’t get it, do you? Max is quiet. Max is shy. He’s spent three years blending into the background. Max isn’t shy around you . He trusts you in a way I’ve only ever seen him trust George. He lets you in, and he doesn’t let a lot of people in. Don’t fuck that up, Fleur. You need to trust him.”
“I don’t—”
“You do. You get it. You know how I know you get it? Because you’re the same way. Maybe you don’t hide in the background, maybe you’re hiding on that pedestal you and everyone else put yourself on, but you’re hiding just the same. You’re brave when it doesn’t matter. You don’t let anyone put you in your place. But you’re scared in a way that makes it impossible to let anyone in. If you don’t get over that, you’ll lose Max the way I almost lost Samir. And trust me... Nothing hurt as much as it did the morning Samir walked out of here and left me behind.”
She was right. I couldn’t imagine losing Max.
Max
I walked into Fleur’s family’s apartment in Paris and froze in shock.
Arms wrapped around my neck.
“Surprise,” she whispered.
Maggie, Samir, Mya, Michael, George and Amy—George’s new girlfriend—sat at an enormous table beneath a huge, glittering chandelier. The table was covered in expensive-looking dishes and glasses, and candles flickered against the setting Paris sun as it shone through the big windows lining the room’s back wall. I blinked. A giant turkey sat in the middle of the table. Next to a bowl of mashed potatoes. And a bowl of cranberries. And...was that a green bean casserole?
I turned away from the food and stared down at Fleur. She beamed back at me.
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
I blinked again, momentarily stunned and unable to process what was going on.
“You...you gave me Thanksgiving.”
She nodded. “You said you were homesick. Maggie helped with the menu. I wanted it to be a surprise. Henri, our chef, helped me cook.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m not sure about the sweet potatoes, to be honest. I made them, and they seemed a little lumpy, but Maggie said that—”
I wrapped my arms around her, not caring about the fact that six pairs of eyes were staring at us. My mouth found hers, her lips immediately opening beneath mine, and then I was inside, desperate for more, needing it all. I kissed her with the smell of Thanksgiving around us, with the sound of laughter, and eventually clapping, and whistles and catcalls in our ears. Fleur pulled back first, her lips swollen, her eyes sparkling.
“Do you like your surprise?”
I shook my head, my voice hoarse. “Love. Love my surprise, babe.”
Her eyes shone, and even though I hadn’t imagined it could be possible, I fell more in love with her right then and there.
“Are we going to eat or what?” Michael called out.
Fleur answered back in French, something that had Samir and Mya laughing and me hardening against her.
An answering smile spread across her lips that she only directed at me. Her voice lowered slightly. “So the French thing works for you?”
I groaned, shifting so I blocked us from the rest of the group. I needed the moment to get my body under control. It was a little embarrassing to have a visible boner in front of your girlfriend’s cousin and friends. Although, in all fairness, given the intense kiss I’d interrupted between Maggie and Samir last year when we’d gone bowling, I figured he’d understand.
“You have no idea how much the French thing works for me.”
Fleur’s gaze turned sly as she shifted her body against mine. “I think I have some idea.”
“You’re killing me. You know that, right?”
She laughed. “I have to keep you on your toes.”
“Done.”
It was, hands down, the best Thanksgiving of my life.
Fleur had been right about the sweet potatoes, but the rest was perfection. The girl at my side was even better.
I hadn’t spent a lot of time around Fleur’s friends, but it was surprisingly easy to slip into the rhythm of their interactions. They were a funny group, and as much as I had been prepared not to like him, I even found myself enjoying Samir’s company. He wasn’t the guy I’d seen hanging around with Costa freshman year, looking down on the rest of the student body like we weren’t good enough to breathe the same air. I wasn’t sure if it was Maggie or what, but the guy who sat across from me at the table wasn’t a dick. Maybe not a ringing endorsement, but I didn’t think we’d ever be best friends. He was still a bit much, but he wasn’t the asshole I’d imagined he was.
And I couldn’t believe Fleur had invited George and Amy. The fact that she cared enough to have my best friend and his girlfriend here despite the awkwardness that could have come up made me love her even more.
And surprisingly, there wasn’t anything awkward about it.
George looked like he was genuinely having a good time, and Fleur definitely tried to make sure he was enjoying himself.
We’d been together for two months now, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt as much like I was hers, like we were a couple, than I did at that moment.
I was building a future with Fleur.
After dinner the group broke up a bit. George and Amy weren’t staying the night; they were heading back to London. Mya and Michael decided to go see a French movie I’d never heard of about some fashion designer I’d never heard of, either. Maggie and Samir went out for drinks with a friend of Samir’s.
“Alone at last,” I teased, sinking down next to Fleur on the couch in her parents’ living room—probably a fancier thing than a living room considering how much crystal and gold was everywhere. I tried to ignore the paintings that looked like they should be in museums. I’d gotten to the point where I’d pretty much accepted that the wealth was just a part of her. I could have been dazzled by it, intimidated by it, could have used it as an excuse, or proof of yet another reason she was probably out of my reach.
I didn’t.
I’d wanted her for forever. Now I had her. Nothing else mattered.
Fleur snuggled into the curve of my arm. Luckiest guy in the world.
Her gaze tipped up to meet mine. “Good day?”
“Best day ever,” I answered with a smile.