Chapter Three #6
Flora called her father before anyone else, even before her best friend Allison. He was driving and picked up the phone, which was unlike him.
“Flora, are you alright?” he asked.
“I landed the cover. The Vogue cover. I shot the photo.”
Fairchild sighed in relief.
Flora was growing. She rarely mentioned Roman. She was seeing another man. She’d now landed the cover photo of a huge magazine. He had high hopes that the obsession was over and that Flora would be able to move on with her life.
“Flora, this is incredible,” he replied quickly. “Couldn’t be happier for you, darling. Call me back in thirty, okay? I’m driving to the airport.”
“Sure, sorry!”
Fairchild wasn’t trying to rush her off the phone—he just didn’t want the person in the back privy to the whole conversation.
Not that Finn was a blathering sort, but Flora was often liable to say anything.
Sometimes very odd things. And despite the fact that she and Finn had grown up together, he was still the CEO of the Woodhouse Corporation.
Finn had heard enough though to understand how she was.
He didn’t think about her much—with the merger, the marriage, and the menagerie of people he managed there wasn’t much time to think of anything—but he’d overheard a longtime houseworker, Julia, mention that Flora wasn’t coming home for Christmas a few months ago. He’d thought of her then. Briefly.
Finn had always liked Flora in a friendly, distant sort of way. She was a bit odd to be sure—the hair, the glasses, the disappearing into the woods—but always sweet.
His father’s funeral flashed through his mind.
He’d been delivering the eulogy, trying not to fall apart in front of hundreds of important people who barely knew his father and didn’t care that he was gone. A sea of identical, vacant eyes stared back at him.
Everyone looked the same.
Then there was Flora.
She sat bolt upright, eyes fixed on him, wearing a huge, strange black hat with feathers pluming out the side. He’d never seen such a hat.
Nobody else had either, by the looks of it. Everyone around her kept glancing at it, as if it might come to life.
She’d given him the courage to carry on for some reason. If Flora could wear that hat, he could give the speech.
At the end, when Fairchild and Flora came to pay their respects, she walked right up to him and bowed her head. The hat was being kept in place by bobby pins and sheer willpower, it seemed.
“Finn,” she said quietly, a tear in her eye, “Finn, I’m so sorry this happened to you. Your dad was… so wonderful.”
She said “so wonderful” in a convincing way. In a way only someone who had known his father could say.
“He was fun,” she added, swiping at a tear with the huge, puffed sleeve of her black dress. “And he wasn’t judgmental… anyway, I’m sorry.”
Finn glanced at her jewelry. Everyone else wore pearls, but Flora had opted for what appeared to be a gum-wrapper necklace.
“Thank you, Flora,” he said. “What is that necklace?”
“Oh—” She glanced down. “Oh, your dad and I made it together when I was nine. He taught me how to make gum-wrapper necklaces.”
The only real tribute to his father in the entire room, he thought.
He’d turned away to keep from crying in front of her, and she had carried on, her hat still causing a scene.
He’d always kept an eye on her. He didn’t know why. He just did. Even before the funeral.
He was happy to hear she was becoming successful in her corner of the world. He made a note to pick up the April issue of Vogue, which he would have never read otherwise… save someone pointing a gun to his head.
The drive carried on—traffic, a nearly-missed flight. Flora slipped out of his mind.
Meanwhile, Flora stood in her kitchen with Alexandre, cooking up a storm, much to his concern.
“Flora, I am very afraid to eat this,” he said honestly, staring at his plate. “I say this with love, but you are not a good cook.”
“I did this right. Trust me.”
She watched as he gathered his courage and took a bite.
“Okay… okay…” he said, squinting. “Actually… this is good. Hey, this is good! Nice, Flora!”
Flora was relieved. Two wins today: Vogue cover and Alexandre actually eating something she made without spitting it into the trash.
She thought maybe she could get three wins today, which was rather bold—usually she had no such hopes. She’d been seeing Alexandre for three months now and he hadn’t kissed her. She was kind of hoping he would.
“Flora,” he began, clearing his throat, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. What is it?”
She reached for the salsa, thinking about her favorite restaurant back home, Do?a. This wasn’t as good as Do?a, but it was better than her usual cooking disasters.
“Gosh, this turned out good.”
“It did. You are getting better at cooking. That chicken nearly killed us all a few weeks ago,” he added, clearly thinking of the memory, happy to be alive. “Anyway, so I wanted to discuss—”
The doorknob twisted.
Manon, Amandine, and Camille walked in with dessert.
“Hello?!” Flora threw her hands out. “Ever heard of knocking?”
“Oh. Are you on a date?” Manon asked.
“Kind of,” Flora said, gesturing to Alexandre.
“Sorry!” Amandine replied. “We can leave!”
Flora eyed Alexandre and he shrugged. No sense in kicking them out. Plus, she and Alexandre had weeks to discuss what he was concerned about, right?
They ate together, laughing about how angry Clemence was with the cover decision.
Later, while cleaning up, Flora saw Allison, her best friend, calling and stepped to the balcony outside her bedroom. She slid “Answer,” only for the call to fail.
She tried to call back—nothing.
“Who is it?” Alexandre asked, appearing out of nowhere.
“Allison. She called but it failed, and now it won’t let me call her back,” Flora reported. “Not sure why. What’s up?”
“I need to go. My flight for Prague leaves early tomorrow morning and I haven’t packed a thing.”
“Oh, right! Well, thanks for coming and being brave. Sorry they showed up. I didn’t think they’d barge in.”
Laughter drifted out to the balcony, along with Stacey Kent on the old stereo that came with the apartment.
“It’s alright. I like them…” he said, smiling faintly. “They’re crazy, but I like them.”
Flora giggled, setting her phone down. “We can talk later, right? Maybe when you get back?”
“Flora, can you look at me for a second?”
She did, and Alexandre closed the gap between them quickly. He looked serious now.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Flora, I like you.”
“I mean… I kind of figured. I like you too.”
“Yes, but the problem is that you are leaving in May, no?”
“I am. My internship ends and Vogue hasn’t offered me anything. Plus, it’s probably for the best that I go home and figure things out. I don’t want to hide here and not face things.”
“What are you running from? What do you have to face that can’t be faced here?”
Flora paused and looked at him. “Paris isn’t real, Alex. Not the way it is for you.”
He looked out over the many rooftops and sighed.
“Flora, I want to be your boyfriend. I want to be able to kiss you whenever. I want to travel Europe and keep taking photographs with you. But… I can’t stand the heartbreak. Not again. Not after…” He shook his head. “Once is enough.”
Flora’s chest tightened. She thought he was going to kiss her tonight. Instead, he was breaking up with her.
“Are you… ending this?” she asked.
“I—I don’t want to, Flora. But the problem is we have no definition for what we are.
I just said I want to be your boyfriend, but I can’t be.
I can’t be your boyfriend for two months and then lose you forever.
It makes no sense. Believe me, I want to continue but I feel as though I am walking purposely into heartbreak. ”
“Oh…” Flora felt her heart twisting. “I see.”
“I wanted to celebrate the cover. I wanted to discuss your plans. But the girls showed up and now is the only time we have. Since you say you are going back to America, I’m not sure what else to do.”
“Why did you ask me out in the first place if this was the likely end?” Flora asked, her voice calm but edged with frustration.
“Flora, I didn’t know if you would stay or not. I didn’t know my feelings would grow this fast. You’re the first girl I’ve liked in a long time. I wanted to see what might unfold. I do prefer you to anyone else, but if you’re leaving, what am I supposed to do?”
Flora bit the inside of her cheeks. “I get it.”
“I am so sorry, Flora. My heart is already breaking. But what can I do?”
“I get it,” she repeated, feeling numb. “It’s probably best then if we don’t talk or hang out. I think that’d be best.”
She was swallowing back the hurt. It felt like a surprise punch to the gut. What an idiot she was for thinking he was going to kiss her.
“I agree.”
“Good, good. Well, that’s all settled then. Have a safe trip to Prague. I’m sure I’ll see you when you get back.”
Alexandre was quiet, staring at her for a moment longer. Flora was biting her lip to keep from crying. She didn’t want him to see her cry, not over this. This that was never meant to last.
“Goodbye, Flora.”
He stepped off the balcony, the billowing curtains the only evidence he’d been with her.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
***
March
“He’s an idiot!” Amandine exploded for the eighteenth time in the past two weeks. “What does he think? Did he think you would stay forever when you are from California? French men! They are too romantic! They think we are all in romance novels or something.”
Flora eyed Amandine. “He wasn’t entirely wrong to do what he did. Maybe it was all poorly thought out, but I understand his concern. His ex really ruined him, and he didn’t want to have to recover again. I get it. I’m not defending him, and I don’t get why he ever asked me out, but…”
She sighed, then let out a small laugh.
“I know I should be more upset, but I don’t know… I understand his predicament.”
“You’re nicer than I am,” Manon said, rolling her eyes.