Chapter 11
Juliette
“Merci,” I say to the woman at the Air France counter. “Thank you so much.”
“De rien,” she replies before gesturing with one hand. “Security is to the right.”
I nod and smile weakly before dragging my roller bag to the checkpoint entry.
It’s odd how my belongings have been reduced to this tiny overnight suitcase, and yet I don’t care because in the end, it’s just stuff.
As a result, I donated about ninety percent of my clothes to the local Goodwill, only keeping the essentials.
It didn’t seem right to bring a ton of baggage with me on the next step of my journey.
It’s been heart-breaking and painful, but this is the final chapter of my American adventure.
After all, my period came today, which means that I’m not pregnant. Despite the constant lovemaking and my youthful age, I wasn’t fertile enough to conceive within the sixty day window, which means that I need to leave the United States now.
“Just stay,” my friend Marielle urged on the phone. “Who cares if you overstay your visa? Tons of people do it all the time.”
“Yeah, but I’d be illegal, and this is a bad time to be an illegal,” I said. “I mean, ICE is basically kidnapping people off the street at this point, and I don’t want to risk it. If I’m going to go, then I’m going to go with my head held up.”
Marielle winced a bit, her pretty features looking pinched.
“There’s nothing honorable or dignified about what ICE is doing, so I wouldn’t worry about maintaining your pride,” she said in an urgent tone.
“It’s not worth it, and especially not when it comes to something like this.
Besides, you know I got my visa through the kennel I work at. Let me see if I can get you one too!”
“But I hate dogs,” I said with a pointed look. “I mean, not hate hate, but I’m allergic to canine fur.”
“Just take medication,” Marielle said with a wave of her hand. “The owners are cool and I know when I explain your situation, they’ll be open to helping you apply for an H-1B. It’ll work out!”
I shake my head.
“Mari, I appreciate it so much. You’re incredibly kind and caring, and so generous too, but there’s no way that I could qualify as a dog trainer, and especially not the kind you are. Don’t you work specifically with herding dogs?”
My pretty French friend nods while brightening.
“Yes, livestock guardian dogs who guard flocks of sheep, goats, and even cattle sometimes.”
I nod, impressed.
“See? Your skill is super specialized, and not something I could just pick up, even if I didn’t have these horrendous allergies. So merci, ma chérie, but I can’t go there, although I appreciate the idea.”
Marielle was disappointed, but she acknowledged that I was being realistic, and we ended the conversation with a smile and air kisses shortly thereafter.
Now, here I am with my one little bag about to enter the security checkpoint at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport.
I look around the lofty terminal, and my eyes catch sight of a giant American flag hanging vertically from the ceiling.
My heart aches as my shoulders droop. I’ll miss this place, and I wish it didn’t have to end this way because the United States has become special to me.
Well, at least you have the memories, the voice in my head whispers. He was gorgeous and cared for you, if only in his own way.
That’s true, and as a result, I try to cheer up.
My subconscious is right. Things could be a lot worse because I could have wasted time with a man who was effete, shallow, and vain.
At least Jordan Lewis was none of those things.
He was a powerful alpha male who controls his environment at all times, and who takes what he wants. The problem is that he didn’t want me.
Feeling even worse, I begin walking towards the woman at security.
“Hi,” I say. “I’m on the night flight to Paris.”
“Certainly,” she says, nodding her head. “Passport and ticket please.”
Fortunately, I already have the documents in hand and the employee’s scanning them when suddenly, there’s a commotion behind me.
“Juliette,” a deep voice wheezes. “Juliette, wait!”
I spin on my heel, and is it my imagination, or is Stevenson the butler pushing Jordan in a wheelchair as they race towards me through the terminal? What in the world is going on? My heart starts pounding because what’s going on? Is Jordan sick or injured? Oh my god, I couldn’t bear the thought.
“Jordan!” I gasp when the men screech to a halt. “What happened? Oh my god, are you alright?”
The powerful alpha male winces as he levers his massive form out of the wheelchair, but fortunately, he’s hale enough to stand.
“Juliette, we need to talk,” he rasps. “Over there, by the windows where we can have some privacy.”
I stare at him.
“But I have to catch a flight,” I say.
“Fuck your flight,” he bites out. “I just had a panic attack because I thought you’d left me.
Now move,” he commands. His voice booms, reminiscent of better days, and automatically, I find my feet shifting in response.
Within moments, we’re seated in chairs by the window as the rest of the airport population swirls off to the left.
“Jordan, what’s going on?” I ask. “Why are you in a wheelchair? How did you find me?”
“It was Stevenson,” he wheezes slightly before inhaling deep.
“And I’m fine. I’m sorry, honey, but like I said, I had a panic attack when I got home and you weren’t there.
I thought you’d deserted me and started getting chest pains.
But I’m fine. Stevenson kept his wits about him and drove me to the airport,” he says in a grim tone.
“Thank fuck they have wheelchairs here.”
“I never thought I’d see you in a wheelchair,” I say in a low tone.
“I never thought I’d be in one,” Jordan responds immediately before those blue eyes fix on mine. “But why did you leave, Jules? What the fuck is going on?” His voice is rough and urgent, and my heart leaps into my throat. I love this man so much, and yet I know this isn’t the time to mince words.
“I left because I’m not pregnant, Jordan. I’m absolutely, one hundred percent not carrying your child because I got my period this morning, and you know that my visa expires in a week, so there’s nothing to do. I might as well leave for Paris now.”
The alpha male nods, his expression pained.
“Thank you for telling me,” he says in a low voice. “Damn, that sucks.”
“If it sucks, then why are you here?” I ask in a plaintive tone, my voice beginning to rise with hysteria. “Our plan failed. You’re not getting an heir. My visa’s expiring, and it’s time for me to go back where I came from. Sayonara. Au revoir. Adios.”
Jordan’s expression is tormented, the skin around his eyes tight. He’s incredibly handsome in a white shirt and fancy denim jeans, but this is no time to be ogling my lover. I need answers, and I need them now.
“What’s going on with all the dramatics?” I demand. “Why are you here? Otherwise, I have a flight to catch.”
The billionaire’s silent for a moment as he stares at the floor. But then he jerks his head up and those blue eyes are mesmerizing as he seizes my gaze.
“I don’t want you to go, Jules,” he states in a deep rumble. “You mean too much to me, and I don’t care about that baby shit anymore. You don’t have to breed my heir, and my family name can die. It’s fine.”
I’m so surprised that my eyebrows practically fly off my forehead.
“Really?” I ask, my jaw on the ground. “But what happened? I don’t get it because even Harry was always talking about how important it was to maintain his family line. He’s a gay man, so it was going to be a bit tricky, but there are ways. So what caused you to change your mind?”
The alpha male’s silent for a moment, looking pained. But then he pierces me with that gaze once more, his eyes so incredibly blue that my heart thumps.
“You did,” he says in a simple tone. “I love you, Juliette, and the past two months have been amazing. Incredibly blissful, and yet I was fucking it up with this baby thing, and it’s goddamn brutish too.
You don’t owe me a child. You deserve to stay in the United States, and I’m going to make sure it happens for you. ”
My heart leaps with happiness at his words, but I pause once more.
“But what made you come to this realization?” I probe, still wary of this change of heart. “I mean, you’ve spent forty-five years living and breathing the sanctity of the Lewis name. How can you just turn on a dime?”
The alpha male nods, his expression serious.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he acknowledges. “My family isn’t as special as it sounds. I think I mentioned that we’re not even descended from Meriwether Lewis himself because he has no direct descendants. We’re descended from his sister, Jane.”
“Yes, you said,” I say. “But you’ve always known that. So what changed your mind?”
Jordan is silent for another moment but then he takes my small hand in his big one, and looks me in the eye.
“There are things about Meriwether Lewis that the general public isn’t aware of, and which aren’t exactly fit for a Disney movie.
One of those is that he committed suicide.
He was a depressive, with a drinking problem, and a ton of debts after his voyage.
So he wasn’t an All-American hero whom we should put on a pedestal and worship.
He was a complicated man with mental issues, and there’s no reason to exonerate his life as if he were perfect.
He’s not perfect, and that’s why we don’t have to have a baby. It’s fine.”
I squint at Jordan.
“But this isn’t new news to you. Was there something else too?”
Jordan shakes his head.