Chapter 33
It’s been two weeks since my life turned itself inside out.
I told everyone I needed space, to breathe, to think, to stop feeling like the ground had disappeared under me. And I meant it.
Then I packed up, got on a plane, and came back to Paris for my final semester. Because apparently, I’m supposed to sketch gowns and ace finals while my entire identity is slowly unraveling.
Totally fine. Everything’s so fine.
Today’s my 21st birthday. I should be popping champagne and going out with friends. But instead, all I feel is this tight knot of mixed emotions: nostalgia, confusion, and a little bit of sadness. Mostly, I just feel… off.
The plan is to go out, maybe hit a club with some friends, dance until my feet ache, and let the music drown out the noise in my head.
The only thing that would make this birthday better is if Calvin were here. But he’s not. He’s in New York for work. I get it, he’s a busy, important man. I just didn’t realize how much I could miss him.
Ryan was in Paris a few days ago, though.
He flew in early to celebrate my birthday before heading to Boston for business; he’s opening a new club there, apparently.
Dinner with him was… weird. But also kind of wonderful.
We’re still figuring each other out, learning how to exist in the same emotional orbit.
But it was not as hard as I thought it would be.
He asked about Abigail, about how I was feeling, and if we’d talked. I told him I wasn’t ready for that yet. Maybe I will be eventually. Just not now.
Then I asked him why he wasn’t furious at her. Why wasn’t he ripping the walls down over being kept from his own daughter?
“I gave her the punishment she deserved,” is what he’d said, completely serious.
And just like that, my brain short-circuited. Yep. That punishment. My face went up in flames, and I changed the subject so fast I probably got whiplash. Some things, I really, really don’t need to picture.
But aside from that… things have been surprisingly good. Ryan’s protective but not suffocating. He is gentler than I expected from a man who owns a BDSM club and commands a room just by breathing. Still, there’s something steady about him. And I like that.
Before he left, he promised he’d be back soon. And I believe him.
We talk on the phone almost every day now. Little check-ins, random thoughts, stupid jokes. It’s getting easier to open up to him and let him in. It still feels surreal sometimes, like I’m living someone else’s story, not mine.
It’s still early, and I have no idea where this relationship is going. But for now, I like having Ryan in my life. He’s a weird kind of comfort I didn’t know I needed.
I’m hunched over my laptop, knee-deep in an assignment, when my phone buzzes. It’s my mom, or, well, grandmother, but I still call her ‘Mom.’ Calling her anything else feels too foreign.
I answer quickly. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart! Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” I try to sound upbeat, but emotions crowd my throat. We haven’t talked since the whole truth-bomb situation, but I’ve missed them so much.
“Happy birthday, darling,” my dad’s voice chimes in from the background, and just hearing it nearly undoes me.
“Thank you, Dad,” I say, my voice tighter than I mean it to be.
“What are you planning to do tonight?” Mom asks.
I glance at the clock. I’m finishing up schoolwork before heading out with Dylan. He moved back in last week, because I can’t afford to live here by myself. I’ve tried looking for another roommate but was not lucky, so I asked him to move back since this is our last semester anyway.
“Just hanging out with some friends,” I say casually.
“Alright, well… have fun, and be safe,” Mom says.
“We love you,” Dad adds.
“I love you too,” I whisper, smiling as I end the call.
I barely set my phone down before it buzzes again, a bank notification this time.
I frown, opening the app, expecting to see the two hundred euros I had set aside for tonight’s plans.
Instead, the number staring back at me reads €50,200.
My stomach flips.
This definitely isn’t from my parents. I don’t think it’s Abigail either, and it’s not Calvin; he already handed me his Amex two weeks ago and told me it was mine. I haven’t touched it. Using it still feels like cheating, like wearing someone else’s shoes.
That leaves only one person.
My phone lights up again.
Ryan
Happy birthday, treasure. I’m sorry I missed the last twenty years. I promise I’ll be there for every birthday from now on. I love you.
My heart does this weird, fluttery thing. This isn’t the first time he has sent me money or bought me something, but this is the first time he’s sent me this amount of money.
I text him back.
Did you just send me €50,000?!
Ryan
Yes. Was it not enough? I can send more if you’d like. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.
My jaw drops.
What?! No, it’s more than enough. You know you don’t have to send me money, right?
Ryan
I know. But you’re my daughter.
He says as if that’s reason enough to send me so much money.
I am grateful, but it’s too much.
Ryan
No, it’s not. You deserve the world. Now enjoy your day, but not too much. I’ll call tomorrow to hear all about it. Love you.
I stare at my phone, smiling like an idiot. It’s not the money, okay, it is a little bit the money, but it’s mostly the sentiment. He’s trying. And in his own dramatic, over-the-top way, he’s showing up.
Just as I put my phone down, another message flashes across the screen.
Abby
Happy birthday, Blair. Your birthday has always been the happiest day of my life. I understand you don’t want to talk to me right now, which is why I’m texting. I’m also hoping you’ll forgive me soon.
The guilt hits immediately, blooming in my chest like a bruise. No matter what she’s done or hid, Abigail was my best friend for most of my life. I can’t ignore her. I don’t want to ignore her.
With a sigh, I call her.
She picks up on the first ring. “Hi,” she says softly like she’s been holding her breath.
“Although I’m still mad at you,” I start, “I appreciate your text. And… I miss you.” My voice wobbles just enough to give me away.
“Oh, honey, I miss you so much,” she says. “Are you doing anything special today?”
“I’m going out later,” I say, brushing a curl off my forehead. “Just some club-hopping with Dylan.”
“That sounds fun. Are you seeing Calvin tonight?”
I pause, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “No, he’s in New York for a business thing.”
“I’m sorry. I know you probably miss him.”
I hesitate, then blurt out, “Are we at a point where I can talk to you about him without it being weird?”
“I’d love that,” she says. “I want to hear everything. I just didn’t know if you wanted me to… You know, be your person again.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were cool with it,” I admit. “The whole me-dating-your-ex-who-almost-became-your-husband thing.”
“Fake ex. And it’s only weird if we make it weird,” she says breezily. “Honestly, we only ever kissed, and even that was barely a peck on the lips.”
My face scrunches instinctively, the jealousy hitting faster than I can rationalize.
“And the whole almost-getting-married thing,” she adds, far too casually.
“Oh, right, and the part where he slept with your daughter while planning your wedding.”
“See?” she says with a grin I can hear through the phone. “Nothing weird at all.”
The absurdity of it sends us both into laughter, gasping for air. When it finally dies down, the silence that follows feels warm. My heart feels a little lighter. Like maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to breathe again.
From the living room, Dylan calls out, “Blair, I’m back.”
“I have to go,” I say.
“I’m glad we could laugh like this again,” Abigail replies.
“Me too.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
“Goodnight.”
As I hang up, I feel warmth settle in my chest. My family is messy, dramatic, and tangled in decades of secrets. But for the first time in a long time, it feels like we could be starting to stitch something real back together.
Stepping out of my room, I enter the living area and spot Dylan with his new girlfriend, Sophie. She’s a vision, tall, brunette, and effortlessly chic, with that natural French charm. Whenever we cross paths, she’s always sweet to me, which I appreciate.
“Salut,”1 Sophie greets me warmly, wrapping her long arms around me in a genuine hug.
“Salut, Sophie. You look stunning,” I reply, matching her energy as we embrace.
“Thank you, and happy birthday,” she says, her thick French accent dancing through her words.
“Oh, merci,2 you’re coming clubbing with us tonight, right?” I ask, unable to hide my excitement.
“Oui.”3
Dylan’s voice cuts in. “By the way, just a heads-up: we won’t be pregaming or driving to the club together. I’m taking her out beforehand if that’s okay.”
“Of course, that’s totally fine! I’ll meet you guys at the Red Room. You two lovebirds have fun,” I tease, heading back to my room.
Just as I reach my room, my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call from the Swoon Squad. I pick it up immediately, a grin already forming.
“Happy birthday, biiitchhhh,” Meghan sings, her voice echoing through the speaker like a confetti cannon of joy.
I giggle, shimmying in my chair as I soak up the love. “Oh my god, you guys, thank you.”
“Happy birthday, B,” Inès chimes in. Her voice feels like a hug. “I hope you’re having a great time.”
I practically bounce in place, cheeks sore from smiling. “I love you both so much, it’s unreal.”
“Ugh, I wish I could be there,” Meghan groans dramatically, turning the camera to reveal baby Ethan sleeping peacefully in her arms. “But, you know, I just gave birth. So… you’re going to have to take two shots for me tonight.”
I gasp. “Oh my god, he’s so adorable.” I lean toward the screen like it’ll bring me closer to him. “I didn’t realize how much newborn babies sleep until Ethan. He’s perfect.”
“He gets it from me,” Meghan quips, grinning. Then she sobers slightly, eyes glinting with excitement. “Okay, so what’s the plan for today?”