Chapter 36
CHAPTER 36
Even in the morning light, the gothic castle looms ominously, with its ornate stone masonry and soaring turrets. I park my bike on a residential street between a van and a Mini Cooper and remove my helmet. My Kawasaki Ninja is ridable, but evidence of my collision mars the lime-green paint. There’s a long, jagged scrape along the gas tank. The exhaust is a bit dented too.
My mother screamed at me when she found out that I hadn’t gotten rid of it, but I love riding. I love to feel the whip and resistance of the wind around me. Yes, I might get hurt again, but the risk is worth it. And I love Noémie—risking my heart by giving her another chance might be worth it too. I’m scared shitless. I really don’t want to be hurt again.
As I advance towards the Toronto landmark, I chew fast on my nicotine gum. My climbing anxiety feels like a thousand bats are flying around and wreaking havoc in the cave of my stomach. It’s a million degrees outside, but the sweat that trickles down my spine is cold. I spit my gum into a garbage can near a potted plant.
A sign just outside the entrance advises that Casa Loma is closed to the public for a private event. There’s a gruff looking security guard standing just outside the large front doors. He waves in a group of guests after inspecting their invitations and referencing a list on a clipboard.
Next in line, I walk up and present my invitation.
“Name,” he barks.
“Jordan Alexander.”
He inspects the list for what feels like forever. Just as I start worrying that I’m not on it, he gestures that I’m good to proceed.
Shuffling through the entrance, I head for the conservatory where the wedding ceremony is scheduled to start in fifteen minutes. In accordance with the dress code, all guests wear tastefully understated hues of orange and lavender. While they are complementary colours, the combination could easily look tacky and cheap, but everything about the flower arrangements and decor shouts elegance and luxury.
Usually, I would stick out in a crowd like this. Most of the guests are older and white. The men flash expensive timepieces on their wrists, and the women sparkle in diamonds or other precious jewels. Despite not owning a watch and only sporting a pair of stainless-steel studs in my ears, I look like a million bucks. Lionel, Claude’s tailor, really hooked me up.
After I decided to attend the wedding, I struggled with the decision to take Noémie’s brother up on his offer to pay for my suit. But he’d been right though, I didn’t own anything remotely acceptable for the event—almost every article of clothing I own is black. And while my Kickstarter is funded, it’ll be a few more weeks before I see a dime of that money. Ultimately, I decided to swallow my pride.
Now, I’m happy I made the decision to visit Lionel because no one is giving me an odd look as I navigate my way to a seat in one of the far back corners. In the expensive single-breasted suit, I look like I belong. Tailored to fit me like a glove, it’s a light shade of lavender with white pinstripes and four large gold buttons on the front. The white collared shirt that I’m wearing beneath is crisper than a fresh twenty-dollar bill. I’m not happy about buttoning the shirt all the way up or the cream tie that chokes me, but as they say, beauty is pain.
The conservatory buzzes with conversation as more people walk into the room and search for a seat. I see Hugo St. Pierre, the Poutine Heaven King, in the flesh, waltzing towards the front row with his walking cane and his wife, and I feel a slight panic. I start to question whether my attendance is actually okay. The last thing I want to do is create a scene. I figure that I can try to get a word in with Noémie privately, and I can leave right after if she wants. Or I can play the role of a friend. Or I can even pretend I don’t know her. Whatever she wants.
A few minutes pass, and then there’s a hush. Guests start rising from their seats, turning their bodies to face the aisle. I do too.
My breath hitches when I see Noémie enter, walking towards the altar with the rest of the wedding party. If it is even possible, she looks more beautiful than I remember. Like the bridesmaids, Noémie wears a Grecian-style dress with an asymmetrical neckline. It’s orange, which tells me that Noémie probably played a bigger role in the design choices for the wedding than the bride.
Overall, the wedding is a beautiful affair. It surprises me to see Claude tearing up as Amelia is led down the aisle by her father. The vows are sweet, and when the newlyweds kiss, I feel a tug of happiness for them on my heartstrings.
Ceremony over, Claude and Amelia parade down the aisle, followed by the wedding party. Everyone is directed to go to the garden for the reception, and people start filtering out of the conservatory.
I make my exit and freeze just outside the doors. Noémie stands about ten metres down. She pointedly stares in my direction and doesn’t look happy to see me. Her heels clack against the floors as she barrels my way. “What are you doing here, Jordan?” she says, glowering at me.
I scratch the back of my ear. “Claude invited me.”
She looks nervously over her shoulder and then grabs my hand, jerking me hard towards the stairs. My heart hammers in my chest as I stumble behind her, following her up two flights of stairs and down a hall. Noémie tugs us into a dark stairwell and drops my hand. She puts distance between us, leaning her back against a wall and crossing her arms.
“What are you doing here?” she asks again, this time there’s more force behind the question.
“I missed you,” I say, answering honestly.
Noémie rolls her eyes. “And it took you months to realize this?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” I frown. My pulse is beating so loudly I can hear it.
Noémie stares at me expectantly, like she’s waiting for an explanation.
Why did I think this conversation would be easy? Why did I think that Noémie would fall into my arms and we could just pick things back up where we left them? I should’ve planned for resistance and drafted a speech. I feel very unprepared.
Sighing, I slouch against the wall opposite her and contemplate my words. I decide to start from the beginning. I decide to tell her everything. “I’ve always missed you. Even when you were just an aggravating customer. When you stopped coming into the shop, I felt your absence like an ache, and I wondered about you. Noémie, for such a long time, you’ve preoccupied my mind. And after living with you, and getting to know you, and falling for you …” I stare down at my shoes. They’re shiny brown oxfords Lionel picked out for me.
Clearing my throat, I continue rambling, hoping I can melt the wall of ice between us. “I’m not good at this. The only thing I’m good at is running when things get hard or challenging, but I’m trying to change. I’m working on going after what I want, and I know that what I want is you. I’m not sure words exist to express just … just how much I miss you.”
My words leave Noémie quite unstirred. She blows out an exasperated breath. “Okay, but you missing me doesn’t change anything. You made it very clear that you don’t trust me, that you might never be able to.”
Pushing off the wall, I take a step forward. “Trust can be rebuilt,” I say.
“Maybe, but I thought about it. We aren’t good for each other, Jordan. We hurt each other. We don’t communicate well.” She bites her lip.
“Let’s just be honest with each other from now on.” I take another step towards her.
“Didn’t we already try and fail at that?”
“I don’t think we actually tried,” I say.
“You deserve to be with a good person, Jordan,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not a good person. There’s a reason Cara took the money from my father—she was sick of my shit. You’ve no idea how vindictive I can be. You know I flirted with your cousin because I didn’t like seeing you with your ex. You know I only brought Felix around so much because I knew it bothered you. You know I left for Hawaii because I knew you’d be pissed.”
I grit my teeth. “I guessed as much, but …”
“But what? There’s nothing you can say that can defend my behaviour,” she says. “Want to know something else? I was ecstatic when Wayne told me you had a tantrum at work because you thought I chose Felix over you. Knowing all this, you still want to be with me?”
“I do.” It surprises me how quickly I say it. “Because you’re telling me. We are talking about it.”
She frowns and diverts her gaze. I don’t think she was expecting me to say that. “I’ve heard you tell Wayne before that you hated how jealous and possessive Audrina was. I’m worse than her,” she says. “Putain de merde. I wanted to kill that girl you brought over. I want to curse any woman that looks at you. On New Year’s Eve, I just about lost my goddamn mind when you were dancing with Audrina.”
She’s right, I don’t usually like jealousy in women, but it kind of tickles me to know that Noémie cares that much. “I didn’t know you saw me with Audrina,” I say.
“I wouldn’t have let you know, Jordan,” Noémie says, snapping her eyes to mine. “And that’s my point. I lie. I lie a lot, especially when it comes to talking about my feelings.”
Crossing the last bit of gap between us, I take her hands in mine. “You’re doing a good job of talking about your feelings now,” I say.
She snorts. “That’s because none of this matters.”
“Don’t say that.” I give her hands a gentle squeeze.
Noémie closes her eyes and shakes her head. “We aren’t good for each other Jordan.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t know that. We haven’t even tried.” I cup her cheek and brush my lips against hers. “You might be all those things, but you’re also kind and thoughtful. When I got into my accident, you dropped everything and drove all the way to Scarborough to pick up my family. You asked your brother to introduce me to Francois. You pushed me to go after my dream.”
She shivers and pushes weakly against my chest. “Jordan—no, we can’t do this.”
I should probably listen to her. I should probably give her the space she’s asking for, but I’m desperate. I need her to change her mind about us. I need her to stop making excuses for why we can’t be together.
I kiss her neck, and she groans. As I continue to gently suck and nip at her skin, the hands that push against my chest drift lower and bunch my shirt. “I love you so much, Noémie,” I whisper in her ear before pulling away so I can look her in the eyes.
Noémie’s pupils are dilated. Her expression is intense, but not angry. She looks more turned on than anything. Her lips are slightly parted. They look so goddamn kissable.
Bending my head, I kiss her and moan when she kisses me back. I feel her kiss everywhere. Warmth spreads through my entire body. We grope hungrily at each other.
Noémie fists my tie and yanks us closer. “I don’t share,” she murmurs against my lips. “If we do this, you’re mine. Only mine.”
I grab her by the hips and press into her. Needing friction, I rock into her. Nothing has ever felt so good. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Mon dieu, you look so sexy. I think purple’s your colour.” Noémie’s hands glide up my torso, fanning out over my chest. “I need you to touch me.”
Hesitating, I briefly look over my shoulder. “Here?”
She nods. “Problem?”
“No,” I say, hiking up her dress and kissing her. I dip my tongue in her mouth to taste her and palm her breasts.
Noémie grabs my hand and shoves it between her legs where she needs it. I rub her over her panties and she gasps. “You make me feel so much.” She rolls her hips, grinding into my touch.
The crotch of her panties is soaked through. Knowing how much she wants me makes me ache all over. “I love how wet you get for me,” I say, nudging the fabric aside and teasing her entrance.
“Stop playing with me and fuck me.”
I chuckle. “You’re always so bossy.”
“I’m needed at the reception. We don’t have—” Her words cut off when I push two fingers inside her. Her eyes squeeze shut. Her head knocks back against the wall. “Fuck,” she whines.
I cover her moans with my mouth and curl my fingers inside her. She’s so hot and tight and perfect. Mindful that it’s only a matter of time before someone comes looking for her, I fuck her faster than I’d like to, pumping in and out of her. Noémie doesn’t mind that I go from zero to maximum speed. Her nails bite into my back as she rides my fingers.
It’s not long before I know she’s on the edge of coming. Noémie cries out as she convulses, and I clamp a hand on her mouth to muffle the sound.
When she comes back down from her orgasm, she presses her forehand to mine. I hold on to her tight. Only her ragged breaths fill the space.
Noémie smiles at me, and I smile right back. “I love you,” I say.
She kisses me lightly. “I love you too.”
We disentangle. Noémie rights her dress and suddenly seems self-conscious. “How do I look?” she asks.
“Perfect.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m being serious. How’s my makeup. I don’t have my purse on me, and my compact mirror is in it.”
I give her a once over. She really does look perfect. Asides from her skin being a little flushed, no one would ever guess what she’d just been up to. “Your makeup is fine. Not even your lipstick is smudged.”
“Thank God for transfer-proof lipstick,” she says, holding out her hand. “Let’s go. I’m worried that someone’s looking for me.”
“You want me to come?”
She frowns slightly. “Yes, you’re my date.”
“What about Hugo? I don’t want to create a scene.”
Noémie sighs. “If my brother invited you, I think he’s likely banking on us creating a scene. I think I told you that he tries to hurt my father any chance he gets.”
“But what about you? I have no problem leaving if it makes things easier.”
“Fuck easier. If my father has a problem, we can leave together,” she says. “I’m done shoving who I am in a box just so he can sleep better.”
I take her hand, and we go.