Chapter Twenty-Three
Chelsea
Challenge: Go to the beach
And then Bas was gone, and my brain catastrophized.
How had I kept wanting him more? By the time I realized how badly I’d started to need him, it was too late. He’d locked on to his trip with no sign that he’d want anything to change when he got back. That was on me. I recognized what a fool I’d been, scared of my own shadow and getting exactly what I’d been afraid of: abandoned.
It didn’t help that I saw him everywhere I went. I couldn’t believe I’d known him only a few months. His stamp was on everything. I passed the Jefferson, site of our first so-called date, and wondered why I hadn’t grabbed him with both hands when I had the chance. I woke in the morning to an empty kitchen and wished I could take back everything I’d said in November. Why couldn’t I fake it a little longer?
And the market. I couldn’t even go in there. I did once, but it felt like a betrayal, and I could tell the food hadn’t been prepared by Bas. I had to resort to driving out to a normal chain grocery store across town to buy my dinner. It all tasted wrong.
I missed him, and it hurt so much I almost wished I’d never met him.
If I’d known there was a chance he might suddenly disappear from my life, I never would’ve given him a chance to worm his way into my everyday thoughts. It was exactly why Old Chelsea built the walls Bas had systematically destroyed. I could have saved myself all this grief if I’d pushed him out before he’d made the first crack. Even so, I wouldn’t go back and change a thing. Knowing him had been something special, a total surprise. It just sucked to return to my normal loneliness. Charlottesville had never been so tedious.
Luckily, work distracted me. I had to finish all my designs so they wouldn’t be hanging over me all week, and I picked up shifts at the coffee shop to make up for a sudden dip in my funds. My mom cashed the check I’d sent her in November, and I needed spending money in France.
I didn’t know if my dad had ditched her again or if the two of them were out enjoying my hard-earned cash. I might’ve called to find out, but she had my number and hadn’t bothered to warn me. She hadn’t even called. I guess I could at least take solace in the fact she must have thought about me long enough to endorse the check.
Tired of giving her a pass, I wrote her an actual letter, one I intended to send. It wasn’t as scathing as the first, but I reminded her what a shit childhood I had, and mostly due to the man she was currently choosing over me. I let her know that as long as she kept the status quo, I could no longer be a part of her life. If she kicked him to the curb, or more likely if he eventually walked out on her, she could contact me. Until then, I considered myself an orphan.
Then I dropped the letter in the mail, doubting she’d ever acknowledge it. I was an adult now, and her job was done.
My trip to France with Elizabeth couldn’t come soon enough.
Saturday morning finally arrived. Elizabeth called an Uber, and we flew out of Charlottesville on the scary-ass tiny plane that had to go vertical in negative five seconds to pull over the mountains. Then from Atlanta, we took off for our final destination of adventure in a faraway land. When the flight attendants announced our imminent arrival in Paris, all my tension melted away, and my smile grew so wide, I thought my face might split in two. God, I loved to travel. New sights. New smells. New foods. All within reach. I’d stop worrying about my mom. Maybe I’d stop dwelling on Bas.
We arrived in Paris sometime around nine a.m. local time and hailed a cab to take us to our hotel. It was my idea to spend one night in the city before boarding a high-speed train to Saint-Tropez so I could get more out of our trip. Elizabeth would get plenty of time relaxing on the beach, but I wanted to see things.
And Paris did not disappoint. Despite our jet lag, we dropped our bags and went in search of the hop-on hop-off bus I’d found online. Earphones in, we soaked in the architecture, the Seine, the Parisians out strolling, and heard the song “Aux Champs-Eysées” approximately two hundred times.
We stepped off the bus to walk around the Eiffel Tower, then grabbed lunch at a random café where the waiter opened our bottles of soda behind his right shoulder, like some kind of street magician. Everything was as glorious as I’d ever hoped.
“Maybe I’ll stay here forever,” I told Elizabeth. But the old promise didn’t cheer me up.
As much as the lure of foreign lands pulled at me, my ties to her always drew me back home. And now, I had a second reason to return.
I couldn’t believe how much I missed Bas, even with so much to distract me. The old me would’ve been horrified by how much I’d let my life intertwine with a man’s. How much my happiness depended on the existence of another person. It scared me, but Bas didn’t. Did that mean I’d versioned up? I hated it.
Now I was plagued with worries I’d never dealt with before. What if Bas stayed in Greece? What if he forgot about me? Would I just feel like this forever now? My stomach cramped, and I picked at the fries I’d been rhapsodizing about minutes before.
“Tired?” Elizabeth asked. “Maybe we should skip some of the things on your itinerary. I don’t think we can make it to three museums in one afternoon.”
“Whatever,” I said, staring up the Haussmann architecture—a name I learned from the audio tour.
“So the Louvre?” She scrunched her face up in question. “The Picasso?”
“You pick. I don’t care.”
“Does Paris not impress you, my queen?”
I sighed. “Paris is fine.”
“Paris is fine ?” She steepled her fingers and appraised me, like she was my therapist. “What is eating you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the jet lag.”
“Nah. I know you. You could be dog tired, but you’ll still get pudding face at the thought of a random alley you’ve never ventured down. You’re always game for travel. Besides, you don’t look tired. You look sad.”
I was sad. “Hormones?”
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were pining.”
I scoffed. “Why would I be pining? I’m going to see Bas when I get home. Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Her brows knit together. “Why wouldn’t you see him? Did you have a falling out? Did I miss something?”
“I just have this creeping suspicion that he’s going to get to that restaurant and fall in love.” My voice cracked. “It has to beat his job in Charlottesville.” It had to beat me. “And why would he come home for some girl he met three months ago?”
“I thought you two were just friends now.”
“We are, but…” I swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Oh my God. Are you in love with him?”
Was I? I had no experience with romantic love. I loved Elizabeth. And I’d grown attached to Bas, but love? What defined love?
I waved for the bill. “Screw the itinerary. Let’s just wander around the rest of the day.”
The next morning, after an amazing Parisian breakfast of café au lait and baguettes, we boarded the TGV—otherwise known as the bullet train—bound for Saint-Rapha?l. While Elizabeth kept her nose in a book, I watched the countryside pass by and eventually nodded off. She shook me when we arrived, and we dragged our suitcases to the nearby pier, where we caught the last boat taxi to Saint-Tropez.
The trip had looked easy—on paper. As had the weather.
Fortunately, the ferry was enclosed, as the rain began to pelt us as soon as we left the shore. “Maybe we should’ve gone to Jamaica after all,” I said.
“We’ll have fun.”
I knew we would. Hitting a resort town in January meant we might not get a tan, but we got a great deal on a rental. The views would be just as spectacular regardless of the temperatures, and I was content to soak up the charm of the quaint town.
Elizabeth could read a book anywhere.
“Maybe I’ll take a day trip to Nice.” I could rent a car and drive farther east to explore the Italian coast if I wanted to get out of my own head.
Like she was reading my mind, she said, “You’d drive to Monte Carlo and want to keep going.”
As it turned out, there was plenty to occupy our time for a few days. We climbed up to the citadel and explored. Though many shops and bars were closed for the off-season, it wasn’t a complete ghost town. We mingled with locals who told us how smart we were to avoid the summer crowds. They advised us to visit the gorgeous village of Grimaud, which was so incredibly French, I felt like I might be in a movie. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m moving here.”
The best part was getting to spend so much uninterrupted time with my best friend.
On one of our last days, Elizabeth grabbed a couple of towels and said, “Let’s just relax at the beach today.”
The beaches in Saint-Tropez, while a bit chilly, weren’t inhospitable, so I didn’t mind hanging out doing nothing but talking or reading or sleeping. We plopped down, and I looked out at the beautiful azure sea with boats on the horizon.
I should have been in heaven, but it was a tactical error taking a break from all our activity. Despite everything and even with Elizabeth beside me, the sadness rolled back in. I felt lonelier than I ever had, and I couldn’t shake this yearning for something more.
Maybe it was the idea of being orphaned catching up with me.
Maybe it was just me catching up with me.
Elizabeth liked to say: Wherever you go, there you are. I wondered if that was a Greek proverb. Bas would’ve known, but he wasn’t here.
That thought alone made the longing so acute, I began to realize I was homesick. But what do you call it when the place you want to go to is a person?
Elizabeth said, “Hey, wasn’t Tender is the Night set in Saint-Tropez?”
I shrugged. If she didn’t already know that, I wasn’t sure why she was asking me.
She picked up her phone and started typing frantically, like her life depended on knowing this bit of trivia. “Hmm. Undetermined spot on the French Riviera.” More typing. “More likely in Cap d’Antibes, according to this blog.”
Her phone settled, she opened her book, but she seemed unusually distracted, chattering about Zelda Fitzgerald, pondering aloud whether the word cap in fact meant cape , and asking if we should add some lavender farm in Kentucky she’d discovered to our list for this year.
I hadn’t even thought of our new list. I was completely agnostic about it. “Yeah, maybe.”
Apropos of nothing, she said, “We’ve been friends a long time, right?”
I brushed some sand off my towel, terrified it would make its way into my ass. “Yeah.”
“Remember that time you fucked me over so hard by making me tell lies to a guy I ended up falling in love with? Remember when you lied to get me to go on a picnic with that same guy?”
I coughed. Where was this coming from? “The ends justify the means, E.”
“Just remember that, okay?”
I cast a glance at her, scrunching up my face. “Whatever. You’re so weird.”
“I love you.” She winced like she was sorry for something. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.
“Uh. Okay. I love you, too.” Did I need to clarify that it was unconditional? I felt like she was about to confess she’d sent my letters to my parents, or worse, maybe she’d signed us up for hang-gliding.
Her gaze shifted beyond me, and she shaded her eyes against the glare of the low-hanging sun. I squinted in the same direction, but the only thing I could make out was some guy walking along the beach, a halo of radiant light framing him from behind. “So much for our secret spot.”
Elizabeth waved her arm overhead, and the man veered away from the water toward us. As he neared us, she called, “I thought you’d never get here.”
And then I realized who it was. Bas.
I jumped up and ran for him. His smile lit up his whole face. My brain couldn’t begin to explain why he was here. “How?”
“I flew over from Athens. You were right. It was only a couple of hours.”
He looked so gorgeous in his half-buttoned white linen shirt and tan trousers, like some fictional man of wealth and mystery. He laughed as he lifted me in his embrace, and I breathed in the familiar smell of him. If Elizabeth wasn’t standing a few feet away, hooting with glee, I might have forgotten myself and kissed him. When he set me down, and I drank my fill of his beloved face, I nearly did anyway.
“Are you staying with us? We’re only here until Saturday.” God, the idea of spending even two days lying on the beach with him was so delicious, I suddenly felt high.
“Um,” Elizabeth broke in. “Surprise! We thought we’d give you some options.”
“Options?” What the hell was going on? I stood there, blinking like an idiot, waiting for someone to explain.
“You can go home with me, or—” She side-eyed Bas.
“Or—” he continued, and it dawned on me this was a coordinated effort. “I rented a car.”
I glanced between them, confounded. “And if I get in the car?”
“Well, you don’t have a job to go home to, right?”
I didn’t. I’d taken an extended leave from the coffee shop, and my laptop had all my graphic design work on it. “Um, no, but I have airline tickets from Paris.”
“They’re refundable. Like I said”—Elizabeth tapped her temple, birthplace of genius—“options.”
Bas waved back the way he’d come. “If you’re game, I thought we could drive to Nice tonight.”
My heart exploded in mini heart butterflies. I’d get to see Nice after all. “And then?”
“I have at least a week to drive to Athens. You tell me where you want to go.”
I worked my jaw silently for a few seconds, speechless. “But Elizabeth—”
“Will be fine,” she said. “I got here in one piece, and I can find my way home. You want to go see things. So go see things.”
Bas laid a hand on my elbow. “What do you want to do, Chelsea?”
I stared at where he touched me, awed that I had this extra time with him, praying Elizabeth would forgive me for taking it, and wanting nothing more than to explore the world with this man beside me. When I told him of my dream of travel, I wasn’t just talking, and here was Bas, handing me a map. “I don’t know. Where should we go?”
“You said you’ve always wanted to explore the Mediterranean coast. I thought we could drive to Monte Carlo tomorrow, then on to Venice. From there, we could travel through Croatia and Montenegro until we get to Greece. I don’t know much about any of these places, so jump in here anytime.”
“When you said you’d show me the world, you were already planning this?”
He shook his head. “Ha. No. That was like”—he rubbed his chin—“November. Elizabeth called me earlier this week.” He winced like he expected me to hit him. “You’re not mad we surprised you, are you?”
“Mad? I’m going to cry. Feel free to surprise me anytime with travel. I can’t believe this.” I took a breath to steady my nerves. “Does this mean you’re done with whatever you were doing in Greece?”
His body tensed, and his hand went straight to the back of his neck. I knew something was up before he said a word. “Yeah. About that.”
I clenched my fists, pleading with the universe he wouldn’t say what I felt deep down he was about to say. This was our last hurrah, our last week together.
“I’ve been considering staying here. In Greece, that is. It turns out you were right. My uncle’s restaurant is a really great opportunity. Maybe too good to pass up.”
I knew it. I was so tired of being disappointed.
“But—” I whispered. I hated myself for putting my own needs first, hoping he was going to say but it’s only temporary. “When were you planning on telling me?”
His lips flattened into a solid line. “I’m telling you now.”
I forced myself to say, “I’m sorry. I’m just surprised.” But inside, I was reeling. What if I hadn’t come over here? Would he have just disappeared from my life?
“You’ll see. The hotel is unbelievable.” He grinned, and a twinkle lit his eye. “But let’s not worry about it right now. We’ve got this time together.”
I processed his words. I should’ve been thrilled for him. After all, I’d urged him to give the idea a chance back when he’d first mentioned it. But I was too focused on the one thing that mattered. “And then you’re going to stay. In Greece.” I stared at the sea, trying to shake the betrayal I didn’t have the right to feel. It was almost more painful to entertain the brief hope only to have it snuffed out again.
“Look, if I do, it won’t be forever.”
“But—” I didn’t have a valid rebuttal. It made sense, and I’d given him no reason to come back home.
“My family is right. I could work in a successful restaurant and get some better experience on my résumé. My uncle would let me have some freedom on the menu.”
“Bas. What about—” I’d created this problem and now couldn’t in all sincerity ask him to weigh me into his decision. I hadn’t given him any indication we’d ever have a future together. I guess in the back of my mind, I’d truly believed there’d be time, that when we were both back home, we’d sort out our feelings.
“Let’s have a fun week, okay? And I’m taking you to Greece with me. You can see where I’d be. I think you’ll really like it.”
My eyes filled with tears. I didn’t want to shit all over his plans, but I couldn’t help wondering if he’d change them if I asked him to. Had I forfeited that right? It would be selfish to drag him away from a stepping stone in his career, but nobody had ever confused me with a saint. I squared my shoulders.
“Okay.” I tried to smile. I’d gobble up whatever time Bas was willing to give me, and maybe this would give us the chance to figure things out now. I wouldn’t go home without taking my best shot.
We walked back to our hotel, where I hugged Elizabeth and asked her a dozen more times if she’d be okay. I’d stay with her if she asked, but she laughed at me. “You’d be even more miserable knowing what you’d be giving up. Besides, I’m planning to do karaoke.”
I shuddered. I would never do karaoke. “You win. Call me as soon as you get home.”
Bas grabbed my suitcases, and I followed him out to his rental car.
He punched something into his phone and started to drive, following the navigation. I stared out the window, watching the new terrain unfold, but my head was filled with a world of competing concerns.
What if Bas decided to take his uncle’s job? What if this was the last week I ever spent with him?
The irony wasn’t lost on me that I seemed to have found myself on vacation with an attractive man I’d never see again after I went home. The very situation I normally sought out. But it wasn’t the same. This was Bas. We’d already crossed the streams, and I knew he wasn’t the emotionally unavailable one in this scenario.
What if I’d told him how I felt? Was it too late now? What if he still stayed? What if he rejected me anyway?
I leaned against the passenger side door, gazing at his strong hands on the steering wheel, at his forearms where he’d pushed his sleeves up. Oblivious to my objectification of his beauty, he hummed joyfully to the music on the radio, cursed other drivers in his adorably curmudgeonly way, and at one point shot me such a saucy eye fuck I wanted to climb over the console and straddle him.
I couldn’t lose this. I made up my mind to fight for him with everything I had.