Chapter 4 #2
‘You’d hate each other even more than you do now.’
I laugh, despite myself. ‘Okay, Luc. We don’t hate each other.’ I stab a black olive viciously with my toothpick and hold it in front of my face, examining the flesh. ‘We just don’t always see eye-to-eye.’ I place the olive on my tongue and suck the salty coating from the skin.
‘Has she finally started to like the new house?’
I bought Mauve her first home nearly ten years ago, and she initially hated living there.
She didn’t like the idea of me buying her one, she was happy where she was.
But you can’t really keep your council house when your daughter is a millionaire.
It’s, firstly, not fair on those who need them, and secondly, imagine those headlines.
‘I probably bought it at the wrong time,’ I admit. ‘Dad just died, and I think buying her a bigger place emphasised that loss. Made things feel a lot… emptier, you know?’ Another olive.
‘Can I get you something to eat?’ A waiter enters the room, no notebook in hand because they’re trained to remember intricate orders from memory, to make you feel like you’re the only person in the restaurant.
Ever the gentleman, Luc gestures for me to go first.
I stare at my menu, eyes zipping from corner to corner.
I don’t want to order the chicken. I don’t want Luc to be right that I haven’t changed at all.
The items on the menu all blur together.
I’m hot under his gaze, the seconds passing like minutes.
I’ve ripped off all the flesh from the olive in my mouth but can’t spit the pit in front of the waiter.
Luc clears his throat. ‘I’ll have the beef, please. She’ll have the coq au vin.’
My head snaps up.
‘What wine do you recommend?’ Luc asks.
‘For both of those dishes, they are well enjoyed with a Pinot Noir.’
‘Sounds good me.’ Luc looks at me. ‘A bottle?’
‘Sure,’ I croak.
‘Certainly, sir,’ the waiter says, collecting our menus from the table.
And then we are on our own again, the olive pit safely stowed, and Luc’s eyes focus on me.
No longer any menus to distract us. Luc unfolds his napkin and drapes it over his lap, pulling his chair further under the table.
I sense that his body is close to mine, the hairs near his ankles brushing against the skin on my legs.
I fight not to move, not to budge an inch so that our limbs collide. Luc doesn’t either.
‘How’s your mum?’ I ask.
‘She’s good, still in remission. She asks about you loads.’
I feel the muscles in my face relax. ‘I miss her.’
His mum started treatment not long before Luc and I broke up ten years ago, and one of the hardest parts of our break-up was the timing. I met her a few times during our relationship, and she was always so kind. Always treated me so refreshingly normal, just like Luc did.
The wine arrives, and the waiter pours a small amount in the bottom of Luc’s glass. He swirls it, smells it and takes a small sip. ‘It’s lovely, thank you.’
‘And Rory?’ Luc questions.
I wonder how long we’ll be dancing around the subject of why we’re here. Whether we’ll ask about every single family member until Luc is asking how my mum’s neighbour’s friend’s dog is.
‘Haven’t you heard? Rory is a hotshot lawyer in the city now. Making us all proud.’
‘Congratulations to him,’ Luc replies.
There’s so much left unspoken between us. Everything that happened when we ended, everything since. His ex-fiancée, my albums.
‘So, why am I here then?’
‘Mimi thought you’d be the perfect candidate to transform the image I’ve managed to create for myself,’ I say drily, taking a sip of my own wine.
‘For what it’s worth, Sienna, I think you can live your life exactly how you want to live it,’ Luc says but then he pauses, opens and closes his mouth a few times. ‘But…’ He trails off and runs his hand through his hair. ‘Are you happy?’
‘Most of the time.’
‘That’s all that matters,’ he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘If you’re happy, I mean.’
I don’t say anything, instead opting to look at my wine glass and avoid his gaze.
‘Just…’ Luc sighs. ‘You disappeared again, Sienna.’ His voice is so quiet that I wonder if I’ve misheard him.
I open my mouth to speak before remembering I know better than to start opening that wound again.
I want to remind Luc that I disappeared the second time because seeing him with Rose, hearing about their life together, their engagement, that she could provide the stability I couldn’t, was too painful for me.
‘You disappeared long before I met her.’ Luc reaches out to touch my arm and I give in to that temptation to feel his hands on me for mere seconds before I gently pull back, as though it was an accident.
I pick at the skin at the edges of my fingers, raw from weeks of grief and the anxiety leading up to a new album release all rolled into one messy package.
I didn’t technically disappear. I still said happy birthday every year once the hurt wasn’t raw anymore, but I was feeding my own pain. The entire reason I left in the first place was to avoid hurting myself.
It’s not like anything would ever work between us. It was easier to stay gone after his relationship with Rose ended. To protect myself from the pain of walking out on him again. Of him walking out on me.
The food arrives and my stomach grumbles seeing the tiny portion size, but I take another sip of wine.
‘The food is well and truly here now,’ Luc points out. ‘And I don’t think it will be for long.’
‘Wow, you are so observant. So perceptive,’ I say, cutting into my coq. ‘I really miss being able to go to a dirty burger restaurant and stuff my face full of greasy, delicious food.’
‘You still can, can’t you?’
‘I’d cause chaos for the business. Not worth it.’ There are a few moments of silence between us before I continue. ‘Well, let’s talk. About Mimi’s plan.’ Another pause while I put a small piece of chicken on the end of my tongue. ‘When did she ask?’
‘Wednesday,’ he replies, expertly carving his beef with his knife and fork.
Before the Jonny kiss. Interesting.
‘So, with Mimi’s arrangement. How is this thing going to work between us?’ He doesn’t look at me when he says it, cutting his tiny beef into tiny pieces instead and pushing it around his plate. The beef picks up the condiments likely only meant to decorate the plate while he does it.
‘I guess we’ll just have to make some public appearances.’ I cut another tiny piece of chicken and practically swallow it whole. ‘Convince people we’re in love.’
‘And will there be times like this? Where we spend time together behind closed doors?’
I shrug again. ‘I guess so? Not really thought about the ins and outs, to be honest.’ I push some of the pureed potato onto the end of my fork. It sticks to the edges of my throat when I swallow.
‘I think it would be good to have some ground rules.’ He moves his legs, his thigh bouncing off mine. I push back on my chair, growing the distance between us.
‘I agree. Ground rules sound sensible.’ I nod, putting my cutlery down and swigging my wine. ‘I don’t really want to lie to my family. I’ll tell them our relationship isn’t real.’
‘I agree. I don’t want to get my mum’s hopes up that we’re back together either.’
‘No heavy PDA,’ I rule.
‘That goes without saying,’ he nods. ‘I don’t think we need to be all over each other to convince people we’re in love.’
‘You read my mind. Only do what’s necessary.
’ I chew a piece of chicken slowly and swallow.
‘I think it’ll be obvious if we’re too heavy-handed with it.
People will know that’s not what I’m like.
’ I tap the end of my fork against my plate.
‘And no being seen with people who aren’t each other…
where it could look like “cheating”, a different romantic partner kinda thing. ’
‘Clunkily worded, but I agree.’ Luc cracks his fingers.
‘I think that about covers it,’ I say, with my mouth full.
‘What about an end date?’ Luc asks, using his hand to cover his mouthful of beef.
I frown and scoop more pureed potato. ‘An end date?’
‘Yeah, I mean. We can’t keep going forever… At what point do we fake break-up?’
‘You’re right. I’d not thought of that.’ I run my hands through my hair and push at my scalp with my fingertips. ‘Probably when the UK leg of the tour ends, and I can disappear into the background for a bit. People might forget, or they’ll probably be uninterested by then.’
‘That’s nearly nine months away.’ Luc shakes his head. ‘What, do you expect me to be celibate for nine months?’
I brush off the prickly feeling snaking across my body. ‘I never said you couldn’t see other people,’ I protest. ‘I just said you can’t be seen with them in public.’
‘What if I meet the love of my life?’
‘Do you plan on meeting the love of your life in the next nine months?’
‘Well, no. But these things are never planned, are they?’
A punch in my gut. I shake it off. I’ve been through this before and survived it, when he met and fell in love with Rose. I can do it again. If I keep myself distanced from him.
‘Okay, well… What do you say about a fake break-up at the beginning of the tour? End of October?’
Five months to change the tide of public opinion on myself. Five months to look steady.
I can practically see the cogs turning in his brain.
‘Sounds fine,’ he says.
‘Mimi would probably prefer we don’t have an end date. She’s probably hoping we actually fall in love, and you make me the perfect family woman. Marriage, kids, house in the countryside.’
Luc nearly chokes on a carrot. ‘We both know that isn’t going to happen.’
At least we’re on the same page.