Chapter 32 #2
Bastien paused briefly, checking if she was still listening.
In answer, Celine stalked towards the door and slid down to sit on the opposite side, her back pressed to the door, pressed to Bastien.
For a delirious moment she thought she could feel his heartbeat through the wood.
Celine huffed a humourless breath. Was she hurting to the point of imagining things now?
The sound was probably only the wood thumping against the dampness working its way through it.
Dejectedly, she leaned her head back and listened to him.
“I did not lie when I said I wanted to kiss you again that second time,” Bastien continued.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you—before and after it.
I couldn’t stop smiling either, when I thought about you.
I wanted to see you, constantly. I didn’t want to stay away anymore, and not merely for the promise of a few stolen kisses.
I wanted everything Jacques had with you—I wanted to laugh with you.
I wanted to make you laugh, to kiss you whenever I wanted.
” A sigh, heavy with regret, left his lips. “But the night of your birthday…”
Celine’s breath hitched. Outside, pasted on the window, drops of rain trembled in tandem with her body. Her entire skin had flared up in goosebumps. She drew her knees to herself, hugging them. Part of her didn’t want to relive this scene. The other part wanted—needed—to see his point of view.
“It wasn’t fair to you to give up everything for a whim, for—for something uncertain,” Bastien said.
“And when you called it that…” He sighed.
“I have never felt for someone the way I feel about you. I didn’t want you to regret choosing me, so I told you I only wanted fun—what I’ve told everyone else.
I thought it would be easier that way. I decided not to show up at Maison Baudelaire either.
I couldn’t bear seeing that look on your face again.
I couldn’t bear hurting you a second time. ”
“But you still did.” Her voice trembled, her throat clenched in pain. “We were a team and you bailed.”
Only a choke of protest reached her from the other side. And then:
“Because I was angry at myself and afraid the damage I had done was irreparable, not because I didn’t love you,” he said at last, offering her the words she had been so desperate to hear that night.
“You have made me feel more in nine weeks than I ever have my entire life, Celine.” A small exhale echoed through the door.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness this time—you already gave me a second chance and I still wasted it.
” His voice was faded, yet filled with repentance.
Celine pressed her palm to the door. “But if you can forgive me, and if you can love me back, I am yours. I’m a mess, and probably not worth much, but I am yours.
And if you cannot forgive me, I still want you to have everything.
” Celine heard a set of keys jingle. A moment later, he slid them underneath the door.
“I don’t care about the money anymore, but whether you win tomorrow or not, I want you to have the studio.
I won’t be there, if you do not want me to.
I’ve hurt you more than I cared to, and I know this barely sets half of it right, but I want you to have it.
I…I have no use for it without a designer. ”
Celine felt the first tear touch her cheek. His mother’s studio, that he had kept locked for a decade, that he had not sold—not even to pay his grandfather back. Bastien was willing to give it to her to ask for her forgiveness. To set things right between them.
And, he loved her. The thought came barrelling with the speed of a train. He. Loved. Her.
There had been no doubt in his voice when he had said it. No regret either, other than the regret of not telling her when she had wanted to hear it. Bastien had laid his heart bare for her and there was only the absolute truth in it.
She picked up the keys, turning them over in her palm. I can’t believe he took you to Adalene’s studio, Ana?s had said. That’s like sacred ground to him.
“Stupid boy,” Celine whispered, another tear sliding down her cheek. Giving her the most precious thing to him. The only thing he had left of his mother. Because he loved her.
When Celine opened the door, she had not expected to find the space there empty. Distant footsteps echoed faintly through the building.
Bastien had left.
Frantically, Celine brushed her tears away and rushed after him into the dark stairwell.
Slivers of light pierced through the planks covering the walls, providing enough light for her to find her footing and take the stairs by two.
There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in her heart now.
A whole entire year she had spent with Jacques.
A whole year of trying to fall in love with him.
And it had taken Bastien only one kiss and one second to destroy all of that.
Celine couldn’t deny it, nor did she want to: her heart was meant for Bastien all along.
His footsteps sounded closer. Celine paused a short distance away.
“I cannot believe you,” she rasped.
Bastien halted on the landing, turning and blinking up at her. A shaft of moonlight fell across his eyes, grey and glistening with tears, and livid with desperation. It twisted something in her.
“You came here,” Celine breathed, “gave me all that spiel and a set of keys, and now you’re walking away? Again—for the third time?”
Stark confusion flashed across his face. “I—I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want the studio.”
“But—”
“I don’t want the studio,” she repeated fiercely. “Not without you in it.” Descending the last set of steps, Celine grabbed him by his shirt and slanted her mouth over his.
Bastien had to brace himself against the railing as to not tumble down the stairs along with her. Celine wouldn’t have minded that. She wouldn’t have minded anything at that very instance. His lips were like a balm to the ache in her heart.
There was a momentary lag in his system, before his senses jolted awake and he quickly brought his hands up to cup her face, kissing her back.
Nothing, Celine thought, has ever felt more right than this.
Tears were gleaming in the corners of her eyes when she pulled back. “I don’t want you to be anywhere but by my side, Bastien Ménard.”
Bastien seemed to be quarrelling with himself for a few seconds. Once his desire-addled mind cleared up, he stammered, “Y-you don’t hate me?”
“Oh, I hate you,” Celine stated. “And you will make up for all of it in time. But my dream had you in it too, Bastien. Maybe not at first, but you became an inextricable part of it later. You are half the reason why I even made it this far in the competition. You weren’t obliged to help me during the challenges, but you still did.
Including all those trips you made back and forth, bringing my dresses and the fabrics. ”
“Those were nothing, Celine.”
“They were everything to me.” The hot prickle of tears rose to her eyes again.
“No one has cared about me being a designer the way you did. You never called it a silly dream, not even when we struck the deal.” When the competition hadn’t meant much to him, save for it being a means of getting the money he owed.
“I will never forget all of those things, Bas, whether we win or not. But I cannot open the studio without you. I don’t want to. ”
Hope and relief broke across his face. “Can you forgive me? I know I do not deserve it but—”
Lifting herself up, Celine cut him off with a kiss. “I forgive you, Bastien,” she whispered against his lips. “As long as you promise to be by my side at the final round tomorrow.”
He stared at her. “But Jacques—Ana?s said the proposal was tomorrow.”
Celine shook her head. “I’m telling him no.
I love you, Bastien,” she said, realising with a start that she hadn’t said the words before, either.
“I’ve missed you so much these past six days, to the point where I felt like I was missing half of myself.
I want you to be my friend again.” Gently, she nudged his nose with hers. “I want you to be more than that.”
Bastien stared at her for the briefest of seconds, before sweeping her up in his arms and ascending the stairs back into the attic, whispering with every step how sorry he was, that he had never meant to hurt her in the first place.
When he closed the door behind them, the draft caused the candles to flicker out.
The room was plunged into darkness, but Celine did not mind.
She grabbed him by his shirt, tugging him towards the old divan.
Jacques and the proposal, even the competition—everything was forgotten.
For once, Celine wanted to do something just for herself, and if there was one decision that she wouldn’t let anyone else have a say in, it would be this.
The back of her knees hit the cushions and Celine plopped down, Bastien following fast, catching her little yelp with his lips.
“My Celine,” he whispered against the hollow of her throat.
Her hand slid from the back of his neck to trail down his chest where she undid a few buttons on his shirt. Bastien shuddered.
“I thought you would have gotten used to me touching you,” she chuckled.
“Oh, you were always too professional to touch me like this,” he teased, voice barely higher than a rasp. “Except for in my dreams.”
“You’ve dreamt of this?”
“Every night since that second kiss. I’ve dreamt of lying like this with you and kissing you over and over and over again. And I’ve dreamt of loving you, hopelessly and unapologetically.”
Celine’s heart swelled at the words. In that moment, she thought he was the loveliest person in the world.
She traced the tip of her finger down his jaw, unsure if Bastien would even feel it until he leaned into her touch.
There was a question poised on his tongue, and Celine had to silently prompt him to ask, “Did you and Jacques ever…”