Chapter 33 #2
“We will never be able to please everyone,” she said. “We don’t owe that to them, anyway. But we do owe it to ourselves to do what feels right and what makes us happy.”
“And Bastien makes you happy?”
“I know I’m happy when I’m with him,” Celine said softly. “That is all that matters to me. I—”
Distant church bells disrupted her thought, announcing ten o’clock. Celine’s attention drifted to their direction. The competition—
“Go,” Jacques said, squeezing her hand once, then letting go of it. “You came here with a made up mind. And…” He swallowed hard. “I would never stop you from living your dream, Celine. Go. I’ll be alright.”
Celine stared at him with wide eyes. In the next heartbeat, her arms coiled around his neck, pulling him into a fierce hug.
“Merci, Jacques,” she sighed, finding it difficult to say anything else.
Her entire body was trembling with relief.
Both of their actions had been a product of their circumstances; nothing they had done intentionally.
This acceptance and this forgiveness—she recognised that it had taken him tremendous effort to make. But she was grateful for it.
Jacques buried his face in the crook of her neck for the very last time and whispered, “I am sorry,” before gently placing her down again. “I never wanted to make you miserable.”
“I am sorry, too,” Celine whispered back.
“I never wanted to lie to you.” There was so much more they needed to say to each other; more wounds that needed stitching, which only a very long conversation could provide.
But looking at him, Celine realised that he might need a bit of time for himself before they were ready for that.
Mouthing another thank you, she tossed Jacques one last glance before rushing towards the garden gates.
· · ·
Bastien’s Cadillac was lingering by the park’s entrance, engine running and heaps of glittering dresses poking out from every direction.
He must have found Ana?s wandering the gardens too, because she was sitting in the backseat, fingers tapping annoyingly on her brother’s shoulder as they waited for Celine.
“Will you stop that?”
Ana?s flicked his ear. “Do not tell me what to do. This is all on you. You and your shrivelled little heart.”
“I’ll have you know,” Bastien shot back, “that my heart is perfectly fine now.”
Celine could hear their bickering all the way from the courtyard.
There had been no sign of her mother when she had traced her steps back from the fountain.
Her father seemed to have vanished as well—in all probabilities discussing summer plans with Monsieur Ménard.
Celine didn’t want to dwell on it. They would find out the proposal was off when they’d look around and fail to find their daughter there.
Right now, she had to focus on getting to the car before Bastien and Ana?s murdered each—
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Celine staggered in her next step when a hand closed around her arm, yanking her back. Whipping around, she met her mother’s narrowed gaze.
“Maman.”
Madame LeBeau peered over Celine’s shoulder, at the automobile overflowing with haute couture. Bastien and Ana?s had dropped their argument and were looking at them with apprehension.
“What is the meaning of that?”
Celine inhaled sharply. She had broken one heart today, what was another? Although this one would be a harder feat.
“I am not getting engaged to Jacques,” she said, tugging her arm free. “I told you I wanted to make a name for myself, and that is where I am headed right now.”
“You are making a big mistake, child. Come.” Madame LeBeau reached for Celine again. “Let’s get back inside. Jacques will understand.”
“I’m sorry, maman.” Celine took a step back.
“But this is my life, and there are some decisions that I cannot let you make on my behalf, even if that hurts you. I know this isn't what you and papa planned and I know I make your life hell with those articles published in the scandal sheets. Most of the time you’re unsure what to believe or even make of me.” She fought back the last of her tears and jutted her chin out.
“But I am finishing that competition today and you can’t stop me. ”
Utter shock flitted across Madame LeBeau’s face. Her expression shifted from incredulous to livid when Celine eyed the car.
“Don’t. You. Even. Dare,” she hissed.
“Sorry, maman,” said Celine, and broke into a sprint. Ana?s opened the door for her, scooting over to make room.
“Celine Heloise LeBeau! You will not get in that car,” Madame LeBeau cried.
Defiantly, Celine did just that.
“Celine!” Her mother’s voice turned faint.
“Let’s go,” Celine said with a grin, patting Bastien on the shoulder.
He didn’t question her twice; he pressed on the gas. The car jolted forward into movement, then rocked them backwards again when Bastien hit the brakes fast.
“Jesus!” Celine exclaimed, sliding forward.
“No,” Bastien huffed, hands trembling on the wheel. “Only Jacques and his death wish.”
“What the hell did you tell him, Cel?” Ana?s, who had slid off the seat entirely, scrambled to sit upright again. “I think you’ve made him suicidal.”
The three of them gaped at Jacques standing in front of the car, palms upon the hood.
“Can—Can I come along?” he asked. “I really don’t want to tell fifty people the engagement is off.”
Celine peered at Bastien in the rearview mirror, one shoulder lifted in a tiny shrug. Why not? If I get to escape those fifty guests, so should he.
Bastien loosened a long, exasperated sigh. “I suppose,” he grumped. “But you’re sitting in the back.”
Jacques resisted an eye roll as he waited for Celine to hop on the front, then settled himself among the abundance of dresses and accessories for the catwalk. Some stray feathers got under his nose, causing him to sneeze. He started inspecting the outfits.
“Mon Dieu, when you said you had entered a fashion competition I didn’t imagine such elaborate work. Did you really make these yourself?”
Celine nodded, feeling something warm expand in her chest at the proud look on his face, but it was Bastien who said, “You haven’t seen anything yet, brother. Wait until we get to Maison Baudelaire.”