Chapter Nineteen #2
“No. My home is your home, Grandpa Henry. I mean that. Invite all the rock stars you want.” She took a step forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Now, go see Celeste. I know you’ve been itching to get over there.”
He hesitated. There was a heaviness to her, a strain in her voice. “Melanie? Are you all right?”
“Just fine. Now go.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, still uncertain about leaving her but desperate to get to Celeste. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Twenty minutes later, he was walking through the door of Celeste’s assisted-living home.
The receptionist buzzed him in with a smile, and he traced the now-familiar path to room 0-B.
He knocked, and when she opened the door, her blue eyes blazing, he felt breathless for a moment, just like he always had all those years ago whenever he’d seen her.
“Do I know you?” Celeste asked in French, staring at him.
His heart broke for the hundredth time since he’d returned to Paris. “You did once,” he replied in English. “And I’m determined that you will again. May I come in?”
Slowly, her eyes searching his face, she moved aside, and Henry stepped over the threshold.
Shelby sipped her latte, trying very hard to pretend to herself that she hadn’t just had the best sex of her life the night before, because that complicated everything.
“So?” Corinne said, staring at her across their table at the café down the block from their hotel. “How did it go with the bartender?”
Vanessa was focused on her, too, and Shelby squirmed under the intensity of their gazes.
“Um, good,” she said.
“ ‘Um, good’?” Corinne repeated with a laugh. “Shelb, you’ve got to give us more than that. This is your divorce party! Did you get laid?”
It sounded so crass when she said it like that.
“Yeah, I slept with Russ,” she said, pushing away thoughts of his body pressed against her, his lips on her skin.
But it was just a vacation fling, wasn’t it?
What did it matter that in the hours before he’d taken her to bed, he’d listened to her with such intensity and tenderness that she’d wanted to cry?
That he hadn’t judged her even when she’d told him about her infertility and her years of ups and downs with Brandon?
That he’d kissed her like she was a treasure to be valued, not a conquest to be won?
It had been perfect, but she’d be insane to think that there was any future with him.
“I knew it!” Corinne crowed, leaning in to fist-bump Shelby across the table. “Girl, you have to tell us everything.”
Shelby glanced at Vanessa, then back to Corinne, who was staring at her with wide eyes. “It was amazing, actually. We talked for hours and then we…” She trailed off, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.
“So why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Vanessa asked gently.
Corinne cut Vanessa a sharp glance. “She doesn’t look like that,” Corinne snapped. “Do you, Shelby? You’re just tired. From a night of amazing sex.”
“Right,” Shelby agreed, glancing at Vanessa, whose brow was creased with concern.
“Shelby?” Vanessa prompted, and then, to Shelby’s embarrassment, big fat teardrops were running down her face.
The waiter arrived with their breakfast order then: avocado toast for Vanessa; granola and yogurt for Corinne; and a croissant with jam for Shelby, who had just lost her appetite.
The waiter politely pretended not to see her heaving sobs before hurrying away.
Vanessa moved over to rub Shelby’s back.
“What is it, Shelb?” Vanessa asked, peering at her with concern.
Shelby hesitated. They were going to kill her. “Brandon,” she said in a near-whisper, because maybe if she said it quietly, it wouldn’t land as hard.
“Brandon?” Vanessa was staring at her. “I’m sorry, I could have sworn you just spoke the name we agreed never to say again.”
“Shelby, sweetie, we know he hurt you,” Corinne said. “But we’re here to forget about him, right?”
“And you just slept with the hottest Australian in Paris,” Vanessa said. “Why are we talking about Brandon?”
“He called me,” Shelby blurted out.
Vanessa and Corinne exchanged looks.
“What could that bastard possibly have to say to—” Vanessa said.
“He doesn’t want to get divorced,” Shelby interrupted. “He said he’d made a mistake. He said he’s still in love with me.”
The noise of traffic on the road beside the café seemed very loud in the stunned silence that followed.
“I’m sorry,” Vanessa said, rubbing her temples. “Brandon is still in love with you?”
Shelby sniffled. “That’s what he said.”
“And when exactly did he say this?” Vanessa asked.
“The night before last. When we were at that bar near Montmartre.”
“That’s the call you took outside while we were doing shots,” Corinne said, and Shelby nodded miserably. “Before you vanished on us.”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think he was serious.” Shelby quickly recapped the conversation about Brandon’s infertility and his breakup with his rebound while the other two women gaped at her. “He said he realized he was wrong and that he wants to try again with me.”
“And you believed him?” Vanessa asked.
“Honestly? Not really. I mean, it’s too little, too late, right?
And besides, I figured he was just lonely after his breakup.
” Shelby’s skin still crawled at the thought of him with someone else.
“I—I think it’s why I went to see Russ yesterday.
I needed to prove to myself that I’d moved on.
” She closed her eyes and let a surge of guilt wash over her.
She had dragged Russ into this mess with her, and that wasn’t fair.
“I figured I wouldn’t hear from Brandon again, honestly, until I saw him at the divorce hearing next week.
But… I woke up this morning to four voicemails from him. ”
The two other women exchanged glances again. “What did he say?” Corinne asked.
“The first three messages were all about how much he loved me and how he couldn’t stand to lose me.”
“And the fourth?” Corinne prompted.
“The fourth,” Shelby said slowly, still not believing it, “was him telling me that he’s on his way to Paris.”
The other women stared at her. “He’s coming to Paris?” Corinne repeated.
“I tried calling him back.” Shelby snuck a look at their shocked expressions and then dropped her gaze again. “But his phone’s off. It went right to voicemail. I—I think he’s already on a flight.”
“What are you going to do?” Vanessa asked.
“I don’t know.”
Corinne put a hand on Shelby’s arm. “Do you still love him?”
“I…” Shelby exhaled and looked at her lap. “Yeah. I think maybe I do.”
“But he hurt you,” Vanessa reminded her.
“I know,” Shelby said.
“But now that he’s changed his mind, it’s okay that he threw in the towel on your marriage?” Vanessa’s tone was gentle but firm. “It’s okay that he made you feel like the baby thing was all your fault? It’s okay that he got himself a new girlfriend before you were even divorced?”
“No,” Shelby said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “But he really sounded sorry. He even said he’s started seeing a therapist.”
Corinne snorted, and Vanessa gave her a warning look.
“All that matters is how you feel,” Vanessa said quickly. “Not how Brandon feels or whether or not he’s seeing a therapist for two seconds to impress you.”
“Is he coming to our hotel when he gets here?” Corinne asked.
“I didn’t tell him where we were staying.”
“Um, I may have,” Corinne said in a small voice.
Shelby blinked at her. “You what?”
Corinne hung her head. “When he couldn’t reach you last night, he called me to make sure you were okay. I, um, told him where to find us. I thought he was going to send flowers or something, not get on a plane.”
Shelby put her head in her hands as Vanessa hissed at Corinne that she should have stayed out of it.
“So, what are you going to do?” Corinne asked after a moment.
Shelby sighed. She could still smell Russ’s cologne on her, could still feel his hands on her body. Was it the magic of being with someone new? Or was it the way things were supposed to feel when a man’s motives were pure and true?
Things with Brandon were so tangled, and she’d been so hurt by him.
But he was her husband, at least for the time being.
If he was willing to try again, didn’t he deserve another chance?
Wasn’t that the right thing to do? Her mother would certainly tell her it was.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly, checking her watch.
“I think I should hear him out. I owe him at least that.”
“The only person you owe is yourself,” Vanessa said.
“Maybe he really is sorry,” Corinne said tentatively. “He must really love you, Shelby.”
“Maybe.” Shelby was silent for a moment as she thought about how frustrated Brandon had grown with her in the last year of their marriage because she wasn’t exactly who he wanted her to be—and how Russ, in contrast, had seemed to accept the good, the bad, and the ugly about her without batting an eye.
Still, was it fair to compare something new to a marriage that had spanned a decade and a half?
Didn’t all marriages go through ups and downs? “Maybe,” she said again.
Corinne nodded, but Vanessa’s expression remained impassive as she looked up at the gray storm clouds rolling in overhead. “Looks like rain,” she said.
“We should get our check,” Corinne replied, looking around for the waiter as the first raindrop fell.
“What are you going to do about the cute bartender?” Vanessa asked.
“I—I should probably tell him that my life is too complicated right now,” Shelby said. “That I shouldn’t get involved.”
“Is that what you want?” Vanessa asked.
“It’s not like there was a future with him, anyhow,” she said, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. And with that, the sky opened up, shedding teardrops from above, like the city itself was mourning Shelby’s words.