Chapter Seven
Juliet
I finish my meal still disbelieving that I’m actually seeing Marcel again. The vegan duck is to die for and I love just being with him. He has a sexy, powerful energy that’s hard to resist.
Truthfully, I didn’t think about birth control when we had sex.
I am so stupid. I’ve never wanted to take hormones or needed birth control so I was hoping to use a condom or the pull-out method.
Since Marcel says he isn’t sure he pulled out in time, I might be in trouble, but I’ll never see him again, so he’ll never know if I have his baby.
The truth of the matter is what’s done is done.
If I’m pregnant I’ll parent our child. If I'm not, I’ll have dodged a bullet.
Marcel says he doesn’t want children so he won’t have them: problem solved.
While it's stupid and irresponsible, my family has some money and I can make it work. My Gran would like nothing better than for me to have a kiddo; she’s been waiting for years. So, when I told Marcel it’s not a problem it’s not really, not his problem at least.
He brings me to his suite which is magnificent.
It isn’t just a room—it’s a page out of an architectural digest magazine with sleek polished wood floors, leather armchairs, and a king-size bed that looks far too inviting.
Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the city lights peeking through dark ominous snow clouds and blizzard conditions; it’s treacherous like something out of a nightmare.
I set my bag down carefully; afraid I might scuff the perfection of it all.
“Wow, are we still in the airport?” I am astonished by the amount of wealth and privilege Marcel has.
“Yes, this is pretty typical for an airport suite, very run of the mill. You should see the ones in Europe,” he says off handedly like I’ll ever get that opportunity.
Marcel tosses his jacket on the armchair like he owns the place. He flashes me one of his sly, know-it-all grins.
“I forgot to offer my congratulations, Juliet. You’ve officially joined the mile-high club. A club I must admit I’ve been a member of since I was nineteen years old.”
“Wait, you had sex on a plane when you were nineteen?” I flop onto the fancy leather couch with my mouth hanging open.
“Yes, with the ex-witch. It was a very tight fit; we didn’t have a suite. Instead we were in one of the bed chairs in first class, but we were the only ones apart from a sleeping elderly couple.”
He laughs and all I can think of is how?
“Do I even want to know?” I giggle thinking of how sophisticated we were in a bed in a private room.
“We had a blanket and her puffer jacket—that helped to conceal us, but I’m pretty sure the flight attendants knew we were getting ... close.”
“Oh, ew! Marcel, that’s kind of horrible.” I mean yuck if the flight attendants knew.
“We were young and dumb,” he says with a shrug. “All of the other times have been in airplane suites.”
That hits me like a gut punch.
“With seatmates wearing baby vomit?” I joke, realizing how little I must mean to him.
“No.” He gets serious for a moment. “No one has been like you.”
I think I might cry, but I don’t want to be emotional, I’ve cried too much.
“Thanks, Marcel.” I know he’s just appeasing me, but I appreciate the effort. “But the sex probably sucked for you since you’re used to women who know how to ... have fun.” Ugh, I hate feeling insecure.
His eyes cut to mine, sharp, and pointed as he leans forward. “Juliet, I had fun.”
But there’s something in his tone, a little too quick and a little too practiced.
“I hope so.” Is all I say.
“I’d be down for another go if you are ...”
I can’t even think of having sex again. I’m still sore and I have a lot of complicated feelings around having sex with a random stranger. But Marcel doesn’t feel like a stranger, he feels like home, oddly, but he’s not and never will be so I pull up my big girl panties and face him.
“I should probably get some sleep. I can hunker down on the couch if you want, but I think I might fall in love with you if we have sex again. You’re very good, you should be so proud.” I am mostly kidding.
“Oh, well, thank you.” He pretends to puff up. “But I am not someone who you fall in love with or should ever consider marriageable ... is that a word?”
“I know your ex wife hurt you, but you really never want to find love again?” I find it hard to believe that he wouldn’t want to have a partner in his life.
“I don’t want to be attached to anyone ever again, ma chérie. Having sex with you tonight was lovely and all I hope is that it was good for your first time.”
“If—and we are just talking hypothetically here—you found the right girl ... and I’m not fishing for me to be that girl, because I already know you and I don’t fit. But if you were to find the right woman, who would she be?” I am so curious to hear who a man like Marcel’s dream lover might be.
“She would be you,” he says and sounds serious.
“You don’t know me and you don’t like vegans,” I counter by being argumentative. “And I don’t like Grinches.” I jut out my chin, though I do like Marcel, despite the difference in our ages. He has a playful spirit and he’s mature, elegant, and fucking gorgeous.
“Grinches,” he playfully frowns and then turns the tables on me. “Who is your ideal man?”
“Well, he isn’t perfect. He’s kind, friendly, and adventurous. And, yeah, probably—not most likely—a vegan. Someone who cares about the world.”
Marcel’s expression hardens but he tries to cover it with a smile. “He doesn’t have to be vegan. In fact, your man might end up being the complete opposite of you.”
My cheeks heat, thinking of Marcel being that man. “Maybe.”
Silence thickens between us until he breaks it with a smirk, his voice dipping low.
“So, no second round?”
I shake my head, biting my lip. “I’m ... sore. Honestly, I need to sleep, tomorrow is probably going to be a crazy day. I mean it, I can take the couch—” I gesture toward the massive leather sectional. “Or, you know, I can just wander back through the airport and find a nice patch of floor.”
He makes a gruff noise that is a cross between a growl and a huff, clearly not liking the idea of me going back into the airport. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll sleep here. And if you just want to sleep ... that’s all we’ll do.”
I’m surprised he doesn’t push for more. Instead, he gets up and goes to the bar and gets two glasses of water from the water dispenser. Handing me a glass, he nudges me toward the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.
“Use the bathroom and get ready for bed. It’s nearly two in the morning, you must be exhausted.”
“Thank you.” I give him a loving smile as he heads to the thermostat and adjusts the temperature.
“I mean it, Marcel, thank you for everything. I never expected to have such a ... well um ... adventure. It’s a Christmas miracle.
” I’m teasing with the last bit, taking it just a little too far for a laugh.
“Oh, Mon Dieu. Christmas miracle.” He walks over to me and kisses my forehead. “You’re one of a kind, Juliet Limons.” He then slaps my ass. “Go get ready for bed.”
Soft music hums through hidden speakers when I come out of the bathroom dressed in my real pajamas which are sleep shorts and another camisole. I tuck myself into bed giving Marcel as much room as I can. My body melts into the duvet and mattress.
Marcel sighs when he sees me as if he wants more of what I have to offer. Denying his desires, he turns off the light without another word. His silhouette is faint in the shadows.
“Good night,” I say and before I know it, he walks to my side of the bed and kisses my lips.
“Sweet dreams, ma chérie.” As much as I want to stay awake and savor that kiss, I drift off to sleep, spinning fantasies where he isn’t this guarded, wounded man but my husband, holding me through the night to wake up to forever.
When I open my eyes again, pale morning light spills across the room.
I look over to see that Marcel is still asleep.
I’ve never seen him sleeping—he looks peaceful and innocent.
I could caress his cheek and kiss him, pretend that last night wasn’t temporary; but it was only one night and now it’s time to say our final goodbyes.
I carefully get out of bed and use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and change into a fresh pair of clothes. There’s a heaviness in my heart, but I try to ignore it. When I emerge from the bathroom, Marcel is already dressed, tie knotted, and putting on shoes that are polished to a high shine.
“Good news. The weather’s cleared. I can make my meeting and I am only a day late.” He seems giddy like a little boy.
My heart falls a little because, well, one more night snowed in at the airport wouldn’t have killed us, but the more attached to him I get, the harder it will be to let go so I buck it up like a good little elf and smile.
“Thanks Grinch. This has been fun,” I say, being cheeky cause I know it makes the Grinch cringe.
He grabs his watch and his phone. “Ha ha, very funny. I’m going to get breakfast to go, but they have a nice buffet with several options.
I'm sure they can make you something. Do you know how you’re getting home yet?
Are you booking another flight? I think as long as you stay in the lounge, you can remain here.
As soon as you leave they may not let you back in.
Do you want me to call the airlines and see if we can get you on a flight to Rhode Island?
” He’s talking so fast, it’s hard to catch all he’s saying.
“Someone is coming to pick me up. All the flights out today are full.” I flash him a big fat fake grin.
While I was on the toilet I texted my cousin who lives in Connecticut to see if he could let me crash at his place until the roads clear and he’s totally excited. He lives only twenty minutes from the airport, so he’s on his way.
“Fantastic,” Marcel says, but it’s equally as fake.
My heart sinks even as I nod.
“Yeah. So, breakfast to go it is.” I give a little fist bump and fight off tears. “And ... this is goodbye?”
Marcel’s eyes soften just a little, but his voice stays cool and clipped. “Juliet, as much as I’ve enjoyed the fairytale ... this is the end of the story.” Ouch.
“Okay, Grinch. It was good knowing you. Thanks for the roll in the hay,” I say with a smile and head for the door acting like my heart isn’t breaking.
“Here, I’ll walk you out.”
I’m not sure what that means, out of the room? Out of the fancy ‘only rich people can be in here’ part of the airport? Out of the airport? Out of my life?
I guess I’ll soon find out.
I let him open the door and I follow until we finally part ways.