Chapter 16
I can”t stayat home anymore.
Between Corentin”s sister”s wedding and Lucas” proposal, I chose to go to the agency, even with the option to work remotely. However, Lola is always around, and Manille is in the middle of a decorative crisis—I”m not even sure if that”s a thing—since she completed setting up my office. That”s the reason I included her in the contract with Lucas. And Charlotte, let”s not even discuss it. Charlotte is grappling with an existential crisis since she finished reading The Hate You Give by Angie Thomas. I”ve observed her being moved by books before, but not to this extent.
She wants me to read them so we can discuss them, but that”s out of the question. My brain is already suffering, and I don”t want to make it worse. For me, it”s nothing. I can”t be at home anymore without seeing over and over again my kiss with Corentin, followed by the memory of my masturbation a few hours later.
I”m avoiding Corentin, not permanently, but only long enough to regain control of my emotions, which are sending me sailing into a stormy sea. I didn”t say anything to the girls, but they understood perfectly well there was a problem. I”m careful when I go out and come back into the apartment.
A real ordeal.
Okay, maybe I”m exaggerating a little. There are certainly worse sufferings, but this man haunts my nights as much as my days. I”ve got two contracts to manage, and I can”t afford to have my head in the clouds. So, my office has become my sanctuary. I spend my nights here, convinced it”s better than going home and doing nothing. I can cut myself off from any distractions, might slow down my work. My time is precious, and I can”t afford to waste it unnecessarily.
I hang up with a group of musicians with whom I”ve scheduled a meeting, and I sigh in relief. The tight deadline makes things much more complex than I would have thought. All that”s left is to confirm everything with Clara and Naisha, and it”s a done deal. I”m determined to prove myself. élise is proud of me for Lucas”s case, maintaining her caution not to let myself be engulfed by work.
It reminds me to check out the decoration Manille prepared for my coach”s proposal and my future brides. It amuses me to see Manille complaining about having nothing to do, even with the contracts piling up on her desk. She”s efficient, but I find it hard to believe she”s already finished. We still need to get the clients” approval before finalizing the quote. Even with my blind trust in her, I am the spokesperson for the future brides. I know their tastes; I know what they desire or don”t. I must ensure their wishes are respected and they feel heard.
I gaze up at Manille”s empty desk, remembering she”s in a meeting with a florist she”s considering as a vendor. The last one kept letting her down. Charlotte is at work, and I have no one to talk to.
There”s Corentin,” my conscience whispers.
No, he is the source of my troubles. I can”t talk to him, even with him being the main person involved. On the other hand, I haven”t dared to inform the girls about my heart issues.
Heart issues?No, it”s not right. My heart is doing fine on its own; it doesn”t need to cling to anyone. Anyway, I don”t want to talk to them about it because admitting they were right about our friendship is something I can”t accept.
Since our kiss, we haven”t spoken. He tried, but I didn”t respond to any of his attempts. I”ll have to do it, though, because the idea of not having Corentin in my life breaks my heart. It annoys me to have given him so much space in my life, now feeling a void. I need to take charge of the situation, but I don”t know how to broach the subject or how to regain our old friendship.
Feeling my brain overheating, I take a break and grab a magazine.
“Sorry, Tom Hiddleston, but today you”ll have to wear demon horns,” I joked.
“Pathetic!”
Cécile”s voice cuts sharply through the room, jolting my head upward. Our eyes lock, and a surge of adrenaline rushes through me as my heart pounds in my chest. She stands with her arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. Shame spreads through me, tinting my cheeks a bright red. I know she”ll gossip about this during the coffee break, likely to undermine my reputation. Quickly, I close the magazine. Cécile rolls her eyes and strides into my office. It”s frustrating that I can”t even find peace in my own space. Since I took over managing my contracts, I”ve barely seen her. It”s clear she hasn”t taken the news well. élise hasn”t mentioned anything, but after a year, I know Cécile well enough to understand she”s struggling to accept it.
“You seem busy,” she ironizes. “Don”t you have a wedding to plan? You know, the one you went crying to élise about.”
Ouch.The line hurts me. It stabbed me right in the heart, hitting me where it hurts. That”s why I didn”t want anyone to know about my relationship with élise. All that”s in it for me is that I come across as an immature little girl who couldn”t handle criticism and went to complain about a career move. I want to prove myself without relying on anyone else.
“I didn”t go and cry in her arms.”
It”s an answer escaping me, despite my efforts to remain calm. I should have let it go, but it seems I like to get into trouble! Since when did I allow myself to answer? Normally, I prefer to remain silent and endure. It hurts, but at least feigning indifference allows me to end this exchange more quickly. Now I”ve walked right into the trap, and I have no emotional resources to back me up.
How I wish my friends were here! I could have drawn on their courage to try to put her in her place. At least, in theory. Right now, I”ll take whatever she throws at me and hope my heart doesn”t end up too flayed.
“So, what did you do? I mean, you have no experience, and you”re certainly not qualified for the job. It”s got to be a mistake.”
Whose fault is it? I ask myself the question.
Jaw and fist clenched, I try to remain placid. She hits the nail on the head, and even with me keep telling myself she”s wrong, I deserve this opportunity, doubt creeps back in. The little voice reminds me I”m a hair”s breadth away from failure. I am exactly what she says I am. A mistake.
Was it correct for élise to assign me this case? Considering she”s Corentin”s sister, failing would be a burden I might find difficult to accept. Cécile is right, I don”t possess the same level of talent as she does. Regardless of whether I acknowledge it, she”s the most accomplished wedding planner in the field. That”s why I became her assistant to learn from the best, even if her teaching hasn”t yielded significant results.
“What do you want?” I said, my self-esteem hurt.
There”s a purpose behind her visit to trouble me. She wouldn”t make such an effort for just this reason. I ponder why she is so determined to undermine me. I am certainly not, and will not become, a threat to her. Perhaps she aims to exploit my vulnerability and crush me like a bug for her own amusement.
“I”m here to get you to sign the activity proposal for next week”s company trip. You remember it, don”t you?”
“Of course,” I said, shrugging my shoulders to hide my embarrassment.
It”s a lie, but I”d like to avoid appearing even more incompetent. I”m already at everyone”s mercy for not much, so now, admitting I couldn”t even recall it, she”s going to shoot me down. I should have remembered, especially after being traumatized by the one last year. The aim was to strengthen cohesion between colleagues, to form a team, but offering a paintball session was the worst decision.
These were a few weeks after my arrival, and witnessing my colleagues hurling projectiles at each other as if they were at war was unnecessary. I was so sore all over, especially in my buttocks, preventing me from sitting down. Charlotte had to take care of Manille and me, as we couldn”t move a muscle without feeling pain.
The horror!
I hope the directors have considered a better option this year, otherwise I”m clearly not going.
“What are they offering this year?” I asked apprehensively.
Her big smile doesn”t reassure me at all, and the memory of last year stings my buttocks.
Kill me now, please.
“An escape game in the middle of nature, in the forest to be precise. And don”t worry, you won”t feel any pain this time.” She slides out the sheet already filled with signatures. “You don”t have to accept, but I think with or without your approval, we”ll do it.”
I pick up a pen and, with my dark eyes fixed on her, I finally sign. I might as well accept my fate. Cécile glares at me with a disdain, revealing a lot about her feelings toward me. I”d like to get up from my chair and wrap my fingers around her neck, but not only don”t I have the courage to do that, there”s no way I”m going to end up in prison because of this viper.
“I”ll leave you to your doodling. That”s all you”re good at anyway.”
I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand as she proudly turns her back and closes the door behind her. Exhausted by this altercation, I collapse against the back of my armchair with one desire: for this day to be over as quickly as possible, even with a feeling it won”t be. I gather my things and leave the agency. My feet take me all the way to my building. I get inside, but my keys are nowhere to be found. In my frantic rummaging in my bag, my keyring has disappeared.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
My forehead against the red door, I”m angry at myself for being so absent-minded. Charlotte told me she”d misplaced hers, and I agreed to lend her mine, thinking I wouldn”t be going home tonight. Except after the incident with Cécile, I don”t feel like staying.
Great, now I”m stuck outside until the girls get home. I”ll be a while, so I might as well sit down. I get my things out and decide to work from here. Headphones in, I listen to some light music in the background and get back to work. As I”m writing an email to the owner of the venue where Lucas”s event will take place, I hear a voice. A voice I recognize all too well.
Corentin is here.
Which is normal since he lives in this building. My heart races in my chest as his voice draws closer. I hurriedly close my laptop and glance around, searching for somewhere to hide. Unfortunately, I can”t become invisible, no matter how much I”d like to.
Eyes fixed on the stairs; I wait for him to arrive.
“Yes, I understand, Clara. You keep repeating?—”
The flash of our second meeting in the hall, when I was moving my stuff, comes back to mind. A small smirk stretches my lips as he stands there, phone to his ear. The features of his face bear the trace of sadness. I can hear Clara on the other end of the receiver, but Corentin quickly puts an end to the conversation.
“I have to go.”
He doesn”t even let her finish her sentence, hanging up without breaking eye contact with me. Immediately, an electric shock runs through my body.
“I doubt Clara will accept you hung up on her.”
“She”ll get over it and I don”t care if she”s mad at me. What I care about is you.”
I melt, and without hesitation, I stand up on my feet. In a spontaneous movement, I rush to him and take him in my arms. My body presses against his, and I feel all the tension melt away. We stay like this for several seconds, then when I pull myself away to glance at him, I notice he”s in the same state as me.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it:
“I forgot my keys,” I said in a small voice.
I don”t want to broach the subject now, and he understands that. He plays along and nods.
“I have a flat screen.”
A smile stretches across my lips. We gather my things, then I follow him to his apartment, which is like a refuge where I can leave my worries behind. As soon as I cross the threshold, a wave of familiarity envelops me. It”s incredible how much this place makes me feel at home, almost as much as my own apartment.
My gaze glides over the shelves filled with carefully arranged books. Each book seems to tell a story, like Corentin himself. The carefully chosen furniture reflects his simple yet elegant aesthetic taste. I can”t help but smile as I catch sight of the flat-screen TV, proudly hanging on the wall. What for me was of no importance, is for Manille a must-have. The dark velvet curtains filter the beams of golden light. I settle on the beige sofa where we”ve shared so many conversations, laughs and precious moments. In this place, I can be myself, without artifice or masks. There are so many things I want to talk about with Corentin, so many questions need answering. But for now, I prefer to savor the moment, lulled by the comforting ambience of his apartment. On the coffee table, a barely begun cup of coffee betrays his hasty departure.
“Would you like a drink?” he whispers softly.
I nod, a modest smile forming on my lips.
“I”ve wondered why we became friends. What did you find so interesting about me? Why did you choose to spend your time with me, rather than Manille or Charlotte?”
He shrugs. “I asked myself the same question. Why you and not someone else? What did you have to change my life so much?” His answer takes me by surprise. It takes me several seconds to digest it as he continues. “I had a simple existence before I met you. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing animated me deeply enough to live without too many worries. I thought this routine was enough for me. Then you appeared and petrified me. I had no idea how to behave with you at first, to the point of asking Jackie and Clara for advice. I care a lot about you, Florence, even if I”m not the most expressive guy in the world.”
Touched to the core, I remain speechless, stunned by his confession.
I find it hard to believe this could be true. Yet the gentleness in his voice and the sincere gaze in his eyes confirm his sincerity. I clutch my bracelet between my fingers, overwhelmed by emotion. A silence settles between us, and only the hum of the coffee machine breaks our tranquility. I”m grateful he doesn”t remark on my excessive caffeine intake. He must possibly fear we”re walking on eggshells; everything can be broken if we”re not careful in putting the pieces of our friendship back together. I wonder if he realizes how crucial this moment is for me. Faced with this delicate exchange, I share my emotions with my best friend:
“Do you remember the second time we met?”
“The day you moved in. By the way, something is missing?—”
He gets up, disappears into the corridors of his apartment, and comes back to me, a bouquet of pink tulips in his hand, which he hands me as soon as he returns.
“I doubt I deserve them.”
“That”s because you don”t see yourself the way I do. In my eyes, you deserve all the tulips in the world.”
I smile fondly at this memory, and especially at his reply.
“You stayed all evening that day. I was so worried it would be a fleeting moment, we wouldn”t cross paths again. I kept a vigilant eye out whenever I ventured outside, anticipating a chance encounter with you. In those moments, I recognized my profound need for you and felt anxiety creeping in at the thought of losing you. You”re important to me, Corentin,” I admitted in a trembling voice.
“Florence.” His hands caress my temples, then he places a kiss on my forehead before holding me close. “I”m so sorry.”
“For?” I whispered against his ear.
“For the other night. I regret doing it.”
I sigh and curl up even more against his robust chest.
“I know you do.”
“You mean so much to me, and the thought of losing you terrifies me. You make me feel myself.”
His words warm my heart. Knowing our friendship is as powerful and important to him as it is to me brings me relief and fills me with joy.
“Forgive me, Florence, for the kiss and for everything else.”
I should have been happy to hear these words, yet a pang in my stomach emerges.
“What”s done is done, now we must forget. Let”s act as if the kiss is not a part of our history. It was a mistake we mustn”t repeat, okay?”
I say these words, acknowledging the pain they cause me, but I know it”s the best option. Anticipating his satisfaction with my decision, a shadow crosses his face, and, against all expectations, I perceive disappointment.
“Is it your desire?”
“Yes.” Even with the lie leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, I nod slightly to confirm a second time. “What about you?”
Strangely enough, I”d like him to tell me he”s not. I want him to grab me by the waist and kiss me passionately until I”m breathless. I crave the sensation of his hands exploring my body, and for him to sweep me away as he did on the previous night, fully conscious it would be a terrible idea. However, my question hangs in the air for a moment before he finally nods.
“Yes.”
“You”re the best friend I”ve ever had, and I”ll do everything in my power not to jeopardize our relationship. You contribute to my well-being, encouraging me to move forward and not give up, even when my pessimistic attitude gets the better of me. Thank you, Corentin, for believing in me when I can”t.”
“Always, Florence. I”ll never stop.”
I take him in my arms again, holding him tight.
“By the way, you haven”t told me about your date with Leo,” he asks me suddenly.
I frown. “His name is Lucas.”
“It”s all the same. How”d it go? I hope he was decent to you?”
I was surprised. I didn”t expect his interest, given his earlier reaction. I thought he”d prefer us to pretend nothing had happened, but I sense he wants to get off on the right foot again. So I seize the opportunity he hands me.
I”m about to tell him everything in detail when suddenly I remember my lie.
“Well, it was good.”