Chapter 6
Six
CLARA
I t took my parents a week after I told them Drew and I broke up before they decided to check in on their ‘petit macaron’ in person.
They had called to say that they were popping around to pick up the spare bridesmaid dress that they were going to drive to France as a precaution for lost luggage. A task that they said they would do the day before they left.
They were nine days early.
My parents’ relationship remained one of the only reasons I believed in romantic soulmates. A chance encounter at a university in Montreal when my dad, Darren, did a year abroad led to a whirlwind romance. Then a long-distance one, and eventually the power of love made my mum, Vivienne, turn her four-year absence from Martinique for school into a permanent one. She left for London the day after she graduated from university. I’d never known them to get petty in their arguments or ice each other out. They were big on communication, which irritated me to no end when I was growing up, but it served me well as an adult. If you just ignored the fact that I did not transfer any of those communication skills to my relationship.
They were a pretty great example of what love should be. They were part of the reason I wrote love stories.
Growing up in that environment might have been why I had clung to my first love so much. But that wasn’t on them. Any pressure I felt about finding my one true love as early as possible was all on me.
“Before you ask, I’m fine,” I said in French as soon as I opened the door and saw them standing on the other side of it.
Mum smiled, her brown eyes warm, as she pulled me into a hug. “You look tired though, sweetheart,” she replied in her mother tongue, her voice partially muffled by my hair.
“My tiredness predates the break-up, Mum. I am fine,” I said as she released me from the hug but held onto my shoulders to make sure I couldn’t get away as she studied my face.
“Are you finally going to tell us what happened?” she asked.
“Do you want to come in for that conversation, or are we having it out here in the open?” I teased as Mum released me, and both my parents stepped into my flat.
They removed their shoes, matching low tops, and put them on the shoe rack before beelining for the kitchen. I followed them.
The kitchen was silent once all of us had settled into our various positions. Dad was leaning against the fridge, me a counter, and Mum sat down on a stool. I could feel the weight of both their stares on me as they waited for me to speak.
“First of all, I guess you should know that I was going to ask Drew to marry me.” I was looking at Dad as I dropped that piece of information, and I saw the shock register in the green eyes my sister inherited from him.
“You were?” Mum asked, her voice soft.
I shifted my gaze to her. She didn’t look shocked. It was worse than that, she looked hurt that she was only just finding out. I looked down at the countertop and focused on her rich brown hands resting there, gold rings reflecting the afternoon sun.
“Yeah, it seemed like a good idea. It seemed like the thing I was supposed to do, and there are no rules about asking a man to marry you. I thought he might kind of like it.”
“Did you want to, though?” Mum asked gently. I looked back up. The hurt was gone, replaced with concern, but also maybe a little bit of relief.
“Marry him? Yeah, I thought I did. People were always asking when we were going to get married. It seemed like the next logical step, and he was nice to have around, so why wouldn’t I marry him?”
“Well, you called us to say you weren’t together anymore, so what happened?” Dad asked, his voice just as gentle as his wife’s.
I sighed. “He thwarted my proposal plans. Said it was better that way because he didn’t want that. Marriage. Or me. I wasn’t the person he fell in love with. He wasn’t wrong. He isn’t wrong. I’m not. If I was, then him leaving would have made me feel like the world had ended. But it’s been a week since he left, and the earth is still spinning, and I am doing just fine.”
Dad left his position and walked around to my side of the island, wrapping an arm over my shoulders and pulling me into his side. Despite us both now clearing six feet, I still fit against him perfectly, and I wrapped both my arms around his waist.
“You are missing a sofa, though,” Dad said quietly, nodding to the space in my living room that I was still mad about.
I laughed as I extracted myself from his side. “I should have given him a list. I guess I’m the idiot for not explicitly saying, ‘Don’t take my furniture’. I’ll get a new one after the wedding.”
“Are you going to be okay seeing him there?” Mum asked, joining my other side and taking my hand in hers, a clash of gold and silver rings the only sound in the quiet of the room.
That was the million-dollar question. “I think so, yes. Won’t know for sure until we get there. Maybe it will all fall apart when I see him again, who knows?”
There were three knocks on the door.
“You expecting someone?” Dad asked, switching to English automatically.
“Yeah, Jesse. I’m trying to get as much writing done as possible before the wedding so I can actually enjoy it, and he’s helping keep me accountable,” I said, also in English, as I wandered to the door.
“And how is he doing that?” Dad asked.
“Just his very presence will be enough to get me to work. It gets exposing when someone witnesses your procrastination,” I said just before I opened the door. There were twin looks of… something on my parents’ faces, but I didn’t have time to figure them out before I opened the door.
“Hey, Jesse.”
“Hey yourself. You okay?” he asked as he walked into the flat.
“No complaints. You?” I closed the door.
“I feel like I need a hug.” His smile was gentle, and I didn’t hesitate to step into his open arms and wrap mine around his waist.
I wasn’t a hugger for the most part. I mean, I hugged people I knew, but it wasn’t something that I did as standard, and the people around me didn’t expect them of me. However, Jesse had been hugging me a lot more these days, and I found I craved his hugs the more I got them. They were a solid thing that pressed me against his body and grounded me. I inhaled and let the warmth of his cologne flood my senses. Jesse always smelled like a good old fashioned, and contentment settled into my bones as I exhaled against him.
“I didn’t realise your parents were here.” I felt the rumble of his voice against me before I heard it.
“Yeah, they’re here to collect something,” I said as I pulled out of the hug, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist as I turned to look at my parents now standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Dad had an arm over Mum’s shoulders, their hands joined.
“Good to see you, Jesse,” Dad said.
“Good to see you both,” Jesse replied.
“We were just about to head out,” Mum said.
I reluctantly pulled out from Jesse’s side. “I’ll go get that dress then.”
When I came out of my bedroom, my parents were by the door, and they were watching Jesse as he comfortably moved around my flat. There was an inquisitive look on both of their faces, but when they noticed my return, it disappeared, so I couldn’t even call them out on it.
“Here you are,” I said, handing over the black garment bag.
“Merci,” Mum said as she took the dress and kissed me on both cheeks. Dad gave me one final quick hug before they left.
“Do you want a coffee now, or should it be your prize for finishing a chapter?” Jesse called from the kitchen.
“Coffee now,” I replied.