Chapter 33 Connor
CONNOR
The team chant pounds in my ears. It ain’t over ‘til we’ve won. Even though Cateline and Gaston looked like the perfect pair when they danced briefly—he’s tall and statuesque and she’s petite and made of smooth lines—and are probably meant to be together, I’m going to crush the guy.
After he made his move on Cat, he turned to me like he was ready to brawl before his friends lugged him away. All I see is red, but without Cat in sight to stop me, I’m going to track him down and...
A slender figure with dark hair streaks into my periphery. Someone in pink chases her while aiming a stream of something white in her direction. I blink a few times, trying to make sense of the strange scene. Is this some kind of French engagement tradition?
Cat does a lap around the yard, then rushes toward me and hollers, “Call her off. I didn’t mean to come between you.”
Frozen with confusion, from the other direction, a thick figure barrels into our midst before dodging me. Gaston races toward the river while the woman continues to chase Cat, spraying what I think is shaving cream.
Guests holler in French, but I can’t understand a word of it. Some cheer while others shake their fists. This must be a foreign custom. Maybe?
“What’s going on?” I ask, hoping someone can translate.
An older woman with slick silver hair and glasses pinching the end of her nose says, “Lover’s quarrel.” Her accent is thick.
“That’s what I was afraid of, but I don’t understand why Gaston is running away from Cat.” At least, that’s what it looks like.
“Ah, yes, you’re the lucky American gentleman. Regrettably, I was late arriving and missed the announcement.” She looks me up and down.
By my estimate, she’s barely five feet tall, but her smile is as tall as a cathedral’s spire.
“The football player?” she asks.
“That’s me.”
She makes a slight grunting sound of consternation. “Then you may as well know a bit about the family.” Even though she has a strong accent, her English is perfect. Then I notice her dark, sharp eyes.
“Are you Cateline’s grandmother?”
“Non. I was her very first ballet teacher when she still wore a smile on her face with every arabesque. Sadly, that faded the more her mother pushed her. She lost the love for it, I’m afraid.
But she was quite the talent. My best student, and not only because she was perfect. She also had the most fun.”
“I’ve never seen her dance.”
“Oh, it is a sight to behold. A gift for the senses, really.”
“It’s too bad she doesn’t still dance.”
“Yes, indeed. Dauphin—Cateline’s mother—and her sister were fiercely competitive in everything. I don’t know why—same parents, same upbringing. They say every child comes with their own personality. Dauphin is stubborn, envious, bitter.”
“Yeah, I can relate.”
“You have children?” she asks, surprised.
“No, my brother and I, major rivals.”
“Ah, then you understand the situation. However, it’s only Dauphin that carries on the competition. It hasn’t been easy for Cateline. I don’t think she always realizes what she’s worth. Do you?”
“Yes, she’s worth the sun, moon, and stars. Everything.”
The older woman laughs. “You sound like a poet, not a football player.”
“I’m about to be a referee. It looks like The Pink Lady started a food fight. Is this customary at French engagement parties?”
She presses her hand to her chest and chuckles. “Mon cher, non. I think we’re watching a dramatic love triangle play out.”
What Cateline called a lorry when we were driving through the countryside, and I’d refer to as a truck, pushes a very small car covered in shaving cream toward the river. Gaston chases it, hollering in French.
The Pink Lady has abandoned her shaving cream and throws food at Cat, who dodges chunks of bread and cheese. The lady shrieks in a language that isn’t French, at least that I can tell.
I rush toward Cateline, but the grass is slick from the shaving cream and I slide under the table. Cateline’s ankles peek from under the cloth. I don’t want to startle her by grabbing one, so I lift the fabric and gesture that she come under to hide.
Yes, it’s silly and juvenile, but I am out of my league, a stranger in a strange land.
Cateline scowls at me. “Call her off.”
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“How am I supposed to know who she is? I can’t even understand her.”
“Obviously, she knows you, Wolf.”
“Wolf? Not Monsieur Wolfe or Mr. Wolfe. Now I’m just Wolf?”
Dishware clatters nearby and a few people speak in frantic French. The table jostles and I realize this is ridiculous. I get to my feet at the same time I realize what Cateline must believe is going on.
“You think she’s after you because of me?”
“Why else would she be chasing me?”
My mouth opens and closes. “I don’t know. But I’ve never seen her before.”
“She’s been spraying me with shaving cream. That seems like something you’d be involved in.”
“Like a prank?” I ask as an olive bops me in the head.
Tugging Cateline with me, I duck behind a tree.
“She keeps saying something in Italian about a cat and fur.” Cateline shivers. “I think she wants to shave my head.”
I smooth my hand through her shaving cream-streaked hair. “Cateline, if I were involved, how would the woman have found me? How could I have orchestrated a prank this elaborate on such short notice?”
“You’re you.”
“I know, I know, I’m the king of pranks, but not even I could’ve pulled this off, given the intricacies and all the moving parts, what with the man in the truck pushing a car covered in shaving cream into the river.”
Cateline looks over my shoulder toward the water and winces. “Fair point.”
“And I’d hardly call it a prank, more like a soap opera.”
“It’s beyond dramatic.”
“And I’m going to guess The Pink Lady is upset with Gaston for rushing to you upon your return and filling his car, inside and out, with shaving cream.”
Cat’s lips part and she nods with understanding. “And that’s why she was chasing me. But what about the man in the lorry, pushing Gaston’s car into the river?”
“My guess is he is Mr. Pink Lady and is upset with his wife.”
She gasps. “That’s diabolical. It’s going to go viral.”
“And that’s our cue to scram, skedaddle.”
Cateline’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “That means to get the heck out of here. I can’t afford another scandal. I mean, I can afford the lawyers, just not the headache or getting put on probation again.”
She nudges my shoulder with hers. “Come on, it didn’t turn out that bad.”
“That’s a fact. Want to go get a cheeseburger and milkshake? Do you have those here?”
Her expression lightens with laughter. “I think we can make that happen.”
As we sneak around the side of the house, Cateline’s mother spots us and calls her daughter over.
“I’ll be right here,” I say, leaning against our rental car and hoping The Pink Lady doesn’t have any more shaving cream.
The two exchange heated words and then Cateline storms toward me.
“It was a mistake to come here,” she says.
“Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Her eyes are slivers of disgust. “Come on. We need to talk.”
Whereas earlier, I felt sparks all over when with Cat, now they’re just cooling embers. The guests murmur as they shuffle toward their cars with The Pink Lady screaming in a language that isn’t French.
“Are you okay?”
Cat doesn’t answer.
“Are we okay?” I ask, worried that she still thinks I’m somehow involved with The Pink Lady. I’m not. Never seen the woman in my life.
Cateline stands stiffly, like she’s not sure where to go or what to do, but she won’t look at me.
I’m not okay. But it isn’t my body that aches.
No, it’s the center of my chest. “After the kiss we shared by the water, I thought you wanted to be with me. After witnessing you and Gaston dancing and the game of chase, it looked like you wanted to patch things up with your old flame. Which is it, Cat?”
This sets Cateline on fire. Eyes wide and mouth sharp, she shouts in French.
“I’m confused.”
“You are all the same. All of you cavemen!”
“Who’s the same? Gaston is an arrogant brute. I’m more of an arrogant beast. There’s a difference,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
“I need to go,” Cateline whispers, grasping at the threads of her composure.
The plan was to stay here tonight, but we get in the car, if only for a quiet place to talk. At least that’s what I thought she wanted to do, but she remains quiet. Stubbornly quiet. I set aside my ego, because more than anything, I want to fix this.
“Cat, I’m afraid I came on too strong, asking your parents for your hand in marriage.
I shouldn’t have sprung the marriage proposal on you like that.
I thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do.
..and I have to admit, when the Gaston guy showed up, I felt jealous, possessive, and afraid that you’d go along with what your parents wanted if I didn’t act fast. I don’t regret it, but maybe I should’ve handled it differently—perhaps talked to you first.”
She remains silent.
I let out a long sigh. “I thought you wanted to talk?”
“It turns out the embassy has been sending my parents letters about my expiring work visa, thinking they could get the notifications to me when I hadn’t replied. They have an immigration official coming tomorrow.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means they’re trying to sabotage us. That means they know about the green card. That means everything is falling apart.”
“They can try. They won’t succeed.”
“You don’t understand. Earlier, I heard my mother talking to Gaston’s mother. She said something about you being a famous football player who’ll bring her much wealth. Then she said something about me ending up with Gaston and that she’ll see to it.”
“That is diabolical.”
“It’s revenge. I’ve been caught. It’s over.” She presses her hands to her eyes. “I can no longer run away. I can’t return to Concordia, to my life.”
I scramble to reassure her that it will all work out, but she shakes her head slowly. Then I belatedly realize I’m not included in her future. I lean back in the chair. “Right. I see.”
Of course, a woman as beautiful, lovely, smart, and talented as Cateline would have a plan for her life, never mind a line of suitors waiting for her. It wasn’t only Gaston who eyed her and seemed pleased by her return. Countless men kissed her on each cheek and seemed to glow in her presence.
I’m so foolish. By falling for her, I broke my own personal playbook rules.
Never get serious.
Never get involved.
Never let things go past a first date.
I was ready to give her the world and all the stars in the sky. But I’m just a poor kid from a cabin. A caveman. Single by choice. A lone wolf.
Who am I kidding? I’m not someone a woman like Cateline would want—not that I can fathom what she could see in a guy like Gaston either. But I do understand her drive for success and her career.
I’m probably better off forgetting about her and focusing on mine.