by Pratt, Lulu
I held the mic a few inches from my face as I watched her process. Rebecca was my sister. She was my friend. She was my family.
Could she be my wife?
After what seemed like ages, she mounted the steps to the stage, lifting her skirts to take one stair after another. Finally, she was standing before me, blushing like a bride.
“Hey, Xavier,” she whispered.
I scanned her face, looking for a hint beneath that implacable exterior. Was she happy about this?
I fingered the ring box which I’d secreted in the palm of my hand. It was a nice ring, I thought. Rebecca would be pleased. As Chloe had said, it was the kind of ring that would please anyone.
Chloe.
My mind came to a jarring halt, and time slowed. All the faces around me, looking up, the whites of their eyes showing awe and delight and a little envy, seemed to blur. Was this what it was like, to see your life flash before your eyes? Because images of Chloe filled my waking vision. Chloe in our restaurant, Chloe in the Comino Gallery, Chloe in bed with me. Once I was married, there was no turning back. I’d need to do my duty as a husband. I could never be with Chloe again.
The ring was in my hand, the world was watching, and suddenly, I knew I couldn’t do it.
“Rebecca—”
Her face slackened. Had she read the emotions flitting across mine, like some kind of cipher?
But instead she said, just loud enough to be audible in the mic raised to my mouth, “Xavier, I can’t go through with this.”
The room erupted in astonished whisper. I held Rebecca’s eyes as she mouthed, “Sorry.”
Out of the corner of my vision, Adam appeared, pushing past one person after another, not bothering with niceties. While Rebecca had taken her time coming to the stage, Adam forced his way through like a bulldozer.
He was with us moments after Rebecca’s declaration, taking the mic from my hand and turning it off.
“I think that’s enough of making our private life public,” he said through clenched teeth. Then, turning to his daughter, “Rebecca, what the hell do you mean? Everyone’s here to see this, to see you two get engaged.”
“I know, Daddy,” she said, raising her head high with what looked like pride. She was absolutely regal. “But I can’t. Xavier means so much to me.”
I put an arm around her shoulder, in part to reassure her and in part to turn her away from the prying crowd.
“You’re so important to me too,” I murmured.
“If you didn’t want to get married,” Adam said, trying to restrain his temper, “why on earth didn’t you say something before?
“Because I only changed my mind this morning, and I thought by then that it was too late.”
I puzzled over this. What could have changed just this morning? I, for one, had been having my doubts for months.
Adam voiced my same question. “What changed? This has been in the works for ages. For a lifetime.”
A smile began to grow on Rebecca’s face, one so beatific it threatened to blind the room with its dazzling glow.
She turned away from her father and me, slipping out from beneath my arm to take the mic back from where Adam had placed it. Rebecca scanned the crowd with her eyes before finally landing on what she seemed to be searching for. I tried to follow her eye line, but couldn’t make out who or what she was seeking in the crowd.
“This morning,” she said into the mic, tears like diamonds running down her face, “I found out I was pregnant with Marc’s baby.”
Uh.
What?!
At last, I saw that Rebecca had been looking directly at Marc, whose eyes went wide just before he collapsed to the floor.
And in that moment, all I could do was laugh. The laughter started as a quiet rumble in my belly, then spread up my throat and to my mouth, until I was laughing so loudly that I didn’t need a mic to be heard by the whole room. Though, in fairness, they couldn’t hear me over the roar of their own applause. The room had exploded with congratulations and toasts for the mother-to-be.
Rebecca just went on smiling and crying as people in the crowd helped Marc to his feet. I leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek, whispering, “I’m so happy for you, Rebecca.”
“You promise?” she asked nervously. “Honestly, Xavier, I never wanted to hurt you. You’re so, so important to me.”
“As a brother. Not as a husband.”
Her smile returned. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”
“Of course. I’m so glad you found each other. And congratulations on the baby. I can’t wait to meet your kid. I have dibs on godfather.”
“Deal.” She pulled me into a long hug, then whispered, “Now for fuck’s sake, go get Chloe.”
Her words sent lightning bolts down my back, but all I said was, “What?”
“You’re in love with her. I tried to tell myself that you weren’t, but you are, and I am so happy for you.”
“I’ve never heard you curse.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Go, Xavier. Before it’s too late.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I passed my Champagne glass to Adam, who looked at me with bewilderment.
“Here’s my glass,” I said. “I have to run. Make a toast for me, okay?”
“Xavier, I’m sorry it worked out like this. But I’m happy for my daughter.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re going to be a grandfather, and I’m gonna go get the girl of my dreams.”
Adam grinned broadly. “Atta boy. Where is she?”
“Paris.”
“Take my jet. Godspeed, Xavier.”
I gave him and Rebecca one final hug then ran out of the gala, not stopping to grab my coat before emerging onto the snow-drenched streets of New York.
“Chloe,” I shouted into the night. “I’m coming.”
CHAPTER 42
Chloe
I TUGGED MY jacket closer around me and adjusted the muff tighter around my ears.
Since getting pregnant, I found I was pretty susceptible to hot flashes, so I’d taken to long walks in the Parisian winter to cool off. It was certainly better than just leaving my fridge open and hoping that would take some of the sting out of the heat.
Besides, the Louvre looked beautiful drenched in snow.
White flakes covered every visible surface of the building, turning it into an ice palace fit for some mythical queen. Normally, Paris snow was light and blustery. Generally speaking, the stuff didn’t quite stick. But this year — maybe as a welcome present to me, the consummate New Yorker — the city had turned white.
I reached inside my coat to place a hand on my belly.
My baby kicked back in response.
“Bonjour,” I whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”
For a moment, my mind floated back to Xavier. What features of his would the baby have? His eyes? His sense of humor? His penchant for over-the-top gestures, such as the Botticelli painting.
The other plus about winter snows was that I was too bundled up for anyone to tell I was pregnant. This was only a blessing in that I’d grown tired of people fussing over me. I was pregnant, not elderly. I didn’t need people to carry my groceries back from the market or tell me traditional herbal remedies for my ails. Also? The whole thing where strangers rub your belly like you’re the Buddha? Not charming.
Glancing over to the east wing of the museum, I saw a crew of workers, toiling away on what appeared to be scaffolding.
Jeez, I thought, shaking my head, in this weather? It couldn’t possibly be safe. Maybe I would bring them some homemade soup if they were still there tomorrow. I had become, according to my sweet next door neighbor, very proficient at making soup. She was an actual elderly woman, and I frequently brought her cauliflower purée and minestrone, while she gave me freshly baked bread that was often still hot from her oven. She would give me feedback on the soups, offering slight course corrections. I had come to think of her as my mother abroad.
I strode to the staff door of the museum. It was easy to hide various entrances like these. There was a special one, reserved just for the Prime Minister and his guest, because the Louvre was so massive. Sure, every now and then a patron — usually an American, much to my dismay — would stumble in, but we’d just quickly push them back out and send them on their way.
But when I tugged on the handle, it didn’t open. Huh?
I tugged again.
It was one of the few days of the year when the Louvre “went dark,” so to speak. We occasionally instituted “holidays” at the museum so that we could hang new pieces and basically cycle through our enormous collection. But staff was definitely meant to come in on these days. In fact, the holidays were pretty much just for us to get work done during the day time, as opposed to coming in during the dead of night.
So what was going on?
I gave one more yank on the handle, then resigned myself to an embarrassing call with this wing’s building manager. I was sure he’d come over and immediately be able to pull open the door, thus cementing in everyone’s mind that I was, indeed, disabled by my pregnancy. That would be embarrassing, but oh well.
I huddled under the door’s minuscule overhang as a dial tone rang in my ear. Five rings later, and still no answer from Jean. Awesome.
“Mademoiselle?”
The voice pulled me out of my annoyance and back into the real world. I turned around and saw a man in a charming forest green suit standing only a few feet from me. He was dapper in the extreme, a little navy handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket and a gold watch chain attached to his pocket.
“Bonjour,” I said uncertainly. He didn’t work here. I would recognize a man that well-dressed.
“I’m looking for the Louvre,” he replied in English, and I was surprised to discover he had a British accent.
I gave a little laugh. “Well, sir, you’re standing right in front of it.” I gestured to the enormous structure behind me.
“Are you sure?” he pressed.
Uh… what? The Louvre was impossible to miss. I took a few steps to him, and then walked past him, until I was a good twenty yards from the building. I beckoned for him to come join me, and he did so.
“Okay, now look up,” I instructed.
He did as I told him, gazing up at the building. From this angle, it was impossible to deny the scope of the museum.
“This is the museum,” I said with finality. “However, it’s closed today, so perhaps you could come back tomorrow.”
“There’s supposed to be a big glass pyramid,” he countered.
“Yeah, it’s right over—” I turned to point him to the Louvre Pyramid, but stopped in my tracks when I realized that I couldn’t see it.
Was this some pregnancy-induced blindness?!
“It must be covered in snow,” I murmured, but I knew that wasn’t true.
I whipped my head around, looking for the Pyramid. It was huge, a towering glass structure, impossible to miss. And it was just…
“Gone,” I whispered. “It’s gone.”
“Looking for this?”
My heart stopped beating and seemed to tumble down my rib cage, into my stomach.
Turning around slowly, so slowly, I looked to my right and saw—
“Xavier?” I gasped.
Xavier was on one knee, in the middle of the Louvre courtyard, snowflakes drenching his hair. He was holding up a tiny, glittering ring that I immediately realized was a miniaturized, diamond version of the Louvre Pyramid.
“Xavier!” The world spun around me in a haze of white. “What are you doing here — when did you — where the hell is the Pyramid?!”
“I’ll return the Pyramid,” he said with a roguish smile, “if you say yes. Marry me, Chloe. I love you. It’s always been you. And I can’t believe it took me so long to realize. Let’s make up for lost time and start our lives together. What do you say?”
I didn’t have to think for a moment.
“Yes, of course,” I sobbed, tears turning to little icicles on my cheeks. “I love you, too.”
Xavier slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit like a glove. Then he stood up, took me in his arms and kissed me.
CHAPTER 43
Xavier
IT HAD GONE exactly as I’d planned. Even if it hadn’t, though — even if I had proposed to Chloe in a subway station, or with a twist-tie, makeshift ring — even then, it would’ve been perfect, because she said yes.
Her nose was pink in the winter wind, and I wanted to kiss it, to kiss my fiancée’s nose. Fiancée. It sounded so right when I spoke of her. The word had always been a weight around my ankle when it came to Rebecca, or rather what was expected of Rebecca and me, but with Chloe, it lifted me up, seeming to inflate me with helium until I was several feet off the ground.
“Now close your eyes,” I told Chloe.
“Why?” she asked.
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“Then close your eyes.”
She squinted at me with impish delight, then did as she was told. I placed my hands on her shoulders and spun her around. Leaning down to her ear, I whispered, “Now open them.”
Chloe’s expression was worth more than all the art in the Louvre put together, even the Mona Lisa.
Because there, soaring in front of us, was the Louvre Pyramid.
“I don’t understand,” she cried.
The men dressed in deceptive work coveralls were gathered around the base of the Pyramid applauding as Chloe’s eyes scanned the glass walls, trying to make sense of what just happened.
My magician, Colin, decked in a green suit, took a deep bow.
“My warmest congratulations,” he said to us in a British lilt. “You brought the Louvre back.”
Chloe turned to me, eyes shining with joy. “You did this all for me?”
“I’d give you the whole Louvre, if you asked.”
“I love you,” she said once more.
But then her face turned cloudy with doubt, and she took a step back.
“What’s the matter?” I asked hastily, afraid I’d done something wrong. “Did I mess up? Did you not want this? I won’t be offended, if this is all too much—”
“No, no it’s not that,” she interjected. “I’m thrilled, it’s just… there’s something else you need to know.”
Despite myself, I frowned. “Is there another man? Because if there is,” I choked on the words, forcing myself to say them, “I’d understand, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Xavier! No, Jesus, it’s not that.” Chloe took a deep breath. “It’s… um… I’m a little… well… no, a lot… pregnant. I’m pregnant.”
She unbuttoned her coat, and I saw her huge belly, jutting out over her hips.
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re pregnant.”
She nodded. “So I hear.”
“Does this mean—”
“Yeah. You’re the father, Xavier.”
My limbs seemed to lose all feeling. Was I still standing up? Or had I sunk to the ground with the shock of everything? Now I knew how Marc felt. All my senses seemed to vanish in an instant. My body gave me no information. The only thing I knew, for an absolute certainty, was that I was going to be a dad.
“It’s a girl,” Chloe added, looking almost guilty.
“A girl.” Was this really happening?
“And I’m due in two months.”
“Two months.” It was all I could do to repeat her words.
“Xavier,” she said, taking a step closer to me. “Are you mad? Did I fuck up? Or are you afraid, or… what are you thinking? Just tell me.”
“I’m thinking,” I responded slowly, moving in to her and trying to formulate a sentence, “that I am the luckiest man in the entire world. And I’m just wondering how anything so incredibly perfect could happen to me. I’m not sure I deserve this. I’m sure I don’t deserve you. But here we are. You’re picking me, a
nd we’re having a daughter, and my God… What a time to be alive. I love you. I love our daughter. I have never known anything to be so true.”
Chloe laughed, and the noise echoed through the courtyard. Her stomach moved up and down with the sound — her womb, that was carrying our baby.
“You gotta button this up,” I said, closing the distance between us so I could snap her coat shut, button by button. “You don’t want our baby to get cold.”
Chloe playfully rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I keep it warm in there for her.”
I rubbed her upper arms with my ungloved hands. “You’re gonna get chilly out here, you can’t be in the cold in your condition.”
“I’m not an invalid, don’t worry about me.”
“Let’s get you inside, near a warm fire.” My mind was racing. “And why are you coming to work in this condition? Shouldn’t you be on maternity leave? Bed rest? Do you need me to hire a doula? When was your last doctor’s appointment?”
Chloe nearly doubled over laughing.
“What, what’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. I just love this protective, papa-bear side of you. Somehow, it’s so right. It’s like it’s been there all along.”
I harrumphed at Chloe’s light mockery. “I’m just taking care of you.”
“I know,” she murmured, pulling me in close by the lapels of my coat. “And I love you for it.”
Her lips moved in to mine, but I put a finger up between us.
“Is kissing me going to raise your blood pressure too much?” I asked.
Snorting, Chloe replied, “I think I’ll manage. Besides, it looks like I have the day off work today after all. We gotta pass the time somehow, right?”
“Good point. And maybe if I kiss you well enough, you’ll never want to leave the house. My kisses will put you on maternity leave.”
“I’d love to watch you try.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Her lips curled up. “If you wanna take it as one, yeah.”
