by Harper Bliss
“I don’t know.” Nadia was adamant to finish the rest of her food. “What are you looking for?” Perhaps Dievart could be a new challenge for Steph. More of a rebound person than the anonymous women she slept with to forget about Dominique. Then again, Nadia could do without the hassle.
“Someone fun. First and foremost, I just want to have a good time. I’m not looking to settle down.” Sounded right up Steph’s alley.
“Let me think on it.” Nadia thought it best to remain noncommittal.
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Dievart said it as though Nadia was going to recommend her a hairdresser in the neighbourhood. “Now tell me, is there anyone I need to look out for in this hospital?”
Nadia chewed the last morsel of steak and, satisfied, leaned back in her chair. “I hear Doctor Andres already has the hots for you. He’s a big fan.”
“I can deal with admirers.” Dievart looked as though she was never short of those. “What about the politics? Anything I should know?” Doctor Dievart brushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Nadia considered what she should and should not divulge to Dievart. Then her phone rang. Automatically, she peeked at the screen. Juliette’s name came up.
“Sorry,” she absentmindedly said to Dievart, wondering if she was in for another scolding from her partner.
“Don’t worry about it.” Dievart grabbed the opportunity to check her own messages.
“Hello.” Juliette had been very frosty with Nadia for days, and Nadia had to try very hard to sound sweet. She’d tried to apologise, but Juliette had rejected every one of her attempts.
“Hey, babe.” Nadia was surprised by the obvious conciliatory tone in Juliette’s voice. “Can you talk?” Nadia glanced at Marie Dievart. If Juliette knew who she was having lunch with, she would soon be adopting a different kind of tone again—the one that Nadia was getting used to.
“Not really, but I can call you back in five.” Nadia rubbed her palm against her thigh. Dievart shot her a quick glance. Maybe she should introduce them, attempt to suck all the tension out of the air between the three of them, because this was not a pleasant situation to be in.
“Okay. Please do.” There was a hint of disappointment in Juliette’s voice before she hung up.
“The fiancée?” Dievart painted a crooked smirk on her face, and Nadia detested herself so much in that moment. It would be easier if Dievart weren’t the cocky person that she so obviously was. But Nadia had no choice but to get over herself and make this all work.
Nadia gave a quick nod. “I’d better get back to it.” She rose from her chair, the feet scraping over the linoleum of the hospital cafeteria floor.
“Sure,” Dievart said with an understanding glint in her eyes. “Thanks for lunch.”
Nadia said her goodbyes, shaking the new Chief of Neurosurgery’s hand quickly and evasively, and rushed to her office. On the way, the memory washed over her like a cold shower. That night with Dievart, when she’d been so low she had allowed herself to be picked up by the brazen doctor, had been spectacular. And Dievart knew it. Because Nadia had given it all up to the surgeon. She’d let her take her to her room in the hotel a block away from the hospital. She’d let her strip Nadia of her clothes, as though she had no will power of her own anymore. She had done things to her that Juliette could never, ever do.
A shiver of something ran up her spine. Guilt? Remorse? Lust? Nadia shut her office door and sank into the soft leather of her chair, frustration building in her gut. She had absolutely no desire left for Dievart, that was not what the frustration was about. It was all the feelings that had led her to make her go along with it, and how, despite becoming engaged, and making big promises like working less and spending more time together, so far, absolutely nothing had changed between her and Juliette.
Juliette was waiting for her call at Barbier & Cyr, possibly with less of a chip on her shoulder than before—otherwise she wouldn’t have called—and although she was entitled to have a strong reaction to the news about Dievart and Nadia’s comments about seeing her father, it was how she had reacted to it in the exact same manner she always did. By shutting Nadia out. By coming home late at night and shrouding herself in silence, nothing but accusations in her glance. As though all that went wrong in her life was Nadia’s fault. And her only option was to keep all lines of communications firmly closed.
Limitless understanding hadn’t brought Nadia very far in the past, which was why she had suggested Juliette take action in the first place. But, of course, her timing had been rather off. Nadia had no problem being the bigger person in their relationship, not simply because if she didn’t there wouldn’t be a relationship—or an engagement—but because that was how she was raised, how she was. And she firmly believed that Juliette needed someone like her in her life. That, together, they were more than the sum of their parts. It was the distinct lack of that feeling that had driven her into Dievart’s arms that night. And today was a brusque reminder.
She punched in Juliette’s number, hoping they could work things out.
“Sorry, babe,” Juliette said. “Can we talk tonight? Steph just walked in and we have a bit of an emergency going on.”
“Oh jesus christ.” Because this was how it always was between them. Something else was always more important.
“I know. I know.” There was only an absent hint of apology in Juliette’s voice. “I’ll be home at seven on the dot. I promise. I’m sorry.”
“Fine.” Nadia hung up, determined to make Juliette wait at least an hour for her tonight—no matter how petty that was.
STEPH
“Did you have lunch with Margot?” Claire eyed Steph with a funny look on her face, eyebrows half-drawn up, lips squeezed together.
“Just ran into her in the hallway. Had a coffee and a chat.” In spite of herself, Margot’s words had made Steph think.
“Oh really?” Claire’s eyebrows shot all the way up.
“She’s your girl, Boss. Just getting to know her a bit better.” Steph lowered herself into the sofa in Juliette’s office.
“Did she say anything?” Claire asked.
Steph glanced at Juliette who stood talking into her phone in the corner by the window. “About you, you mean?” Steph smirked at Claire. “Many interesting things.”
“Okay.” Juliette approaching redirected Steph’s attention. “Sorry about that. Nadia on the phone,” she said.
“What’s up?” Steph hoped she wasn’t about to be quizzed on her progress with Sybille. Did Claire even know how Margot felt about how she conducted business? Although it was hardly fair to pin that on Claire. The whole thing had been entirely Steph’s idea. Perhaps, now that she had thought about it more at Margot’s insistence, she would have expected her bosses—and friends—to protest a bit more vocally.
“Have you, huh, approached Sybille at all?” Juliette’s voice dipped down when she spoke Sybille’s name, making it sound like a dirty word that shouldn’t be said out loud. She positioned herself next to Steph in the sofa.
“Not yet, but—” Steph started.
“Good.” Juliette cut her off immediately.
“What’s going on?” Steph feared another attack on her personality. Claire said nothing, indicating this was Juliette’s plan. Or perhaps she was still trying to figure out what Margot had said about her.
“I know we acted in Dominique’s best interest when we advised her to deny the affair. It’s how it’s done. Classic PR tactics. By the book.” Juliette shuffled around a bit. “But, what if there were another way? This is the year 2014. Maybe it doesn’t have to be like that anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Steph had no clue where her boss was going with this.
“Aren’t you sick of those hypocritical bastards of Tous Ensemble getting thousands of people out of their homes on Sundays, protesting against our rights?” Juliette shook her head. “This country has taken such a big swing to the right. It’s not funny anymore. I feel personall
y assaulted.”
“Erm, MLR isn’t exactly the left either, Jules.”
“They’re not, but perhaps how they position themselves is exactly where we need to be, to be taken seriously.”
Steph narrowed her eyes, trying to understand the point Juliette was attempting to get across. “Back up a bit, please.”
“This happened twenty-five years ago, of course, but my own father told me, with no choice words, that I should never bring a female lover home.” There was not a hint of pain in Juliette’s voice, only determination. “Isn’t it time we tried to change that? We are a lesbian-owned firm, representing a female politician who had an affair with another woman. What if we threw away the chance to do something good? To seize the opportunity for change?”
Steph looked at Claire to check if she was on board with this ludicrous idea. Clearly, Juliette was hit much harder by her brother turning up the other day than she let on, and was allowing her personal feelings to influence her professional decisions. Understandable, but not acceptable.
“What? You want Dominique to come out, maybe hold my hand on national TV, expect the country to embrace us, and vote for her to become the next president? What are you on, Jules?”
“Don’t you want something better for yourself?” Juliette was adamant.
“What Jules is trying to say,” Claire chimed in, “is that we don’t have to adhere to the status-quo. We have the power. Not to change how everyone in this country thinks, but to at least show them there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”
“As I said to Claire,” Juliette’s voice jumped up with excitement, “if we don’t, who will do it for us?”
“Jesus.” Steph sagged against the backrest of the sofa. “I step out for an hour and this is what happens?”
“You stepped out for much longer than that, Steph. And we all know why. Don’t you wish you didn’t have to?”
“Don’t try to emotionally blackmail me into supporting this idea.” Steph squared her shoulders, sat upright. “Don’t you think I lie awake at night for hours on end dreaming of a better way for this to play out? For a way to—”
“Let me stop you right there.” Juliette turned her body, fully facing Steph. “I have no doubt you made the decision that you believed was right, but there’s no denying you made it fast.”
Steph huffed out a breath. “I don’t believe this. Is my work being questioned here?” Had she not sacrificed the most? And wasn’t that enough?
“No. No.” Claire again. “That’s not what we’re trying to suggest. We all thought it was the best decision at the time.” Dominique hadn’t. Steph knew that much. She’d never forget how her face had gone from warm to icy in a split second, as though she had to shut Steph out immediately for any chance of survival. “And as far as logical decisions in our business go, it’s flawless. But we’re not talking just business here, Steph. We’re talking about so much more.”
“You want to counter the dark ideas of the extreme-right with love and peace?” It wasn’t so much Juliette and Claire’s lofty ideals Steph was protesting against, but the repercussions on her personal life. Had it all been for nothing? The pain she’d suffered through with only her cat as a witness.
“No, but we can at least try to make a difference.” Juliette’s shoulders had slumped a bit.
“Why don’t you ask me the question really burning on your lips, Jules?” Steph pinned her eyes on her friend. She wasn’t a complete fool.
At least Juliette hesitated. Perhaps respectfully, perhaps because she really found it difficult to ask. “Do you think Dominique would be amenable?”
Bam. There it was. Steph knew no other way than immediate defence. “You’re asking me? She’s your client now. Why don’t you ask her yourself.” She witnessed how Juliette exchanged a quick glance with Claire.
“You know her best, Steph,” Claire said. “If we go to her with this, we need a plan. We can’t just show up and hope for the best.”
Steph thought about the last time she had seen Dominique, only a few days ago. How excruciating it had been to have to send her away again. How the heat had engulfed her all over again, the desire she had for this woman she couldn’t possibly be with anymore.
“Additionally,” Juliette just couldn’t stop talking. “If Dominique tells the truth about you and her, no one can leak any more dirty secrets to the press.”
Steph uttered a lame chuckle. “Sure, because she’d be committing political suicide and it wouldn’t matter anymore.”
“I know this is a lot to think about and we’re bombarding you with this. Think about it.” Claire tried to be the voice of reason, but it didn’t make their outrageous plan sound any more plausible.
“But do consider the possibility that you might be wrong. That people can surprise you. This isn’t the dark ages anymore, despite what Tous Ensemble would like us to believe,” Juliette said. “And that…” She hesitated.
“Don’t.” Steph stopped her. “Don’t say it. Don’t cross that line.”
Because no matter how they played it—and if Dominique were to actually come out—Steph would always be a liability. The dirt that could be dug up on her. The life she lived was the exact opposite of what right-wing extremists like the ANF and that despicable organisation Tous Ensemble, supposedly fighting for ‘core family values’, tried to promote. Maybe it would be different if Dominique had fallen for a good girl who only coloured between the lines, not someone like Steph, who loved blurring boundaries and crossing them. No matter what happened, there was no happy ending for her and Dominique. She could imagine Le Matin interviewing a cross section of her past lovers. Exposing Le Noir. Judging her and the choices she made on the front page.
“I think it’s a bad idea. One I can’t possibly be on board with.”
Next to her, Juliette sighed. “But…,” she started to say, but Claire stopped her by holding up her hand.
“Sleep on it,” Claire said. “This is just the beginning of an idea. Nothing concrete.”
“Just stay away from Sybille, because that could seriously backfire,” Juliette added.
Steph looked from Juliette to Claire and back. “Fine, as long as the pair of you have a good think about this as well.”
MARGOT
Margot couldn’t stop glancing at her watch. It was past seven and Claire still hadn’t shown up. After how she’d left her in her office earlier, it could really only mean one thing. She was done. Margot’s last play hadn’t worked. They were done. If Claire didn’t show up at hers tonight, desperate for release, their relationship was beyond repair. She checked her phone for the umpteenth time, hoping for news and at the same time fearing that a message of dismissal might appear. Outside, traffic honked and stuttered. Perhaps Claire was stuck somewhere in a taxi, cursing what a little bit of rain did to drivers in Paris, her phone drained of battery power. Margot could still give her the benefit of the doubt. She hadn’t given up just yet.
The conversation she’d had with Stéphanie was still fresh on her mind. Margot gazed through the rain-spattered window of her flat, at the rush hour chaos outside. Obviously, the girl was lost. Did no one at Barbier & Cyr notice? Or were they all just too much up in each other’s business to see when someone was suffering so much they were making stupid decisions. But if Margot knew how to do something well, it was not to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She wouldn’t breathe a word about her conversation with Steph to Claire. If the latter ever showed up. Or was this a power play as well? Had their relationship been reduced to a string of games? Margot was a big fan of game play inside the bedroom, but she preferred things as straightforward as possible outside of it.
A wall clock that had been in her family for ages ticked loudly behind her, as if taunting her. They hadn’t set a definite time, but Margot had hoped that her words as well as her actions had conveyed successfully to Claire that she shouldn’t come over too late. Unless this was payback for the night before. When Margot had only shown up at Claire’s af
ter she was fast asleep. Whereas Margot used to pride herself on possessing endless reservoirs of patience, she was quickly running out now. They were going to hash this out once and for all tonight. Make a decision. Yes or no. Either Claire still wanted to be with her, or she didn’t. Simple.
The loud chime of the bell startled Margot out of her spiralling thoughts. Instantly, relief and anxiety flared in her gut. She buzzed Claire in and waited. The elevator was probably crowded at this time of the evening, and Claire was not the kind to take the stairs. Margot left the front door ajar and poured herself a glass of wine, but, repulsed by the smell of alcohol after last night’s bender, pushed it away. She sat down in the sofa and waited.
“Hey.” The sound of Claire’s voice undid at least one knot coiling in the pit of her stomach. “Sorry I’m so late.” Margot heard the front door fall into the lock as Claire rushed into the living room, already shrugging off her overcoat, dropping her bag in the corner next to the cabinet where she always left it.
“I love you,” Margot heard herself say out of the blue. She figured she really must have wanted to say that. Claire froze for an instant, her arms going limp next to her, then shot her a smile and came for her.
“And I love it when you come to my office and spank me.” Claire planted her knees on either side of Margot and folded at the waist to kiss her. Margot twisted her face to the side, her lips out of reach for Claire.
“I’m serious, Claire. I’m done fucking around here.”
“What?” Claire straightened her torso, peering down at Margot in what was quickly becoming an awkward position. “What’s going on? Is it because I’m so late? We had stuff going on—”
“It’s not about that.” Margot shuffled her knees against each other, hoping Claire would get the hint and slide off her. “It’s about us. About how it makes me feel. I love you, and I need to know how you feel.”
“How about…” Claire painted that irresistible grin on her lips. “I show you instead of telling you?” She bent down, bringing her face inches away from Margot’s.
