by Harper Bliss
“I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you want to be with me.” Margot could feel an iciness settling in her chest. She was steeling herself for the worst case scenario. “No reservations.”
“I do. I do want to be with you.” Claire cupped Margot’s chin in her palms. “I’m trying my very hardest.”
“That’s just it. It shouldn’t feel as though you have to try so hard.”
Claire sank down on her lap, her bottom connecting with Margot’s knees. Inadvertently, it made Margot think about how she had treated Claire’s behind at noon, and it stirred something between her legs.
“We need to talk about this. Really talk.” Margot tried to straighten her posture, an action she always derived strength from, but it was hard with Claire still half-crouched on top of her.
“Okay.” Claire retreated and sat next to her, eyeing the glass of wine on the coffee table.
“You can have that,” Margot said, her resolve rapidly splintering because of the premonition building inside of her gut.
Claire sighed and turned to her. “That’s all right.” She pinned her eyes on Margot. “Best to keep things sober for this.”
“I mean it. I love you. But I can’t keep doing what we’ve been doing the past month. Either we move this relationship forward, or we don’t. But I need some sense of security. I need to know that this is going somewhere instead of around in circles.”
“Look,” Claire started, fiddling with a button of her blouse. “I want nothing more than to feel the way I did before, but I think it’s only normal that it’s hard for me. I want this to work, more than anything.”
“So you keep saying.” Margot felt herself crumbling.
Claire shook her head. “I know that the way I’m dealing with this is not easy on you, but you just said you loved me, so don’t you think we ought to keep on trying?”
Until when? Margot thought. Until there’s nothing left of me? Again. “Do you love me?” she asked instead.
“I do. I hope you know that I do. Would I even be here if I didn’t?” Something broke in Claire’s voice. “But I’m not like you. I don’t need for things to be so clear cut. And I do feel as though we’ve been making progress. I mean, today…” A tiny smile broke through the sadness on her face.
“It’s not about sex, Claire. In the end, it’s not about that at all.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” The first hint of impatience. Another sign that they were not operating on the same wavelength. That the gap between what they both wanted from their relationship might be too wide.
“Take this conversation as an example. Don’t you think it’s so indicative of what we have become as a couple. Are we even a couple?” Margot asked.
“Yes. We are.” No sign of hesitation in Claire’s voice. “We may not be the perfect couple you want us to be. We may not be living up to all the expectations you have of us, but yes, we are a couple. We’re struggling, because sometimes that’s what it takes. You go the extra mile for love.”
“Then let me ask you this.” Margot wanted so much to believe in Claire’s words, but it wasn’t in her nature. Love, for her, was something to be felt coursing through her veins, colouring her day brighter, not this mess endlessly dragging her down. “When do you think you’ll be able to forgive me?” Pure fear bunched up in her throat as she asked the question, as though their entire future depended on the answer. Maybe it did.
Claire’s fists tightened. “Perhaps only when you realise that I may never be able to. That it’s not required.”
The last words Margot wanted to hear. She had no reply.
“Hey.” Unexpectedly, Claire shuffled closer. “I’m not perfect. You’re not perfect. Doesn’t mean we’re not perfect for each other.”
“I just—” Margot struggled to find the words. “I’m not good at these half-way situations, Claire. I need commitment. Or at the very least something more than what we have now.”
“Okay.” Claire set her jaw. “Do you have something specific in mind.”
“No. I don’t have a clue.” Margot shrugged. “And that’s probably what scares me the most.” Because how do you save a relationship that never had the chance to become one in the first place?
Claire reached for Margot’s hands, took them in hers. “Let me take you out this weekend. On a date. We never went on enough dates. You tied me to the bed, and that was it.” Claire tilted her head and glared at her from under her lashes. “Let’s start again.”
“Okay.” Margot’s hesitant nod quickly transformed into a determined one. “Maybe somewhere around the Eiffel Tower.”
“Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything.” Claire scooted closer as she brought Margot’s hands to her mouth, kissed her on the knuckles, before redirecting her lips to her ear. “And the Eiffel Tower is so cliché, baby.”
“Oh really,” Margot chuckled, feeling freed of most of her anguish because of the sudden lighter atmosphere. “Because it seemed to work just fine on you when I first took you there.”
“Stop arguing and kiss me,” Claire said, and Margot happily followed her command.
JULIETTE
“How was your day, babe?” Juliette asked Nadia, careful not to show any signs of irritation because of Nadia arriving home this late.
“Fine. Yours?” Nadia went straight for the half-finished bottle of red that stood next to the fridge and poured herself a generous helping.
Juliette was buzzing too hard to pay much attention to Nadia’s tone. “Hey. Come here.” She rose from the chair where she sat researching Tous Ensemble on her laptop, adamant to bring them down—despite Steph’s skepticism. She pulled Nadia close, not caring that it made her spill some of her wine. “I’m sorry for being so Juliette Barbier about the whole neurosurgeon thing. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.” She brushed away a strand of hair from Nadia’s face. “I was jealous.”
“I know, and you had every right to be.” The crooked smile Nadia shot her warmed Juliette to the core. “I’m sorry for pushing you to see Bertrand. It was not my place.”
“It was. It is. You’re going to be my wife. I could probably do with listening to you a bit more.” Juliette planted a quick kiss on Nadia’s neck. The conversations she’d had today had galvanised her, and just smelling Nadia made her want to kiss her for a few hours.
“What’s up with you tonight?” Nadia pushed her shoulders back and scanned Juliette’s face. “New big fish client?”
“No. It’s all about our current big fish.” Juliette bit her lip, bursting with excitement. “Let me have some of that.” She held out her hand for Nadia’s wine glass, who happily handed it over. Juliette took a big gulp. “I made spaghetti. Why don’t I tell you all about it while we eat?”
Nadia arched up her eyebrows. “You made spaghetti?”
Was that really so unusual? Juliette wondered. “Well, not from scratch.” Admittedly, she’d been too busy gathering information on the NFA and Tous Ensemble to spend a lot of time perfecting her sauce.
“Thanks.” Nadia pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek.
“It’s just spaghetti.” Juliette inhaled her wife-to-be’s scent, hoping this evening would have a happy ending.
While they ate, Juliette told Nadia about her thoughts on the Dominique Laroche situation, not leaving anything out—least of all Steph’s doubts—because Nadia was her fiancée, and she needed to get her honest opinion on the matter.
“You’d be risking a lot.” Nadia had finished her plate and twirled a refilled glass of wine by the stem between her fingers. “But I admire the idea.”
“I think we can get Dominique on board. I never got the impression that she wanted to remain in the closet.” Juliette tapped her foot nervously onto the floorboards. Then an idea came into her mind. “Will you talk to Steph? She listens to you and you don’t work with her. She respects your views.”
“I could, but Steph is Steph. We both know that.” Nadia slanted h
er head. “And before I talk to anyone, we should talk about…”
“I know.” Juliette sat up a bit straighter. “I know I have to deal with Bertrand, but I just, for once, would like to turn a negative into a positive, Nadz. So that what I went through can at least be beneficial to other people.”
“That’s not what I was going to say, babe.” Nadia took a quick sip, deposited her glass with what could easily be interpreted as a slightly impatient bang on the table.
“Oh,” was all Juliette said.
“Regardless of what you feel you should do or not do, for Dominique, for Barbier & Cyr, for yourself…” Nadia paused to clear her throat. “What about us? What happened to the Juliette who told me she was going to work less? The woman who told me that she wouldn’t let it all consume her so much? From where I’m sitting, I’m looking at the exact opposite of the person who said that.”
Again, that crushing feeling that Nadia was not on her side. Not fully, anyway. Not as committed as Juliette would like her to be.
“Really?” Juliette dropped her cutlery. “That’s what you have to say about all this?” Deep in her heart, she knew she was—automatically, instinctively—indulging in the wrong reaction again, but, try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself.
“Yes.” All warmth seemed to drain from Nadia’s expression. “Because it seems to me that I’ll be the one playing second fiddle once again.”
“So much for standing behind your future wife.” Juliette was so riled up, she didn’t care about avoiding hurtful words anymore.
“It’s not about not standing behind you, and you know it.” It seemed as though Nadia wasn’t going to let her have this one. But did she not see Juliette’s passion? Did it not come across loud and clear?
“So what do you propose? I stay at home to cook your dinners while everything else—all the things I genuinely feel we have a chance of changing, even if only a tiny bit—stays the same. Because otherwise you’d feel wronged?” In the back of her mind, Juliette knew she was being deliberately antagonising, but damn it, why did everything they talked about have to turn into a fight? She was on the verge of making a big decision. Was a modicum of support really so much to ask for from her better half?
Nadia sat shaking her head, inhaling exasperated breaths that infuriated Juliette even more. “Since when have you ever been interested in changing the world, anyway?”
“You have no idea.” Juliette’s gut burned with rage. Of all the times she needed Nadia’s support, this one suddenly seemed so crucial. “You with your perfect family. With your mom and dad who’ve never said a wrong word about you being a lesbian. Do you have any idea of the things I’ve had to hear?”
Nadia pulled up her upper lip, baring teeth, a sure sign she wasn’t going to back down. Not this time. Juliette was hardly playing fair, but in this case, she thought she had the right. She’d earned it by being chased from her childhood home, by being vilified by her own flesh and blood.
“Maybe if you’d talk to me about it. Maybe if you’d let me in a bit more instead of coming up with grand schemes for other people’s lives.” Nadia’s shoulders sagged a fraction. “Ever since your brother showed up, you’ve barely spoken to me.”
“I’ve apologised for that.”
“I know you so well, Jules. Don’t you think I see what you’re trying to do?”
“I’m trying to prove a fucking point.” The sudden kindness in Nadia’s voice took Juliette by surprise, made her sit up a bit less straight—holes being punched in her armour.
“You’re hurt. It’s only human that you are. And you’re trying so very hard to not have to face your family, you’re redirecting your energy. Just like you always do.” Nadia leaned over the table, extending her hand. “You don’t need to be the country’s LGBT hero, babe. You need to heal.” Nadia’s hand had reached Juliette’s wrist. “The last thing you need is to bury yourself in more work. Not now.”
Juliette shook her head, but couldn’t stop herself from latching onto Nadia’s arm. She needed the support, the physical connection between them. “You’re wrong. This is how I want to deal with it. It’s the only way for me.” She interlaced her fingers with Nadia’s. “Do you really think I’m going to go see my dad in hospital and forgive him? Will that make me feel better? Fill that bloody gaping hole in my heart?”
“I don’t know, Jules, but it just might.”
“How can you even consider forgiveness?” A tear slid down Juliette’s cheek. Embarrassed, she ripped her hand from Nadia’s hold and wiped it away.
“I’m not saying you have to forgive him. But just talk to him.”
“Whether you support me or not, this is what I intend to do. And I’ll make damn sure both my father and my brother know who’s behind Laroche’s success.”
“Oh, babe.” Nadia folded her facial features into a solemn, understanding expression. Juliette wasn’t sure she could handle looking at that. “You always have my support.” Juliette waited for the ‘but’; Nadia took her time to deliver it. “Just… consider checking your motivations.”
“Will you talk to Steph or not?” Juliette chose to focus her attention on the first part of Nadia’s statement.
“I will. I’ve been meaning to check in with her, anyway. See how she’s holding up now that she’s back at work.”
Ideally, Juliette would be able to tell Nadia about Steph’s initial plan to approach Sybille, but she didn’t want to speak her name in their flat, not after what had happened here. She could also do without Nadia’s judgement in that area. And anyway, if it was up to her—and it largely was—Steph’s flawed plan would become totally unnecessary.
“Thanks,” was all Juliette said.
“I know you have a lot on your plate.” Nadia reached for her arm again. “Promise you’ll talk to me. You don’t have to do this on your own.”
“I promise.” Juliette grabbed hold of Nadia’s hand. “Just give me a bit more time to get my act together.”
“You have time, babe. And you have me. But if you want that spring wedding, we have to start planning sooner rather than later.”
“I know.” As much as Juliette wanted to be married to Nadia, there was not an inch of space left in her troubled, busy brain to think about that shindig.
CLAIRE
Claire met Nadia for a long overdue conversation about their loved ones at a café around the corner of the hospital.
“I’m worried about Jules,” she said, staring into Nadia’s tired face. “And from the look of it, so are you.”
“The confrontation with her family was bound to happen at some point. It’s crushing her, but she can’t talk about it.” Nadia had only ordered coffee for lunch, claiming she wasn’t hungry.
“What can I do?” Claire was desperate to help her friend.
“You know Juliette just as well as I do. There’s no steering her, unless it’s in such a subtle manner she doesn’t realise it.” Nadia rubbed her eyes.
“You look exhausted, Nadz.” Claire stabbed at her turkey salad.
“I have my own shit to deal with as well.”
“Aah. I think I might know what—or should I say who?—you’re referring to.”
Nadia drew her lips into a pout, dimpling her cheeks. “I think that with all the rest she’s got going on, Juliette can accept that nothing will ever happen between me and Dievart again. That she knows that what went on between us was more a silent cry for help than anything else. It’s just that her impending daily presence at the hospital is such a reminder of how and what went wrong between Juliette and me, and there’s always something standing in the way of fixing things in a way that feels more permanent.” A deep inhalation of breath. “And then there’s the small fact that it also reminds me of how easily I gave in to her. I’m not proud of what happened and I fully realise it nearly was our undoing, or at least the trigger for it. But I can’t talk about it with Juliette. Definitely not now, but really, not ever.”
Claire was certain that Juli
ette had absolutely no idea of the shape her wife-to-be was in. As usual, she had her head way too far up her own ass to see—with good reason, but still. “I’m so sorry, Nadz. I didn’t realise you were having such a hard time.”
“I’m fine, really.” Nadia waved off her comment. “I know we’ll be fine. If only Juliette wasn’t so bloody stubborn.” Nadia narrowed her eyes in concentration. “What do you think about her grand idea of Laroche coming out?”
Claire had hoped to run the idea by Margot last night but the circumstances had prevented that. Besides, work was not often discussed between them. Claire had been dead-on when she’d said they’d never properly dated. That they should probably talk more. Get to know each other better in other places than the bedroom.
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” She nodded pensively. “We’re at a crossroads in this country. And Laroche could make such an impact.” She played with a chunk of tomato on her plate. “But, of course, it’s all easier said than done. And Steph is not a fan of the idea, so…”
“I’ll talk to Steph. I’m meeting her after work.”
“Frankly, I think what Steph needs more than anything is a shoulder to cry on.” Claire remembered their journey back from Gordes, and how different Steph had been. How utterly happy her holiday with Dominique had left her. Claire had known Steph for a very long time and she’d never seen her more content.
“Is she really ready to go back to work? Or just looking for distraction, because if she is, she only learned from the best.” Claire knew Nadia was referring to Juliette.
“I don’t know if Jules told you, but, erm, Steph offered to get in touch with Sybille. Feel her out on what else she has on Laroche. To find out whose payroll she’s really on.”
The mention of Sybille’s name made Nadia flinch visibly, but she quickly got her bearings back. “Are you kidding me?” Nadia shook her head. “Isn’t that the clearest sign possible that she’s not ready to come back to Barbier & Cyr?”
