by Alix Nichols
“It’s real.”
“Can I see it?”
I need a moment to process his unexpected request. “Why?”
“So that I can… you know…” Xavier shifts in his seat. “See how bad it is.”
“What for?”
“To… er… assess the potential damage.”
“It has closeups of my face and other parts, if that’s what you want to know.”
Is that keenness I discern in his eyes? No, it cannot be.
“Anyway,” I say. “I don’t have a copy.”
“Are you sure?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Let’s say I did have a copy. Let’s say you viewed it and ascertained it was as bad as I said it was. Then what?”
“I don’t know.” He sits back. “I won’t turn my back on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I might… be less understanding of your desire not to rush things.”
What?
“Let me get this straight,” I say. “Are you saying you expect to have sex with me now that you know what kind of woman I am?”
He averts his gaze. “No! Of course not.”
I gulp down my coffee.
“What are you going to do about the video?” he asks.
“Not sure yet.”
“It’s a really bad situation.” He gives me a sympathetic nod. “If you give him what he wants and he deletes the video in front of you, you can never be sure he doesn’t have other copies.”
You’re right—I can’t.
“If you…” He hesitates. “If you agree to do his bidding, how far would you let him go?”
I purse my lips and begin to rummage in my purse for my wallet.
“Would you deepthroat him?” He leans in. “What if he asks for backdoor action? Would you do plugs?”
I put a fiver on the table and stand up.
“Mia, wait!” He grabs my wrist. “I’m so sorry. I got carried away.”
I yank my hand from his grip.
“Put yourself in my shoes,” he says. “Only half an hour ago, you were this beautiful Virgin Mary type. I almost believed your baby was the result of Immaculate Conception! And then it turns out you’re a… a…”
His lips move silently as he censors himself, searching for a euphemism.
“A slut,” I say. “Is that the word you’re trying to substitute?”
“Yes.”
I whirl around and march to the exit.
“No!” he shouts. “Shit! Mia, wait!”
He continues yelling something when I’m already at the door and even as I pull it behind me.
Well done, Mia, I tell myself as I rush to the métro station.
It had been a genius idea to share your burden with your friend and good man Xavier.
Now you’re one day closer to Gaspard’s deadline.
And one fuckup richer.
Chapter 31
“There must be a better way of dealing with this mess,” Delphine says. “We just need to think harder.”
She called me for a chat an hour ago, and I ended up telling her everything. Well, almost. My sharp-witted friend knew I’d been pregnant when I left Paris a year ago. She’d also figured out Lily’s dad worked at DCA. When I refused to give her his name, she said, “As you wish. I’ll work it out on my own soon enough.”
Considering her street smarts and tenacity, she just might.
The blackmail part had come as a total surprise to her, though. I gave her the whole story—the gang bang, the video, Gaspard’s cryptic notes a year ago, my brief meeting with him in the diner, and his latest email.
While Delphine mulled over my mess, I went to Lily, who needed a change of diaper. Then I called her back, and we brainstormed my options. But, unfortunately, none of the courses of action Delphine came up with bettered mine.
In three days, Lily and I are boarding a plane that will take us back to Martinique.
“Come visit when it’s winter here,” I say to her, trying to sound light.
“You don’t have to go away, you know. That moronic Gaspard, didn’t he say he’d post the video if you didn’t show up?”
“He did.”
“You think he’s bluffing like last time?” she asks.
“I’m afraid not. I think he means it this time around.”
“But then why run? The damage will be done anyway.”
I rub my forehead. “I just can’t… I’m not strong enough to face the music in Paris. It will be easier in Martinique. Everything is easier in Martinique. Like in that song by Aznavour, Emmenez-moi.”
“Misery is less gruesome in the sun,” Delphine quotes.
“Exactly.”
“And your parents? What if they open Gaspard’s email and watch the video?”
“I’m going to Alsace tomorrow morning to come clean and warn them about the video.”
“Oh dear. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now.”
I smirk. “Nor would I, if I had a choice.”
“What about your academic career?” she asks. “You’re so close, you can’t quit now!”
“Yes I can, even if it breaks my heart to disappoint my supervisor like this. He’s been a fantastic mentor to me.”
“Then don’t!”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure! Anything I can do to help.”
“I need you to write down a note and hand it to Gaspard on Saturday. I know it’s a lot to ask—”
“Are you kidding? I’ll be happy to do it! Hang on.” I hear a noise that sounds like a drawer being pulled. “OK, I have a pen and paper. Talk.”
“Write in block letters, please,” I say and dictate the short note.
Delphine writes it down. “Shall I read it to you to be sure?”
“Yes, please.”
She clears her throat. “I know you’re a scumbag. I have proof you’re a creep. If you post that video, I’ll report you to the police. Burn in hell.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I owe you one.”
“No, I owe you for the opportunity to see the look on his face when he reads your note.”
We say good-bye, and I sit down at the kitchen table, which doubles as a desk. My measly belongings are all packed up. I’ll call Eva as soon as she’s back from Florida to give her the news.
She’ll be mad at me at first, but I hope she’ll understand.
There’s just one more thing left to do before Lily and I catch our train to Alsace. I rip a blank page out of my notebook and write.
Raphael,
I don’t want to leave without saying good-bye, or to say it via a text message like last time.
So here goes. Good-bye, my favorite snowman. Lily and I are going back to Martinique. We’ll be happier there.
Please don’t believe Genevieve’s mudslinging.
It makes me feel petty and contemptible asking you this, but I must.
Have a good one,
Mia
I fold the sheet, stick it in a small envelope and address it to Raphael’s Parisian home. With the letter in my purse, I grab Lily and head out to the post office.
If Raphael receives my letter within the next forty-eight hours, I’ll be in Alsace, where I’ve booked a room in a hotel outside Estheim. If he gets it over the weekend, I’ll be in Martinique.
It hasn’t escaped my notice that I’m denying him the chance to persuade me to stay. But given how we parted after Ninossos, I doubt he’ll even try. As for the guilt trip over taking Lily so far away from him, it’s completely unjustified. He doesn’t want her.
So there you go—I’m actually doing him a favor.
I’m doing what’s best for all of us.
Chapter 32
Màma and Pàpa are already at the designated spot by the merry-go-round when I get off the bus with Lily in a front carrier against my chest.
The reason I chose this location is that there’s a discreet bench hidden from sight by shrubbery. It’s always vacant because people fo
rget it’s there.
My parents might need it in a few moments.
Lily and I arrived in Alsace last night and went straight to the hotel. I called my parents this morning. Màma answered the phone. I asked if she and Pàpa could meet me later today in the town hall park. Màma had a hard time accepting I’d stopped at a nearby hotel. I told her it was because I’d come to Estheim with someone they were about to meet. She was silent for a long moment, processing my declaration. Then she informed me, her voice tight, that he could sleep in the guest bedroom in the house.
I didn’t dare scandalize her further by saying it was a she.
As I get nearer, I can see my parents squint in my direction, bewilderment written all over their faces.
This isn’t going to be easy.
“Meet Lily,” I say after Pàpa greets me with a tight embrace and Màma with her customary forehead kiss.
They pet her.
“She’s adorable,” Màma says. “Are you babysitting for someone?”
I shake my head. “Lily is mine.”
They blink, take a step back and plonk themselves down on the bench.
“Is that a joke?” Pàpa asks.
“No,” I say. “I had her in Martinique, and I’ve been too chicken to tell you.”
For several endless moments, they just stare at Lily and me without saying a word.
Then Màma takes a sharp breath. “Who’s the father?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Pàpa yells.
Wow.
I had to reach my late twenties to have my father yell at me.
Màma looks so shocked and confused as she peers at Lily that my heart goes to her.
“I wanted you to meet her before we return to Martinique,” I say.
She levels her gaze with mine. “What? Why?”
There’s a tightness in my chest threatening to transform into waterworks any minute. I must say my piece before it does.
“There’s something else you need to know about me,” I blurt out.
Pàpa drops his head into his hands.
“When I was in college,” I say, “I did something stupid, really stupid, and now there’s a video out there… and someone is going to post it on the Internet… and also email it to you.”
They survey me, wide-eyed, as though they were wondering if the woman in front of them was indeed their daughter.
“Please don’t open it,” I say, my voice on the verge of cracking. “Please don’t watch that video.”
They say nothing.
I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms to delay the tears.
“How could you—,” Pàpa begins.
“I’m so sorry,” I butt in. “I’m sorry I turned out to be such a disappointment. Please don’t blame yourselves, and please know I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted to say… I love you.”
I spin around, nearly choking on the pent-up tears, and scoot to the bus stop.
Chapter 33
My phone rings as I’m blowing my nose between two muffled sobs, and Lily is whimpering on the bed.
The caller ID says “Raphael.”
My heart swells with joy before I tell myself I better not answer this. I have nothing to add to what I’ve put in my letter. Which he must have received. Which is why he’s calling.
Problem is Raphael is right—I can’t resist him.
“I’m in the lobby of your hotel,” he says when I finally answer the phone.
“What? How did you find me?”
“I went to see Delphine after I got your letter this morning, hoping you’d confided in her. And you had.”
Damn. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“Only where I could find you. She said the rest wasn’t her secret to tell.”
I exhale in relief.
“Can I come upstairs?” he asks.
“Will you go back to Paris if I say no?”
“Take a guess.”
“Room 210,” I say and go to the door.
Thirty seconds later, he’s inside.
“How could you think I’d believe Genevieve’s preposterous accusation?” he asks, frowning. “I’m not as shallow as I seem.”
I give him a tiny smile. “I know that. I hoped you wouldn’t believe her.”
He draws his brows in concern. “You were crying. What gives?”
“Nothing.” I point to the wooden chair. “Please have a seat.”
Instead, he steps closer and takes my hand.
“Something is obviously very wrong, Mia. Please tell me what it is.”
“I’m fine.” I look down at his hands clutching mine. “And I’ll be even finer in Martinique.”
He tips my head up, forcing me to look at him. “What about your defense? The seminar? The job offer you got?”
“I… I can’t stay.”
He lets go of my hand and sits down. “So here’s the deal. I won’t budge from this chair until you tell me what’s going on.”
With a defiant look, he folds his hands across his chest and crosses his legs.
Motionless, I watch him.
A few long moments later, he shifts, uncrosses his legs, crosses them again, and screws up his handsome face into a comical expression.
My lips curl up, despite my misery.
“Is there a more comfortable chair in this room?” he asks.
I shake my head, struggling to remain serious.
“Then I’m transferring my sit-in to the bed,” he says.
“Sissy.”
“Not a sissy—a result-oriented person.” He stands up and flashes me a sexy smile. “I’ll last longer on the bed.”
I grab his hand to stop him from going to the bed. “Lily is cranky. She needs quiet to fall asleep.”
He cups my cheek, his gaze boring into mine. “What are you running from, Mia?”
“A video,” I say, surprising myself.
His brows go up.
“Someone has a compromising video of me from my college days…” I begin.
Oh, what the hell.
I’m going to tell it like it is. Unembellished. The whole freaking enchilada.
“Someone has a drunken gang bang video with me in it,” I blurt out before I lose the nerve. “If I don’t meet him tomorrow and do what he wants me to do, he’ll make it public.”
Raphael stares at me for a long moment. “Is that why you disappeared a year ago?”
I nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” A deep crease appears between his brows. “Why didn’t you ask for my help?”
“This… situation is the result of my mistake. So it’s my problem to deal with.”
“You’re wrong. It’s mine, too.”
“It shouldn’t be,” I say. “It’s not fair.”
“Fair is not how life works.” He pulls me to his chest. “You’re about to bolt—again—because some jerk is blackmailing you. Baby, it is my problem.”
I peer into his eyes.
“Let me handle it,” he says. “Where and at what time tomorrow were you supposed to meet him?”
“What will you do?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“He doesn’t want money—I’ve already offered.” I wring my hands. “He wants… sexual favors every time he’s in France.”
Raphael’s body tenses against mine.
“I wasn’t going to pay him,” he says. “That’s a short-term solution.”
“Then what? Beat him up?”
He smirks. “For starters.”
“And after that?”
“Impress upon him that if he makes his move, I’ll unleash a pack of top-notch lawyers who’ll eat him alive. It’s illegal to post nudes without a person’s consent.”
“I know that, but what if he posts the video anyway?” I sigh. “He isn’t a reasonable person.”
Raphael shrugs. “OK, let’s say he’s a suicidal nutcase and he posts it. So what?”
&nbs
p; “What do you mean, so what?”
“Your little sex tape will join millions of other sex tapes the Internet is teeming with. Who cares?”
I chew my lip. “You don’t?”
He shakes his head.
“Will you watch it if he posts it?”
“Absolutely not.” He gives me a stern look. “What kind of douchebag do you think I am?”
Clearly, not the kind Xavier turned out to be.
“It might ruin my academic career,” I say.
He quirks an eyebrow. “Really? You’re concerned about your academic career? Is that why you’re quitting it?”
I look down, flushing.
“Why don’t you tell me what it is you’re really worried about?” he asks.
“He’s going to send the video to my parents.”
“He can’t force them to watch it.”
“He can trick them into watching it.”
Raphael encases my face with his hands. “You have to come clean before they get it.”
“I just did.”
“And?”
“It was too much for them—the gang bang, the video, Lily…”
“They didn’t know about her?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure they’ll want to see me again.”
“Of course they will. They’re religious people—they’ll find it in themselves to forgive you.”
I shake my head again and let out a sob.
He draws back and stares me in the eye. “Mia?”
“I hate myself for how much I’ve hurt and disappointed them,” I say. “And it breaks my heart that they’ll stop loving me.”
“They won’t,” he says.
“You don’t know them! You have no idea how high their moral standards are. Things like virtue and uprightness mean everything to them.”
He lowers his brows. “Oh come on.”
I draw away, march to the door, and open it wide. “Please go. You’re making this whole thing harder than it already is.”
Not to mention that I’m about to lose it again, and I don’t want to lose it in front of him.
“Mia, please.”
“Just go.”
He walks out.
I grab a pillow from the bed, press it to my face, and wail into it.
