French Kissing: Season Three

by Harper Bliss

  “Christ, Nadz, you’re talking as though I set out to murder Juliette or something. We’re all still alive here, although, of course, some of us only scraped through by the skin of our teeth.”

  “But Margot lived. And she started work again this week. I had to tell her about my suspicions about you and Dievart. I had to. If I hadn’t, Dievart would surely have found a way to let her know. The woman gets her kicks in strange ways, Claire.”

  “Oh shit. So now the only one who doesn’t know is Jules. That’s just great.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger.” Nadia eyed her wine glass that had been empty for too long. She wouldn’t be staying for another drink. “It’s time to get your act together, Claire. Your grieving period is over. And if you want to save anything of your friendship with Juliette, I wouldn’t take too much time to tell her.” Nadia got up. “Drinks are on you, by the way.” For an instant, and purely out of habit, her body hunched in Claire’s direction to kiss her goodbye, but this was not a person who deserved even a slight peck on the cheek. “Don’t let us all down more than you already have.”

  As Nadia made her way out of the bar and waited for a taxi, she hashed over all the harsh things that had been said. So Steph knew. Steph always knew everything. But Nadia barely got to see Steph these days, as she didn’t have the fortune of working with her. In fact, she saw more of Steph on the evening news and in the newspaper than she did in real life. Every time she did, she vowed to call her, or to send her a quick text to ask how she was doing, but something always came up. Nadia decided to text her there and then because taxis were hard to come by again.

  When she did finally manage to flag one down, and had texted Steph, she pondered that other thing that Claire had said: Good luck with the child you don’t want.

  JULIETTE

  Juliette stared at the appointment in her electronic calendar. This time next week she’d be sitting in Doctor Dupuis’ office in Saint-Vincent. She and Nadia would, for the very first time, discuss with a professional their chances of conceiving a child. She was almost forty-five and she knew the odds were slimming by the minute, but these days most mothers were much older than her own mother had been when Juliette had been born.

  “You do know that you’ll be over sixty by the time this child passes his baccalauréat,” Nadia had said. “And so will I, for that matter.”

  Juliette couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment Nadia had crossed over from the no-camp to the maybe-camp. She also didn’t really know how far removed she was from the yes-camp, but she guessed she would find that out soon enough.

  A knock on her office door dragged her out of her reverie. “Hey, Jules,” Claire said.

  “Hey. Ready for the Grisoni meeting?” Juliette replied. “I just need to grab my phone and I’ll be good to go.”

  Claire stood in the doorway eyeing her quizzically. “That meeting has been rescheduled to next Friday,” Claire said. “You forgot?”

  Juliette inhaled deeply. “I must have.” It was true that she was desperately looking forward to the end of the presidential campaign so she could finally start working fewer hours. It was also true that her focus had been drifting away from work-related matters more and more. But as far as she was concerned, she had done her job, and she had done it well. Dominique had beaten Séverine Marechal as the MLR’s candidate, and she was kicking Goffin’s ass in the polls. Laroche was on track to become the nation’s first female, openly gay president. And Juliette had played a massive part in this. She was more than ready to rest on her laurels for a while. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve been distracted.”

  Claire shuffled into her office. “I would like to invite you over to my place tomorrow evening if you’re free. Just the two of us.”

  Now it was Juliette’s turn to look at Claire with her brows knitted together. “Er, sure, let me just check Nadia’s and my joint calendar.” While Juliette turned her attention to her computer screen, where the ob-gyn appointment was marked in bright red, to check if Nadia hadn’t scheduled anything she had forgotten about, she wondered what was up with Claire.

  “Yep, that should work,” she said. “But please don’t tell me you’ll be cooking for me as well because I may just faint with shock.” Juliette curled her lips into a mischievous grin.

  “How does take-out Chinese sound?” Claire was holding on to the back of a chair and Juliette noticed how her knuckles had gone white.

  “Fine.” Juliette let her gaze drop to Claire’s hand. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, yes,” Claire tried to reassure her. “That’s a date then.” With that she rushed out of Juliette’s office as quickly as she had appeared. Clearly everything was not fine. It wasn’t that unusual for her oldest friend to invite her for a tête-à-tête at hers like that, but it had been a while. They held their best-friends talks at work, or at Le Comptoir after work. Juliette could only conclude that Claire had to tell her something very important. Come to think of it, ever since Margot’s accident, Claire hadn’t been herself. She behaved skittishly sometimes, and received text messages at odd hours, and she was clearly not telling Juliette something.

  The most obvious conclusion to draw was that Claire was seeing someone. Perhaps she wanted to introduce Juliette to the new woman in her life, or… the man. Maybe that was why Claire was behaving so erratically. She’d gone and fallen in love with a man. Juliette chuckled to herself while shaking her head. No, that surely wasn’t it. Either way, she would have to exercise some patience and wait until tomorrow night. She would have to tell Nadia she wouldn’t be spending Friday evening with her as soon as possible, before that became an issue. The best way to do that was to call her right now. She could do with hearing her wife’s voice.

  She dialed Nadia’s work number and hoped she wasn’t in one of those never-ending board meetings. But Nadia picked up after the second ring.

  “Allo, chérie,” Juliette said. “What are you wearing?”

  “Excuse me?” Nadia replied, then chuckled. “I’m wearing the exact same clothes you saw me leave the flat in this morning. How about yourself?”

  “I was just joking,” Juliette said. “Claire invited me to her place tomorrow evening. She was being all mysterious about it. The invitation didn’t extend to you, apparently. Is that okay?” Juliette feared the worst while waiting for a reply. As long as Juliette was still working full-time at Barbier & Cyr, she and Nadia had agreed to keep weekends free for each other. But, Juliette pondered, Friday evening wasn’t technically the weekend yet.

  “Sure, babe,” Nadia said, without the slightest hint of hesitation in her voice.

  “Okay, thanks.” Juliette had been very careful to protect their time together since they’d gotten married on that rainy day in November. It had been a small, intimate gathering, with just a handful of close friends and Nadia’s family present. After the quick ceremony at la mairie they’d gone to Georges at the top of the Centre Pompidou and had all gotten ridiculously drunk on Blanc de Blanc. Juliette couldn’t have imagined a more perfect day when they inelegantly tumbled out of the taxi that had dropped them home after the festivities. They were married now. Nothing could happen to them from that point onwards. A naive thought, perhaps, but one Juliette chose to believe nonetheless. “I won’t be home late.”

  “Take all the time you need,” Nadia said.

  Juliette tried not to give any more thought to her wife’s benevolent mood. “See you tonight, sweetheart,” she said before hanging up. It almost felt as though Nadia knew why Claire had invited Juliette to her apartment alone. Not that she had expected Nadia to throw a scene for having to spend Friday evening without her, but it was a decision they’d made together, and they were both fiercely protective of. Stop it with this nonsense at once, Juliette told herself. Because she really was trying to be a better life partner.

  When she’d slipped that ring on Nadia’s finger, she had vowed to herself that she would make more effort to be more present in their life together. It didn’t he
lp that they’d just launched Steph and Dominique’s video to a huge response, and that Barbier & Cyr was new to taking on PR tasks for a presidential campaign. Juliette knew she had done that to herself. So she would work as hard as she had to on weekdays, but weekends would only be for Nadia.

  Her gaze fell on that ob-gyn appointment again. It was all she thought about, really, when her brain wasn’t being consumed with work. Only last night she’d wanted to tell Nadia how utterly nervous she was—scared really—for a bad outcome. For the results that could destroy her dreams forever. The reason she hadn’t voiced her fear to her wife, the person she should be sharing this with, was that she didn’t want to push it. She’d gotten Nadia as far as having her go with her to see Dr. Dupuis, but it was clear that Nadia was still very much on the fence about something neither one of them should still have doubts about.

  Regardless, over the weekend, their conversations were bound to meander in that direction, what with the upcoming appointment approaching. And they were going to Lille on Sunday. To her niece’s sixteenth birthday party. Juliette was going to sit at a table with her brother and her father and eat birthday cake. She wasn’t doing it for either of them. She was doing it for herself and Nadia. So they could both witness the absolute splendor of children. It seemed to have worked quite well on Nadia so far. If Juliette had to swallow her pride, and all the pain her family had caused her, to get Nadia a step closer to wanting a child as much as Juliette did, then that was what she would do.

  MARGOT

  “Dr. de Hay,” Marie Dievart said. “Will you do me the honor of joining me for lunch?”

  Margot briefly considered saying she didn’t have time for lunch, but then decided she actually wanted to hear what Dievart was going to say. Whether she would drop any hints as Nadia had suggested, or utter anything else that would, once again, display her villainous character traits. “Sure,” Margot replied.

  “How’s the leg holding up?” Dievart asked as they made their way to the cafeteria.

  “It’s very glad to be of use again.” Margot wondered for how long she would need to make small talk, and why exactly she was doing this to herself.

  “It’s good that you can keep a sense of humor about this, Margot.” Dievart jutted Margot in the biceps inappropriately. “I can call you Margot, can’t I?”

  Margot didn’t want to be the doctor who insisted on being called doctor, not in front of Dievart. “Sure,” she said again, keeping her tone as flat as possible.

  When they sat down, Dievart leaned over the table, and almost whispered, “I probably shouldn’t say this too loud, but something similar happened to me back in Brussels. It wasn’t a DUI, and I won’t go into too many details, but I understand what you’re going through, Margot. I really do.”

  This took Margot completely from left field. She hadn’t expected understanding when all she’d been bracing for was sarcasm and misplaced ironic wit. “Is that why you left the hospital you were working at?”

  “Amongst other reasons, but it surely contributed to my decision.” Dievart pinned her eery light-blue gaze on Margot. “I just wanted you to know that I realize how difficult it is to come back after you think you’ve failed.”

  Margot’s curiosity was piqued. Would Claire know what she was talking about? Suddenly, she had a very strong desire to find out what had happened with Dievart in Brussels. Odds were it was a case of sexual harassment that wouldn’t go away, of course. You couldn’t hit on just about every woman who tickled your fancy and not expect to face the consequences at some point. “Thanks,” Margot said. “I appreciate that.” She really did.

  “Us doctors, we have to stick together more.” Dievart ate her baguette with gusto. She paused her speech to take a huge bite and chew it. To her amazement, Margot couldn’t disagree with her. “Speaking of sticking together.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t just excel at operating on brains, I also cook a very mean steak. Could I possibly persuade you to sample my steak cooking skills one of these days?” Dievart kept her gaze firmly on Margot.

  “Really?” Margot’s reaction was visceral, born purely from instinct.

  “Hm-mm.” Dievart nodded her head. “Why not?”

  Margot huffed out a chuckle. “Just to avoid any misinterpretation of what is going on here.” Margot straightened her posture. “You are asking me to come to dinner at your house? You’re asking me on a date?”

  “I don’t see what’s wrong with that, Margot? Only assuming you’re single, of course, but even if you’re not, it never hurts to keep your options open.”

  “Keep my options open.” Margot dropped her sandwich on her plate. “Look.” Margot lowered her voice the way Dievart had done earlier. What she’d just said was probably just a ploy to get her claws into Margot. “I know you’re seeing Claire, okay? If you think there’s nothing wrong with asking me out while that is the case, then that is your right, I guess, but I, personally, have a big problem with that.”

  “I see.” Dievart sat there scrunching her lips together as though Margot had just explained a challenging medical problem to her that needed some serious pondering. “Well, I’m not really one to restrict myself with the misconceived concept of monogamy, but we’re all different, I guess.”

  “I do hope you’ve made this clear to Claire,” Margot blurted out before she had a chance to think. The thought of this callous woman hurting Claire got under her skin much more than she’d expected.

  “Claire and I are both adults who know exactly what to expect from our get-togethers.”

  “I’m sure you are.” Margot had lost all appetite. Should she talk to Claire? Was this even any of her business still? “You shouldn’t ever expect me at your house for a steak, or for anything else.” Margot pushed her chair back. She’d had enough of this.

  “Your loss,” Dievart had the audacity to say. Margot could kick herself for actually believing she was being nice to her at the beginning of their lunch date.

  She stormed off in search of Nadia without giving Dievart any further attention.

  ✶ ✶ ✶

  “She just hit on me, Nadia.” Margot wondered if the motorcycle accident had altered her personality, what with the way she stood shouting in Nadia’s office. Or was this a residue of her feelings for Claire? “The woman is just…” A horde of expletives popped up in Margot’s brain, but this was still her place of work, and she didn’t want to utter them, despite her having firmly closed the door of Nadia’s office upon arrival.

  Nadia shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  “I’m going to dig into her work history, Nadz. I’m going to find something on her. I’ve worked with many egomaniacs, but this one takes the cake. She’s too much.”

  Nadia sighed a deep sigh. “I have her résumé on file,” she said. “Which, of course, I’m not allowed to share with you, but I can tell you there’s nothing irregular in there. On the contrary, it’s chockfull of recommendations of all the hospitals she’s worked at.”

  A light bulb went off in Margot’s head. “How many hospitals has she worked at exactly?”

  Nadia pulled up her eyebrows. “I don’t know by heart. I would have to check.”

  “Will you check, please? For me? And for every other woman she has angered beyond measure?” Margot expected this included Nadia.

  “What are you after?” Nadia asked. “Has she said anything else?”

  Margot couldn’t keep her legs from bouncing up and down in an excited fashion. “I thought working with my ex was bad, but working alongside that woman is a million times worse. It’s as though she knows exactly how to get under my skin. If she hurts Claire, I swear to God…” But what would Margot do? Run her over with the motorcycle she no longer had? What was it that stung her the most? Dievart’s relentless innuendo, or the fact that she had seen Margot at her very worst? Or, perhaps, that she had Claire wrapped around her finger and was surely out to hurt her?

  Nadia swiveled her chair around and started digging in
to a file cabinet behind her. When she faced Margot again, she said, in her most earnest voice, “You can never tell anyone that I’ve shared this information with you. I could lose my job over this.” She tapped her fingers on the manila folder that held the information Margot was after. “And another thing, Margot. Er, we’ve been working together for a while now, and I’ve seen you riled up, but not even when Inez first started working here were you this upset. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Margot knew she would never be the same person she was before the accident. She had betrayed herself too much for that. She would never forgive herself for the pain she’d caused others. But she knew one thing very clearly: she needed this. She needed to take Dr. Marie Dievart down. She may be a brilliant surgeon, her résumé glowing with recommendations, but people like her—people with not a shred of integrity in their body—didn’t deserve to be doctors. “I’m fine,” Margot said, because, truth be told, she hadn’t felt this alive since she had nearly died.

  Nadia nodded. She probably wanted to take down Dievart as much as Margot did, because not only had she succumbed to the neurosurgeon’s advances, she would have Juliette to deal with all over again once Claire told her about her secret affair. “I can’t actually show this to you. I’ll just tell you how many hospitals she’s worked at.” Nadia slipped a bundle of papers out of the folder and perused them. “She’s been employed by eight.”

  “Eight?” Margot knew she was onto something. She trusted her gut completely on this. “And how old is she?”

  Nadia pulled her face into an expression that said, Really? Now you’re pushing it.

  “Come on, Nadz. Saint-Vincent is only the second hospital I’ve worked at throughout my entire career. She must be in her late forties and she has worked at eight?” Margot was sure there was a pattern to be detected in Dievart’s hospital hopping.