Season Five: French Kissing, Book 5

by Harper Bliss

  “That’s what you get when your entire professional life hinges on one person,” Solange said, to her own surprise. That sounded like something Aurore would say.

  “I’m sure some brave MLR soul would run instead of Dominique.” Steph’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Solange shook her head. “No one even comes close.”

  “Hey.” Steph narrowed her eyes. “No matter what happens, everything will be all right, you know.”

  “That’s easy enough for you to say.” Solange found some comfort in Steph’s gaze.

  “You know what? It’s really not. I’m just as torn about this as Dominique. She’s suffering right now. She’s sleeping even less than usual. She’s at a loss and she must have been brooding about this for a long time, but she couldn’t tell anyone, because she knew we would all be up in arms about it the second she opened her mouth.” Steph sighed. “It’s hard to see the person you love suffer.”

  Had Solange made Aurore, the person she loved, suffer? Of course she had. But Aurore was the kind to give as good as she got—in all departments. Aurore Seauve was a remarkable woman. By all accounts, it had been a miracle that she had even shown up in Solange’s life at all. Let alone that she had tried—and ultimately succeeded—in seducing her.

  At least they wouldn’t make each other suffer any longer.

  Dominique

  “A rare quiet moment?” Philippe asked. He used to look so comfortable, so natural, in her presence. But today he truly had the air of someone who’d been summoned to the Elysée by his president. But it wasn’t the president who had summoned him, it was the mother of his children.

  “We need to talk.” Dominique rubbed her hands together. “But before we do, you need to know that you can’t tell anyone about this conversation. Not even Angelique.”

  “What’s going on?” Philippe crossed and uncrossed his legs.

  “Tell me, in the most honest words you can find, how Lisa and Didier are doing, according to you?”

  “They’re doing fine. Why do you ask?” He scratched the back of his head. His hairline had receded more. Soon, he wouldn’t have any hair left.

  “They’re teenagers now. They’re getting to a more difficult age.”

  “They’re children of divorced parents, but they’re by no means the only ones among their friends. They’ve handled it pretty well.”

  “Ever since…” Dominique swallowed hard. “Since Lisa had the accident and crushed her hand, I’ve had this persistent, nagging feeling in my gut. I’m not there for them. I’m not even their secondary caregiver because that would be Angelique. Even Stéphanie spends more time with them. The truth is, I’m not there for my own children. My own flesh and blood. I feel, in my bones, that it’s not right. It’s not how things are supposed to be.”

  Philippe stroked the stubble on his chin. “Do you want to amend the custody arrangement again? Because I don’t see how you could possibly make more time for them?”

  Dominique threw her hands in the air. “That’s just the thing.” She cast him a fleeting glance, then looked away. “That’s what I want to talk about. As long as I’m president, I will never have enough time for them.”

  “That’s a pretty established fact.” Philippe’s penny wasn’t dropping just yet.

  “I’m not sure I should run again. For the children’s sake.”

  Philippe stopped stroking his chin and pinned his gaze on hers. He didn’t say anything for a few long moments. “I’m not buying it,” he said, finally.

  “What do you mean?” Even though what she’d said was, according to her, entirely true, Dominique felt a blush creep up her cheeks—as though she’d been caught in a lie.

  “I don’t doubt your love and devotion for Lisa and Didier, but I don’t think they’re the real reason you would give up the chance at another term. I know you, Domi. Something else is at play here. And if that’s the case, if you have a reason not to run again, a reason compelling enough to sit me down and ask me how the kids are doing, then you probably shouldn’t run again. Being president is not a ninety-nine percent commitment job. You need to be in two hundred percent.”

  Leave it to her ex-husband to have Dominique at a complete loss as to what to say next.

  “I’m simply not convinced, but I will say this,” Philippe continued.

  Might as well, now that you’re on a roll, Dominique thought.

  “You can’t have it all. You can’t be the perfect mother and be a good president at the same time. It’s not a realistic expectation. We both know this, which is why Lisa and Didier live with me full-time. They have me, a very loving father. They’re well taken care of. Yes, they miss you. Of course they do. But it’s their normal now. They’re not deprived of that much. God knows they’re a million times better off than most kids. They are loved and they know it. Their mother is this country’s president. Most days, that’s more than enough.”

  “Good speech.” Dominique didn’t immediately know how to respond to Philippe’s words.

  “Don’t be so sarcastic when we’re talking about the children, Dominique. What’s this really about?”

  “You must know me better than I know myself, because I genuinely believed that not being a good enough mother is what made me have these doubts. Because you’re right about the fact that I need to be all in to run again. Otherwise, it’s impossible.”

  “I know that you will be all in, once you’ve made the decision. I never said it’s not also completely normal to have doubts. It’s a big thing, a huge commitment. You’re supposed to question it.”

  “Ah, thank god, finally someone says the words I want to hear.” Already, a small weight seemed lifted from Dominique’s shoulders. She’d known Philippe longer than most people in her life. Perhaps it was logical that he still could read her best.

  “Obviously no one in the party is going to allow you to express this doubt. What about Steph?”

  This gave Dominique pause. What about Steph? She hadn’t even guessed that Dominique had doubts. She blindly accepted that Lisa and Didier were the reason for her hesitation. But she couldn’t fault her fiancée for not being able to read her thoughts—especially since those thoughts had not yet made their way to Dominique’s own conscious mind. No, Steph was not to blame for this at all. It was just a little disconcerting that Philippe had to be the one to call her out on this.

  “Steph supports me no matter what.”

  “I suppose she may want to actually marry you sometime soon.” A grimace appeared on Philippe’s face. He had remarried so he had no right to that grimace at all.

  “I want that too.” Dominique paused. “We’ve never been able to be just Dominique and Steph. I met her when I was a candidate and then I became president. There were times when I didn’t think our relationship would survive—plenty of them, actually.”

  “But it did and that’s what’s most important.”

  “When did you become such a guru of wisdom?”

  Philippe cleared his throat. “Angelique is quite into mindfulness, lately. Some of it must have rubbed off on me. We even meditate with the children sometimes.”

  “You do?” Dominique quirked up her eyebrows.

  “You can’t teach them young enough.”

  Something else Dominique didn’t know about her own children. “It’s not one reason that has me doubting my future,” she finally admitted. “It’s many. Too many.”

  “Would it help to speak them out loud? Give them a voice?”

  “I’ve written them down.” Dominique reached for the key in the top drawer of her desk and opened the bottom drawer with it. She got a secret thrill from keeping this document in her office at the Elysée. The place where she conducted her presidential tasks.

  She took the notepad out of the drawer, flipped a few pages and rested her gaze on the list she had put together.

  She cleared her throat and started reading. “I want to spend more time with my children. I want time to marry Stéphanie and enjoy our re
lationship. I want to have a lie-in on a Sunday morning and not worry about the million things I have to do and decide. I want control over my time. I want Solange to not tell me what to do every minute of every day. I want to have a conversation with my father about something else than politics. I want to make dinner for friends. I want to be alone in my own house. I want to…” She stopped reading and glanced at Philippe.

  “You want a normal life,” Philippe stated matter-of-factly. “But even if you’re no longer president, your life will never be normal, whatever normal may be. In fact, these days, I think we consider what we see on TV as normal.”

  “I don’t have time to watch TV,” Dominique countered.

  “You’re an extraordinary woman, Domi,” Philippe said. “You weren’t born to do ordinary things. I can’t tell you what to do. I can only assure you that the kids will be fine if you do a second term as president. I promise you that.”

  “Didier will be going to university by the time that second term is over.”

  “Time doesn’t stop for anyone, not even the president.” Philippe rose. “How about you check your calendar right now and tell me when you’re free to have a meal with us. It doesn’t matter when. I’ll make sure the kids and I are available. It can be dinner at five, if we must.”

  “I’m going to have to get back to you on that. But I will.” Dominique stood as well. “Later today.”

  “Come here.” Philippe opened his arms wide.

  Even though it had been years since Dominique had been on the receiving end of one of her ex-husband’s embraces, she stepped into this one willingly and eagerly.

  Steph

  Steph met Aurore for dinner at her place near the Bois de Boulogne. She hadn’t wanted to invite Aurore to the Elysée, and these days, she rarely went to restaurants with friends. It was one of the trade-offs she had to make as first lady.

  “But I’m not a lady,” she had said to Dominique during the first year of her presidency. “Let alone the first one of the republic.”

  “What shall we call you then? First tomboy?” Dominique had smiled her most seductive smile then, and the conversation had stopped altogether a few seconds later.

  Steph made a mental note to, under no circumstances, discuss Dominique’s current quandary with Aurore. In political terms, she was the enemy. How had Anne Rivière seen Aurore’s relationship with Solange, she wondered. That would be a good topic of conversation. Besides, Steph was getting sick of needing to have opinions on whether Dominique would run or not. And the news wasn’t even supposed to be officially out yet.

  “Ah, mon amie.” Aurore drew her into a hug straightaway. The woman was so tactile—quite the opposite of Solange. “I have prepared us a cocktail.” She led Steph into the living room and pointed at a tray with two Champagne flutes on it. “A French 75, because we’re so patriotic.”

  “You’re very cheery,” Steph said as she accepted the cocktail. These days, she never had to worry about how to get home, so she eagerly sipped from the beverage. It was tart and sparkly and slid down well.

  “That’s because I’ve had one of these already,” Aurore said. “No matter what was going on in our beloved country, Solange would always come by on a Friday night. Sometimes she’d slip into my bed well past midnight, but she always showed up. She made a point of that. Tonight, I’ll be sleeping alone, and tomorrow morning I’ll be waking up alone, so I figured I could allow myself a small libation to kick off the evening.” She held up her glass. “Thanks for drinking with me.”

  “My pleasure.” They sat, and Steph looked around Aurore’s cosy apartment. Steph lived in ever-pristine digs. If she undressed on the way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes on the stairs, she could be sure to find her clothes neatly folded—sometimes even washed and ironed—the next morning. What a way to live. Without any sort of outward mess.

  “How is she?” Aurore asked.

  “I’m not the right person to ask.”

  “You must have seen her.”

  “I have, but Solange isn’t really the sharing kind, in case you’ve forgotten all about her ways already. Even if she were to pour out her soul, I would be the last person she would confide in.”

  Aurore shook her head. “I know you two got off on the wrong foot because of this weird possessiveness issue over Dominique, but Solange does respect you. She looks up to you even.”

  Steph scoffed. “Please don’t insult my intelligence.”

  “I’m not insulting anything. I’m just telling you how things are.”

  “Or how you think they are.” Steph took another sip. This really was a treacherous drink. She should ask for some water to go with it.

  “So she hasn’t given anything away?”

  “She did tell Dominique the two of you had broken up, but that’s it. She’s not one to bring personal affairs to the office.”

  “But, unfortunately, she did bring the office into our personal affairs all the time.” Aurore’s voice was soaked in bitterness—and that cocktail she was pouring.

  “Of course she did.”

  “Camille said something funny to me the other day.” Aurore twirled her glass between her hands. “She asked if I was willing to sacrifice anything at all to save my relationship with Solange. It got me thinking.”

  “What would you sacrifice?” Steph asked.

  Aurore pulled up one shoulder. “You and I, we believe the same things, Steph. We believe that the rich have to help the poor. We believe that people born in unfortunate circumstances deserve a chance, and that this chance needs to be provided by the state.”

  “Many people believe in that. Dominique included.”

  “Nu-uh. Dominique is Xavier Laroche’s daughter and that man has never believed in anything else but the most opportunist form of capitalism. But capitalism has failed a lot of people.”

  Steph let the comment about Dominique slide. “I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with Solange? I’m not quite following.” Steph had come here to lend a listening ear to her friend, not for a political debate. Even though, in the circles she frequented now, any conversation could so easily turn into a debate.

  “In your heart,” Aurore said, “you’re a leftie. Which is one of the reasons you and I get along so well. Fundamentally, we believe the same things. Yet you’re engaged to a right-wing president.”

  “Moderately right-wing,” Steph corrected. “A staunch free market liberal with some very left-leaning convictions. Dominique’s more of a centrist, really.”

  “But still.”

  “If you’re trying to say that Dominique and I don’t share the exact same political views, then you’re right. But, as in many other things, we’ve learned to find each other in the middle.”

  “Do you feel you have to sacrifice to do so?”

  “Not anymore. And what I have sacrificed are not my beliefs.”

  “It’s funny. Dominique has always been the poster girl for the MLR, yet she’s in a successful relationship with you. Solange…” Her voice cracked.

  Steph allowed a silence to fall so Aurore could regroup.

  “Solange’s very, very good at her job. She has a dedication that I’ve rarely seen,” Steph said. “To my own detriment. But that doesn’t mean her views and political beliefs are set in stone.”

  “Yet when it came to same-sex marriage and opening up the use of donor sperm, she advised Dominique to come out against them.”

  “That’s because Solange’s even more torn between what the people want and what the MLR wants. Add to that what Dominique, her boss, wants. She often finds herself between a rock and a hard place. Her job is as tough as the president’s, if not tougher—with none of the credit.”

  “Wow.” Aurore deposited her empty glass on the table. “And that coming from you.”

  “We often don’t see eye to eye, but I still realise her life is bloody hard. It takes a special kind of personality to be able to do her job.”

  “Tell me about it.”


  “It probably doesn’t make her prime significant-other material. She and Dominique have totally different personalities.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t only the political divide that drove us apart,” Aurore said.

  “Breakups rarely happen for one reason alone.” Steph finished her cocktail.

  “I made dinner,” Aurore said, rather abruptly. “Let’s eat.”

  Dinner had been light—a salad with cheese and ham—and Aurore had kept pouring cocktails, leaving Steph with quite the heavy buzz afterwards.

  “Tell me something.” They had retired to the sofa and Aurore lay with her feet propped against the side of the coffee table. “Are you happy?”

  “Christ.” Steph sipped from the water she had finally asked for. “Where’s that coming from?”

  “I know it’s a simple and complex question at the same time. It’s probably not even a yes or no question.”

  “I may need to get back to you on that.”

  “That probably means you’re not as happy as you’d like to be. Because you feel the need to come up with a few reasons and explanations first.”

  “What’s your definition of happiness?” Steph countered.

  Aurore chuckled. “Good comeback. When are you going to come on my show?”

  “Not as long as I’m first”—Steph had trouble saying the word again—“lady.”

  “Such a pity. We could talk about what the word lady implies. And what if Dominique had been in a relationship with a man. Would he have been dubbed the ‘First Gentleman’? It’s all so ridiculous and reductive.”

  “Don’t get me started on that, please.”

  “My numbers need a boost. My live listenership has plummeted. When I do a call-in, it’s always the same five people who call. It’s all about podcasts and on-demand programs, these days.”