Season Five: French Kissing, Book 5

by Harper Bliss

  “I wish I could help you. If you’re still on the air when I’m a free woman again, you know I will,” Steph said.

  “I might not be. Not if I have to wait another five years to have you on. You know us French like to retire early.”

  “You’re not the kind to retire early. Whatever would you do with yourself?” Steph gazed at Aurore. She looked suddenly deflated.

  “I don’t know what the definition of happiness is,” Aurore said. “Probably the opposite of what I’m feeling right now. The opposite of this emptiness in my chest.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Can you concoct a magic potion that turns Solange into a left-wing girl?” Aurore tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear.

  “I’ve tried that already but my potion turned out not to be so magical.” Aurore looked so forlorn, Steph was close to offering to talk to Solange on her behalf—even though that would be a very bad idea.

  “I feel like I need to make a very big decision,” Aurore said. She dropped her feet to the floor and sat up straighter. “Either I put my full weight behind Rivière’s campaign, not only because of my beliefs, but because I need the distraction.” She paused. “Or I distance myself from Rivière and try to get Solange back.” She gazed at Steph with hope in her glance—as if Steph knew the answer to that conundrum.

  “You would do that? For Solange?”

  “Maybe I do need to make a sacrifice,” Aurore said. “Maybe that’s what true love requires.”

  “Only you can know what to do.”

  “I figured you would say that.” Aurore’s shoulders sagged again. “It’s not even so much about Rivière. It’s more that my entire existence is founded on my beliefs. I have marched and protested and fought for more equality all my life. And in today’s world, the rich just get richer and more powerful, and I’ve started seeing Solange as a symbol of that. Because she’s in power and nothing has changed for the poor—on the contrary. The other day she was working on this tax reform bill and even though she didn’t let me read it—she would never—the thought of it made my stomach turn. I know it’s not her fault. But she works at the Elysée.” She glanced up at Steph. “I’m not sure I’m making myself clear. Sometimes it’s hard to translate a gut feeling like that into coherent sentences.”

  “I get it, Aurore, I do.” Aurore usually didn’t have trouble expressing how she felt. Steph guessed it was a blend of too many French 75s and the gut-wrenching effects of heartache. “I was raised by a single mother. We didn’t have much, but we got by because the state didn’t leave us to fend for ourselves. I will always be grateful for that.”

  “And now you’re engaged to the president.” Aurore titled her head. “Dominique owes a large part of her presidency to you, you do know that?”

  “I did work on her—”

  “Because she fell in love with you during the campaign. It made her so relatable. So very human.”

  “I think you’re forgetting the very crucial fact that I’m a woman.”

  “Whatever she lost on the right because of that, she gained back tenfold on the left.” Aurore stared at her. “I believe in Rivière as a candidate so much, but I think, in the end, she won’t be able to beat Dominique, because Dominique has something that neither Anne nor Marechal have.” She actually pointed a finger at Steph. “She has you.”

  “Enough campaign talk.” Steph truly believed Aurore had crossed over into complete rubbish talk territory. “I hope you find a way out of your dilemma.” She pushed herself out of Aurore’s very cushy sofa. “I’d better head back to my palace.” She winked at Aurore.

  “If you do talk to Solange, please don’t tell her I’m a right old mess.”

  “You have the word of the first lady.”

  Claire

  “We haven’t had sex in months,” Claire said. Juliette was probably the only person on the planet she could confide in about this—after all, Juliette had done the same with her when she and Nadia had gone through something similar.

  “Margot’s mother and father died within weeks of each other,” Juliette said. “I can only imagine the effect that might have on one’s libido.”

  “I don’t need to be reminded of the deaths in the family.” Claire paced to the window. “I live with them every second of every day.”

  “I know it’s hard, but you need to be patient.”

  Claire turned to the window so she had her back to Juliette. “She wants to go to Korea and find her birth parents. What if they’re dead as well. Or nothing comes of it. Or they’re still alive but don’t want to know about her existence. All of this is very possible and it will only cause more grief. And she’s had so much grief already this past year. I’m not sure how much more she can take.”

  “Oh, wow,” was all Juliette said.

  “She’s been thinking about it a while, but only voiced it recently.”

  “It might be a logical response to having lost her adoptive parents.”

  “Yeah, like she has a spare set of parents out there somewhere and finding them will take away the pain of losing the ones who raised her.” Claire dug her hands into her blazer pockets.

  “What did you say to her?” Juliette asked.

  “I was supportive, of course. What else can I do?” Claire stared out into the street.

  “For someone who was a happy single for decades, you’re quite good at the old marriage thing.” Juliette’s voice sounded uncharacteristically soft.

  Claire sighed, then turned around. She had to see the look on Juliette’s face that accompanied that tone of voice. Juliette’s expression wasn’t any different than usual, though. Claire leaned against the windowsill—the same one she had leaned against countless times. It must have imprints where her hands gripped it every time she stood in Juliette’s office like this. “If I’m being completely honest,” she said, then paused—because this was hard to admit. “It’s the change in dynamic between us that has thrown me most of all. Margot is always so incredibly independent and caring. It’s one of the things that drew me to her.” Claire stopped. Perhaps she was afraid that if she translated her thoughts into words they would gain more power.

  “In the grand scheme of your life, you and Margot have only been together a brief time. And shit will always happen, Claire. But Margot has you. She has Nadia. She has her sister. If she goes on a mad search for her biological parents, maybe it will be more like a spiritual quest. More about the journey than the outcome.”

  Claire blinked a few times. Not because of an onset of tears in her eyes, but because of Juliette’s philosophical words. “I just don’t want her to fall apart again. Not the way she did last time.”

  “Things are different now.” Juliette’s philosophical inclinations had apparently come to an end. “And Margot’s parents got to witness their daughter marry you.” Juliette painted on a smile.

  Claire’s chest glowed warmly at the memory of the day. Margot had looked so stunning. Strong and regal, queen of everything and everyone.

  Juliette’s phone started ringing. Claire turned back towards the window while Juliette answered it. Her mind landed on another memory. The desperate look on Margot’s face when her mother had passed a mere month after her father had succumbed to a heart attack. The utter devastation. The disbelief. The unfairness of it all. Maybe because she was a doctor Margot believed she could keep her parents alive forever.

  “Have you heard of En Avant?” Juliette asked after she’d hung up.

  Claire pivoted back and shook her head. She guessed their heart-to-heart was over. That was fine. Work would distract her for a few more hours today. She did wonder how Margot was getting on. How she mentally prepared for something as all-absorbing as surgery.

  “We’re in demand these days. Everyone wants to work with the firm that got Dominique Laroche elected last time.”

  Claire walked to Juliette’s desk and sat. “And we have to turn them all down.”

  “Dominique’s going to run aga
in,” Juliette said.

  “En Avant?” Claire racked her brain. “Never heard of them.”

  “Small, new, and potentially dangerous, I think.” Juliette leaned back in her chair. “When I say Dominique’s going to run again, I am by no means claiming that re-election will be an easy task.”

  “In a way”—Claire was already preparing for Juliette’s reaction, but someone had to play devil’s advocate—“it would be a wonderful challenge if we were able to take on a small, brand-new party and help them win.”

  “That’s not very loyal.” Juliette wasn’t flying off the handle yet.

  “We’re in PR, Jules. We spin things to make people look loyal, but we know damn well what happens behind the scenes.”

  “That may be so,” Juliette leaned forward again, “but in this case it’s different. Steph’s a partner in this firm and Dominique’s her fiancée. They’re our friends. Our loyalty should not be up for discussion for even a second.”

  Claire shrugged. “All I’m saying is that, if Dominique were to make the very human decision to forego the presidential election, we could have some fun working with another, smaller party.”

  Juliette shook her head. “We can’t do that. What about Steph? It’s simply not ethical.”

  “Come on, Steph may be a partner in name, but she doesn’t really work here anymore. She would understand that we have to move on.”

  “Seriously?” Juliette pinned her gaze on Claire.

  “You’re really going soft with age, Jules. First, you want to work only thirty hours per week and now… this. This is not how we built this company.”

  “We’re hardly a start-up anymore. Barbier & Cyr will keep running regardless of whether we take on a presidential campaign. And I happen to believe friendship and loyalty are far more important than making more money—”

  “It’s not about the money,” Claire butted in. She knew she was out of line, but she burned with the need to get her point across. Despite the conflict, she felt invigorated because of the direction this conversation was taking. “It’s about the challenge.”

  “I won’t allow it.” Juliette crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Not even if Steph agrees? It would be two against one.” Claire looked her friend straight in the eye.

  “You’re talking about things that are never going to happen.” Juliette looked away. “I know you’re—”

  Claire held up a hand. “Please don’t patronise me again by saying that you understand Margot and I are going through a rough time. Just don’t, Jules. I just want to work. I want to do something important, or at least be part of something important.” The next thought that flitted through her brain was one she couldn’t express yet—Juliette would have a fit there and then.

  But what if she got in touch with Aurore Seauve? She was very chummy with Anne Rivière. It would just be a conversation—all innocent enough. They were acquaintances. And she and Dominique’s chief of staff were no longer together. Just to hear what was what.

  Claire rose from her chair. “Just try to keep an open mind, Jules.”

  Margot

  “How was work?” Margot asked. “Still talking about shortening the work week?” She poured Claire a glass of wine. Ever since her motorcycle accident, Margot hardly touched a drop herself.

  Claire sighed. “Some days…” was all she said.

  “That’s rather cryptic, chérie.” Margot nestled next to Claire on the sofa. “That’s more my style.”

  “Sometimes… I think that perhaps Juliette and I have been working together for too long. People change. You’re the one who told me that most cells in our body are replaced every so often. The only constant in life is change. We’ve both changed. And it feels like we want different things for the company. While Jules wants to scale down, I want the opposite.”

  “Really?” Margot knew she didn’t have to say much. Once Claire got going, it was difficult to stop her.

  “It’s been years since we’ve done something truly ground-breaking. And according to Juliette, if Dominique doesn’t run, we can’t possibly work for another party. I disagree.”

  “She’ll run,” Margot said. “It won’t be an issue.”

  “So everyone keeps saying, but I’m not so sure. That is some serious doubt to express for a sitting president.”

  “But you do agree that if Dominique does run, this whole problem goes away because you’ll be working on her campaign.”

  “I guess so.”

  “You sound disappointed.” Margot sat up a little so she could get a look at Claire’s face.

  “What?” Claire asked.

  “I’m just a little surprised.”

  “It’s been more than twenty years. I’ve never done anything else in my life than PR. I think I’m allowed to get sick of the whole rigmarole once in a while.”

  “Of course you’re allowed, but… you made it sound more as though you were sick of Juliette.”

  “I’m not sick of Jules. She’s my best friend and she always will be. But she seems much less invested in it all lately.”

  “There’s more to life than work.” Margot knew she sounded like the biggest hypocrite in the world.

  “Yeah right, babe.” Claire sat up as well and they glanced at each other.

  “There’s marriage.” Margot winked at her wife. “There’s me.” She didn’t want to say there’s family because she wouldn’t be able to get the words past her lips just yet.

  “Hm. True.” Claire got that glint in her eye. She took hold of Margot’s arm and pulled her close, until their faces were a mere inch apart. “I think I’ll focus really hard on you tonight.” Claire pressed her lips against Margot’s.

  Margot couldn’t help it—at least she didn’t think she could—but her lips didn’t open. Her mouth didn’t welcome Claire’s tongue inside.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Claire retreated silently.

  Margot looked away because she didn’t want to see the wounded look in her wife’s eyes.

  “I need a little bit more time.” Margot’s voice was but a whisper.

  “I know.” Claire reached for her glass of wine. “It’s fine, babe. I understand.” She patted Margot’s knee briefly—as though she was a child who needed a little reassurance.

  Margot was pretty sure Claire didn’t really understand, although she was doing a pretty good job of pretending she did. Then again, Margot wasn’t doing a very good job of explaining herself. But how could she find the words for the emptiness inside? She could perform her job—she could shut everything else out and get on with it. They were practised moves, after all, perfected after years of experience. But opening up and letting Claire in seemed like the biggest impossibility in the world right now. It was a state so vulnerable, Margot couldn’t even imagine how to get there again. Something inside her needed to heal before she could allow herself to be so vulnerable again.

  “Hey.” She took Claire’s hands in hers. “I’m not on call this weekend. Let’s do something fun. Let’s just ride somewhere on the bike and see where we end up.”

  “Sure.” Claire offered a weak smile.

  Oh Christ, Margot thought. This was only the start of the weekend—and she hadn’t told Claire about Inez’ possible return to Saint-Vincent yet.

  On her motorcycle was the only place where Margot truly felt like herself. Other people practised meditation, Margot got on her bike and just rode. Although, the past five years, Paris had gotten so congested that most times she could hardly find a way through traffic. There were simply too many cars in the city and not enough roads to accommodate them all. She’d seen people zoom past her on electric scooters, but working in a hospital she knew what could be the result of that. Or maybe she was just too cautious—especially after the accident that could have ended her life. At least now, she thought, if something happened to her—or her sister—her parents would be spared that.

  Margot remembered them sitting by her hospital bed, a
lready so frail and old, but both of them still fiercely independent. She remembered thinking they shouldn’t have to go through that. They didn’t have to see their daughter, who was a doctor and meant to be taking care of them now, looking so weak and broken in a hospital bed.

  Perhaps if Margot could forgive herself for that, for having done that to her own parents, she’d be able to deal with their death better. Death was no stranger to her, after all. Margot knew that not everyone could be saved by medicine and that death was an inevitable part of life. She loved her parents because they had adopted her and given her a life that would probably otherwise have been denied her. In her rational mind, which, Margot liked to believe, was the only mind she listened to, she’d always known that the day would come when they would no longer be around—and that it might not be that far off. Yet both their deaths had been such a sudden blow.

  Her father had suffered a brutal heart attack. He was there one minute, gone the next. Her mother had died of a stroke in her sleep. She’d gone to bed in the evening and not woken up the next morning. As far as ways to die went, her death had been painless and swift. But she’d had the sorrow of being left alone. Margot shook off the dark thoughts and focussed on Claire’s arms around her waist instead.

  She remembered how, at the start of their relationship, when she’d first taken Claire out on the back of her bike, Claire had held on for dear life, leaving Margot with actual bruises on her sides. These days, she sat much more relaxed, her hands merely resting against Margot’s waist, and she only pressed them further into Margot’s leather jacket when they took a sharp turn.

  Then Margot’s mind flitted to what Nadia had told her the other day. And what she had said to Nadia in reply to the news of Inez returning from her long stint abroad with Médecins Sans Frontières. That she truly couldn’t care less. But if that was the case, then why hadn’t she casually dropped it into conversation with her wife yet? Why was it so hard to say if it didn’t mean anything to Margot? She had yet to figure that out, and before she did, she didn’t think it would be fair to tell Claire.