by Doyle, S.
“Yes.”
* * *
Dinner on the Seine
Julia
“Are you cold?”
I shook my head. We were inside the main cabin of a boat coasting us along the Seine. We’d finished the main course and Ethan had ordered something for dessert as well as more champagne. And I was sitting here, watching snow fall on the Eiffel Tower, which was lit up in a way that it sparkled, thinking I would never forget this night. I looked at Ethan and thought how familiar his face was to me.
“You need trim your eyebrows,” I told him.
He wiggled them instead. “You look beautiful, Jules.”
He did, too. He was wearing his white tuxedo jacket and bow tie, which complemented my simple but elegant backless black cocktail dress.
It was cut pretty severely in the front as well. When I’d tried it on at the store, I felt stunning and sexy. When I’d changed into it back at the hotel and considered I would be sitting across from Ethan in this dress, I’d felt…naked. And a little nervous.
Now…now I felt beautiful.
“I feel like…I don’t know. Is it too cliché to say I feel like Cinderella? Only I’m taking this dress home with me and I would prefer that the car you hired for this trip not turn into a pumpkin.”
“Fair enough.”
“Should we be talking about work? Should I be helping you strategize for tomorrow’s meetings?” I asked him because that was my role in the company. That’s why he’d brought me here. For business. But if we had to talk shop, I knew it would probably break something in my heart.
“No. I got everything I needed done today.”
I could actually feel myself pouting. In my life, I had never pouted.
“Are you pouting?” Ethan’s eyebrows shot up and it made me chuckle.
“It must be the Parisian air. My lips just did this thing when you said something that I didn’t like.”
“Didn’t like?”
“Well, if you’re done with work, don’t we have to leave?” I asked. It would mean spending Christmas Eve on a plane flying to Seattle. I would then have to decide if it made sense to try to get to my mom’s for Christmas Day.
“I thought tomorrow we could spend the day touring Versailles.”
I gasped. “Oh, I always wanted to see Versailles, but it can’t possibly be open tomorrow. It’s Christmas Eve.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It is for us.”
At that moment the waiter brought us another bottle of champagne and some chocolate debauchery. I knew Ethan would take one bite of it and leave me to eat the rest. Bastard. He knew I was helpless against chocolate.
Ethan always said he loved watching me eat dessert because it gave him a glimpse into what I must have looked like as a little girl. The part of my life he hadn’t been around for.
“So we don’t have to work and we don’t have to fly back? And we get to spend all day on a private tour of Versailles? That’s what you’re telling me right now?”
He smiled. “That’s what I’m telling you right now. Merry Christmas.”
I beamed at him, picked up my spoon, and dug into what could only be described as the most luscious thing I’d ever eaten. “Ethan, this might be the best Christmas ever.”
* * *
Christmas Eve
Julia
“Oh my God! What a day!”
I was twirling in the sitting room of our hotel suite. I couldn’t stop myself, although when I finally did, I realized the room was still spinning. Not too badly, though, so I wasn’t drunk, just tipsy. It was a thought I had, that I had to be careful not to drink too much with Ethan.
Bad things happened to us when we let ourselves get out of control.
After the morning and early afternoon at Versailles, Ethan had booked us a reservation at Le Cinq for dinner. The chef had come out to greet us personally. Then he’d presented us with food and wine pairings of some of the most delicious things I’d ever put in my mouth, which was saying a lot after last night’s dessert.
I was high on culture, history, good food, and the best French wine imaginable.
Falling back into the sofa, I sighed and looked down at the cream-colored confection I’d purchased for tonight’s outing. Earlier this afternoon, Ethan had put on his best Richard Gere face and asked the owner of this fabulous boutique to open for us so that I might pick a dress for dinner tonight.
He made me try on a total of six dresses then decided on this one. Since he was paying it for it—another Christmas gift—I let him choose.
He was in black tie and I was in cream and I could pretend, for a moment, that our lives were as glamorous as today had been.
I laughed.
“What?” he asked, dropping onto the couch next to me. He’d pulled his tie free, so it hung around his neck, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Glancing at him now, if I squinted, I could still see the lanky guy with the fuzzy eyebrows I’d met in college. There, but with so much more panache.
Ethan didn’t care about expensive clothes, food, or wine. None of that motivated him. But he dressed and ate and drank like he did because he understood there was a mystique about the Ethan Moss people thought they knew. An image he’d cultivated over time so that, despite his relative youth, his ideas were taken seriously.
Few world leaders would listen to someone not yet thirty talk about changing the nature of air travel. But they listened to Ethan.
The genius boy billionaire.
“You’re a billionaire!” I snorted.
“As someone who runs the finances of my empire, I would hope you, of all people, would know that.”
“It’s just that sometimes I forget. I mean, we work so freaking hard. Our days are mostly spent in an office—granted a lovely office, but still. I can’t remember the last time I did something for myself just for fun. I have this huge bank account, but I mostly eat fast-food salads. Today felt…”
“Magical?” Ethan asked, nudging my shoulder.
Yeah, I thought. It had been pretty magical. “Is this what you dreamed about? When you started at Harvard, is this how you saw it all playing out?”
He stared ahead, looking thoughtful. “For us?”
“No, for you.”
“I didn’t think about what the future would look like back then. I was too focused on the present. On freedom.”
“Are you happy, Ethan? I mean, everything you’ve done, all that you’ve built…are you happy?”
Suddenly it seemed important to know that. Because if we’d done all this work and come all this way and he was still lost inside, it would crush me.
“Right now. I am. Are you? Happy?”
I was…conflicted. In so many ways. But in this moment, here with him, it seemed so simple. I stretched out my hand and he took it, our fingers instantly locking. “Yes. Right now, I’m happy.”
He looked at me and I could feel it. The things we didn’t say. The emotions we didn’t acknowledge because we never had. But it was all there. We were a team. An unlikely pair who’d met in college, and nothing that had happened in the years since had ever come close to separating us.
“Jules,” he whispered and started to lean forward. Like he was going to kiss me. Like we could go back to that night at the wedding when we were drunk and free from the roles we’d assigned ourselves.
I could let it happen again.
Tomorrow we would say that it was the atmosphere of Paris. The surrealism of the moment. Yes, Ethan had all the money in the world. Yes, he could spend his days jet-setting around the globe. But he didn’t. I didn’t. That wasn’t us. He was a man driven to change the world and I was the tool he’d picked up to help him do it.
So we could say this was another moment out of time. Just like Daniel’s wedding.
What had Ethan called it the last time?
A vacation from being us.
And oh, how good it had been. Good and terrible and wonderful.
Until the next morning, when we’d had to sho
ve ourselves back into our slated roles. Only when I tried that, it felt like my skin didn’t fit anymore.
That next Monday morning I’d gone to work feeling like I’d swallowed shattered glass. Like I was being sliced from the inside every time I breathed, knowing I couldn’t show it. My pain was my pain and not to be shared.
Least of all with Ethan.
I wouldn’t survive that again.
Standing abruptly, I banged into the coffee table with my shin. “Ahhh, fuck.”
“Jules,” he said in that way he did when he thought I was being stupid.
“I have to go bed.” I started to move but he was up and behind me in seconds, grabbing my arm.
I wouldn’t turn around.
“Jules.”
I didn’t know what my name meant this time. A question? A command?
“I’m dating CJ.”
I felt his hand squeeze my elbow.
“Let go, Ethan.”
“Please don’t make me.” It was a whisper in my ear. And strange because Ethan didn’t ever say words like please.
“And I’m asking you not to make me be someone who might do something as wrong as this.”
“You’re not his,” he said, anger in his voice. “Whatever that is, it’s temporary and you know it.”
Because it was hard to break a habit. Hard to get sober from the high of Ethan Moss. Hard to move on with a life that wasn’t in service to him. If I’d learned anything from my brother John’s attempts to get free from alcohol and his relapses, it was that.
But I had to try.
I pulled on my arm and this time, he let me go.
“What time do we need to be ready to leave for the airport?”
“The driver will be downstairs at nine a.m.”
I nodded and walked to my room with deliberate care so it wouldn’t look like I was running.
When I closed the door behind me, I locked it. Not because I was worried Ethan would try to get in, but because I was afraid I would be the one to open it.
8
A week after Paris
Ethan
The room was packed. I’d decided to rent the Space Needle for our annual company gala. We’d invited senior management up from the Nebraska plant and the entire Phoenix team from our main offices was there. I’d invited my parents, but my father declined, saying he wasn’t up for the five-hour flight.
Not sure what that was about. Five hours on a private jet wasn’t like flying commercial. It wasn’t even like flying first class. I wondered if there was more to his refusal, if he was still pissed I’d blown off Christmas this year, but it hadn’t sounded that way.
If anything, he’d sounded…tired? Maybe it was time to talk to him about scaling back his schedule.
Inwardly, I smiled at the thought of me telling my father what to do. Offering him life advice. I didn’t imagine that going well. Most likely I would need to talk to my mother to get a sense if he was pushing himself too hard at the hospital.
Scanning the room, I saw a sea of familiar faces but I had no desire to interact. Jules would handle that. One of her many roles was ambassador to the employees. Making sure everyone felt as if they were valued, respected, appreciated. Asking them about their spouses and their babies as if the hundred-plus employees were family members.
Me? I planned to sit here and sip my scotch and nod occasionally if I caught someone’s eye.
I could see Daniel pushing through the crowd, Kaylee in tow. She looked to be about two years pregnant. Which was an observation I planned to keep to myself. I knew he was over the moon at the prospect of becoming a father. A girl, they were having. Jasmine, after his grandmother.
“My man!” Daniel called out.
I smiled and lifted my glass. “Kaylee, hasn’t this monster found you a chair where you can rest your feet?”
“I keep thinking if I jiggle her enough, the baby might just want to fall out,” she said with a broad smile.
The thought was only slightly disturbing.
“Are you having fun?”
She winced. “There is only so much fun to be had when you’re thirty-five weeks pregnant, but the setting is lovely.”
It was a clear night. The moon was high. Mt. Rainier served as a beautiful backdrop to all the pretty people inside who were drinking and mingling, both in the restaurant and in the viewing areas above.
“You going to talk to anyone here?” Daniel asked me. “Because I have to tell you, as your corporate attorney, you look a little aloof standing all alone in the corner by the bar.”
“That’s legal advice?”
“That’s PR advice.”
“That’s what Jules is for. I’m sure she’s out there somewhere right now, making the rounds, letting everyone know how much they’re appreciated.” I took a sip of my scotch and watched as the expression on Daniel’s face changed.
He looked at Kaylee and she glanced at him and I knew they were hiding something from me. A silent conversation that only they understood. I knew this because it was often how Jules and I communicated.
“What?” I prompted.
Daniel seemed to make an internal decision. “Nothing. I’m sure Julia will be around shortly to talk to you. She’s got news, but it’s her news to share.”
I thought about some of the airline acquisitions we had in the works and wondered if one of them was further along than I thought. That would be great news to start the New Year.
“Ethan…when you talk to her,” Daniel said, leaning closer so he wouldn’t be overheard by the people around us. “Go easy, okay?”
Go easy? That didn’t make any sense. That implied the news wouldn’t be good. Did we lose one of the acquisitions to a competitor?
“Babe, I need to sit now,” Kaylee said, yanking on Daniel’s arm. Instantly, he moved to guide her through the crowd, most likely toward the lobby where I’d had couches set up just so people could get off their feet.
Ten minutes later, I spotted Jules in the throng of people. She was wearing the black cocktail dress she’d worn in Paris and I felt my gut tighten in reaction.
I didn’t like that she was wearing it. I didn’t like that everyone here could see it. This had been my dress—this one and the one I’d bought her.
Then I saw her pulling CJ along behind her and I nearly snarled. CJ with his traditional blond good looks. Always with an earnest expression on his face, as if he might say “Aw, shucks” at any given moment.
I hadn’t liked him when Jules and I interviewed him. Hadn’t liked the way he looked at Jules like she was some queen he needed to kneel before. Hadn’t liked how uncomplicated his personality had seemed.
But Jules had pushed for him because of his experience, his résumé, and how he could advance the aviation side of the company with some of his innovative ideas.
Now they were dating. Seriously enough that she’d used him as the excuse for stopping what could have been another night for us in Paris. Another break from our normal where we could immerse ourselves in the physical. I considered that to be time he’d stolen from me. Which meant, somehow, he was going to have to pay me back.
Jules found me in the crowd and smiled. Only the smile didn’t touch her eyes.
The news, I thought. It must be bad.
She finally reached me. Ahead of CJ, so she must have let go of his hand. I thought the smile on her face was too big.
“Guess what?” she said in a high, shrill voice.
“You know I don’t guess.”
She held out her left hand and I wondered for a second if she was expecting me to kiss it when I saw the ring. An ostentatious pear-shaped diamond that I knew was not to her taste. She wouldn’t want anything that flashy or ornate. Big enough that it would interfere with her typing.
“CJ proposed and I said yes!” she screeched at me.
I looked up from the ring and met her eyes. There was fear and stubbornness and something else I couldn’t identify, which was strange because I always knew what Jules
’s expressions meant. I’d been studying them for years.
She was waiting for my response. She wanted to see my reaction, which meant I couldn’t give her one, of course.
I smiled. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she said, then swallowed.
“Ethan,” CJ said, coming up behind her and offering me his hand. I shook it.
“Congratulations, CJ. You’re a very lucky man.”
“Don’t I know it,” he said, smiling. “Figure I couldn’t mess around when it came to Julia. My dad always told me, son, when you know you want a woman to be your wife, you just make that happen. No point in waiting.”
Aw, shucks.
“Well, I wish you both the best. If you’ll excuse me, I seem to have lost my date.” I set my drink on the bar and turned my back on them. I didn’t have a date, but Jules wouldn’t know that.
She was engaged. To CJ.
And somehow, I had to find a way to make that un-happen.
* * *
Three weeks after Paris
Ethan
I heard the elevator doors slide open, but I didn’t bother to look up. I’d been sitting here for the past hour working on the Jules Needs to Break Up with CJ plan and while I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, at least I now had a course of action.
“You have your own office, you know,” Jules said as she dumped the leather satchel that held her laptop on top of her desk.
“I like yours better,” I said, still not looking up.
“Why are you here so early?” she asked me. “We both know you’re not a morning person.”
“I didn’t sleep last night,” I muttered. “I got you coffee and a bagel with low-fat veggie cream cheese.”
It wasn’t low fat, but she wouldn’t eat it otherwise. Somewhere along our journey Jules had convinced herself that being my vice president meant she had to look a certain way. So on those rare occasions I got her to eat something sinfully delicious, I considered it a win.
I thought back to Paris. Watching her eat the chocolate ganache cake. I’d been hard while her eyes had widened with pleasure—and she’d been fucking thinking about CJ as a future husband. I refused to accept that.
