Separate Like Stars

by Diana Kane

  “We are not getting old,” she chastises me.

  “We’re nearing 40,” I remind her with a lift of my eyebrows.

  “Shit, we are aren’t we? I forget that when I look at you. You really haven’t aged since college,” she admits as she studies my face.

  “Believe me; I’ve aged,” I counter as I point to my first grey hair that I found a month ago.

  “Is that a grey hair?” she asks as she steps into my personal space to examine the area my finger is indicating. “I can’t tell,” she confesses as the scent that always sent my body reeling wallops me. “I mean, you’ve always had the best hair, with the dark undertones and the natural red and blonde highlights.” She goes quiet as she continues her examination and I work to fight the ingrained response her scent causes in me. “I don’t see it,” she assures me with a smile as she takes a few steps back, that dangerous aroma retreating with her. “What would you like to know about my time in Paris?” she inquires as she leans against the prep table and takes a drink.

  “Huh?” I manage, still distracted by the effect her scent had on me and puzzling how that can still be the case. “Oh, right,” I quickly amend once my brain begins functioning properly again. “There’s so much I don’t know, just start at the beginning, I guess.”

  “Well, after rehab Véronique made me move into her place. I knew she didn’t trust me. How could she? Honestly, I didn’t even trust myself. I knew it was going to be a work in progress to earn her trust again, what I didn’t know was how long it would take me to start trusting myself. So I busted my ass at work, made sure I made it to a meeting every day, and steered clear of bars and anywhere else I knew I might find trouble. In some ways, I became a hermit. If I wasn’t working or at a meeting, I was at home reading, gaming or watching a movie. Over time, as I grew to trust myself a little more, I started venturing out. I’d take my book to a coffee shop, go to the movies to see something, never anything too crazy, and never anywhere that served alcohol. Véronique’s husband is a big soccer fan, so I even started watching that with him.” She smiles when she catches the look of surprise on my face at her revelation that she willingly watched a sporting event. “I know. It’s not always the most exciting of things, but it broke up the monotony at times. Plus, there are some smoking hot female soccer players,” she adds with a chuckle. “Anyway, after I had been sober for two years, I started taking business and restaurant management courses. It was becoming clear that Véronique was considering grooming me to be her heir apparent, and I was still too ashamed of how I had let my life disintegrate to consider coming home. So I shifted my focus to earning that degree, staying sober, and working. It meant a lot to me that she was willing to consider naming me as her replacement.” Olivia pauses to finish her soda, her eyes falling shut as she tips the can up to the ceiling. “In hindsight, I’m not sure if I took all those classes because being the heir apparent was something I thought I wanted, or because I was grateful that Véronique thought of me that way. Either way, it became clear shortly after I finished. Véronique was sending me all over, having me spend time in her establishments as well as learning other cuisines from chefs that she knows. But I started feeling like I did when I had last seen you. I loved the work and everything I was learning, but I was lonely and in a lot of ways I felt isolated. I managed to meet and casually date a few women here and there, but when you know you’re only going to be in a country for so long, any possible relationship has an expiration date before it begins. I wanted something real, something more like what we had and not something that was doomed before it could start. I wanted roots and friends that I could see whenever I wanted to. Do you want something else?” she abruptly asks as she moves toward the refrigerator and pulls open the door again.

  “I think,” I begin but look down and am surprised when I discover my bottle of water is almost empty. When did I drink an entire bottle of water? I wonder before looking back up at Olivia who patiently waits for my answer. “Another water would be great,” I reply before polishing the few remaining drops off.

  “Where was I?” she asks as she hands the chilled bottle to me. “Right. So after touring Europe for a few years, I settled back in Paris with Véronique and got to work learning the ropes. I spent days with her accountant pouring over the books and learning what really went into managing them. I learned about managing inventory, staffing, and a million other things about the business that I always took for granted. But more importantly, I quickly realized that I was ready to come home. I had a niece and nephew I had yet to meet, I was working on repairing the damage I had done to my relationships with Kurt and my dad, and I was reaching out to the people I missed the most. I didn’t hear back from everyone,” she says as she gives me a pointed look and slight smile, “but I felt a sense of encouragement from those that I did. But I also felt a sense of obligation. I felt indebted to Véronique for selecting me all those years ago, for putting me in rehab, for looking out for me after rehab, for giving me a second chance, and for picking me to take her place in the spotlight. So I became Véronique’s shadow. Meetings, television and other media appearances, charity events…it didn’t matter. Wherever she went, I was expected to follow. It was grueling and miserable. I never realized the level of celebrity status she had achieved, or how much work she had to put into maintaining it. But the show went on, and I continued obediently following her, learning what I could and forging a larger network of connections than I could ever possibly hope to manage. Then in early 2013 we finally returned to Paris to take a break. We’d been traveling pretty much nonstop for years, so having my feet on the ground sorta made it feel like home, like I actually had those roots and friends that I thought I was missing. Then I met Natalia, and I settled in a little more. We dated for almost a year, but the demands of the job and Véronique proved to be more than she was willing to tolerate,” she shares while slightly shaking her head. “I continued towing the line, running the kitchen and traveling with Véronique when needed. She planned to hand everything over to me in five years. It took me less than a year to realize once again that I wanted to come home. Sure I had managed to sneak in a few visits here and there, but each trip only served to reinforce what I already knew. I was finally prepared to tell Véronique when I met Brielle. But even she wasn’t enough to distract me from my desire to come home. So I did my research and created a proposal for Véronique, giving life to the idea that would eventually become du Pays. Brielle—.” The ringing of Olivia’s phone cuts off her next tidbit, the generic old-school telephone tone possibly the least creative thing Olivia has ever associated herself with. “I’m sorry, it’s the contractor I’ve been playing phone tag with. I’ll probably be a few minutes. Feel free to look around some more,” she instructs me as she swipes her finger across the screen to answer the call. “Hey Sam, thanks for getting back to me,” she answers as she smiles at me.

  Olivia’s voice fades as the door swings shut behind me and I reenter the dining area. I make my way behind the bar and stumble upon the mockup for the room’s design. I study it for a few minutes and look into the empty space, easily picturing how it will look once completed. In my mind’s eye, I can envision the booths and tables, packed with patrons enjoying their time together, laughing as they share stories of the past, smiling as they reveal hopes for the future. I return upstairs and take another look around as I familiarize myself with the new decor and remember how it used to look each time I close my eyes. The images vie for dominance, like some before and after slideshow playing in my head, testing my grasp of reality. I gasp when I realize where I’ve stopped, the once secluded corner that served as the only safe public space Olivia and I could share. How many times did she wrap her arms around me and whisper that she loved me in this very spot? How many kisses did we share here? How often did I relax into the comfort of her embrace and revel in the soft press of her lips against my temple? Tears burn my eyes as I remember the girls we once were, the love I know that once existed between us, and the tr
agic sense that settles over me when I realize that the spot we once considered ours, much like our relationship, is now gone.

  Not wanting to stroll down this portion of memory lane any longer, I descend the stairs and make my way to the right of the door. A glance to my left reveals a newly constructed wall, creating a short hallway which houses the bathrooms. It’s the room straight ahead that draws my attention though. I step into the small space, noticing nothing on my right. It’s when I turn around that I feel the air knocked out of my lungs. Before me sits the very display case which once housed Olivia’s ring. Memories of all the times Olivia and I stopped to look at it, of Olivia trying it on and gushing about how much she wanted it, of finally being able to buy it for her, and gifting it to her on her birthday flood through my mind. Anger and bitterness course through my system, making me miss the echo of Olivia’s footfalls as she passed through the empty expanse of her future dining room.

  “Sorry about that. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with this space. I kept the display case thinking I could offer to sell some of the nonperishable items from the farmers market. I also thought about trying to get a few arcade games for kids to play while waiting for their meals. What do you think?”

  “Does Brielle know you have no intention of returning to Paris?” I ask, not bothering to mask the disgust in my tone.

  “Brielle?” Olivia questions, stepping between me and the counter, trying to force me to look at her.

  “Did you tell her you had no intention of coming back, or did you do the thing we both know you’re good at and feed her some line that this isn’t permanent and that you’ll make it work?” My voice echoes back at me as I hammer the words out, causing Olivia’s shoulders to slump.

  “We almost made it through one whole visit,” she mumbles under her breath. “Brielle always knew I planned to return home. I told her before we even started dating that we shouldn’t bother because I would be leaving for good one day. But she persisted, and I gave in. I think she hoped she could change my mind, but I never wanted her as much as I wanted this,” she waves her hand in an arcing motion around her, indicating the restaurant, the gesture drawing a derisive snort from me. “What was that for?”

  “That’s always the thing with you, isn’t it? You wanted Paris more than you wanted me, you wanted drugs more than you wanted me, and you wanted du Pays more than you wanted Brielle.”

  “Nothing you just said is true! Brielle knew from the start where my heart was. I never lied to her about my intentions. Maybe I should have put up more resistance when she kept pursuing me, but I honestly was into her. If I had stayed in Paris, I might be with her still. I don’t know,” Olivia finishes with a shrug. “As for the drugs…that is the one free pass you’ll get for throwing that in my face. The only thing I wanted when I started using was to forget everything. The drinking and the coke worked, albeit temporarily. I certainly never chose either one of them over you. I was pretty much dead inside, Jordan. I couldn’t have made you happy, nor do I think for a minute that you could have loved me at that point. I know you would have tried and we likely would have wound up hating each other instead of being where we are now.” Olivia blows out a deep breath and locks her eyes on mine, refusing to look away when she resumes speaking. “As for me wanting Paris more than I wanted you…I never wanted anything more than I wanted you. I was just too foolish to realize that until it was too late,” she admits, finally allowing her gaze to fall to the floor.

  “Look,” we both say after a few moments of strangled silence.

  “Go ahead,” Olivia says as she raises her eyes to meet mine.

  “I’m sorry. I had no right to question your relationship with Brielle or to go off on you like I did. It’s just,” I sigh and wave my hand in the direction of the case behind her. “That’s the case that held your ring. It brought back a lot of memories, which ruffled my feathers I guess.”

  “I get it,” she says as she offers me a smile. “Why do you think I insisted on this building?” I shrug my shoulders in response, unsure if her question was one she wanted me to answer. “We made a lot of memories here. Memories that I remember fondly. When Dana told me that the antique store had closed, I knew I wanted the space, even though it was going to require a lot more renovation work than someplace else would.” She smiles as her eyes take in everything around us. “I know we’ve changed most of it so that it isn’t recognizable, but I’ll always remember our secret spot upstairs, or how we would waste hours in here, making up stories about items that we uncovered. That’s why I insisted that they keep this case. Everyone thought I was insane, but I demanded it be kept, in its original location, left as is.”

  “So you kept it as some sort of memorial to our relationship?”

  “No, I kept it because I wanted one piece of the past to remain unchanged. I love that ring,” she replies as my phone plays the chime I recognize as a call from Addison. Love not loved? I wonder as I pull out my phone.

  “Sorry, I’m sure this will be quick,” I inform Olivia as I answer the call. “Hey babe,” I answer as I watch Olivia run her hand over the top of the display case, a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Is this a bad time?” she asks, not quite commanding all of my attention.

  “I’m just with Olivia. She’s showing me around du Pays,” I inform her as I tear my gaze away from Olivia’s distracted form.

  “So it is a bad time. I was just calling to confirm your flight details for tomorrow. You haven’t sent them to Steph yet.” I knew I had forgotten to do something, but could have sworn I had forwarded the details to her assistant.

  “It must have slipped my mind. I’ll do it as soon as we hang up. Do you want me to book us for something?”

  “Steph has taken care of it,” she replies as the sound of someone knocking on her trailer door filters across the line. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “See you tomorrow afternoon,” I manage to confirm before the call disconnects. “Sorry,” I direct at Olivia who has returned her attention to me, her eyes full of concern.

  “It’s all right. Taking a trip?”

  “Going to Vancouver tomorrow to visit Addison,” I inform her.

  “Damage control?” she lets slip before putting her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have. But it’s kinda obvious,” she adds before pressing her lips into a firm line.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just whenever there’s been a report of her cheating, you’ve always made an appearance not too long after. May I ask you something?”

  “Can I stop you?”

  “Is it all a media thing or PR stunt?”

  “We’re really together,” I inform her, catching a fleeting glimpse of something flashing across her face.

  “I see,” she replies with what I can tell is a forced smile.

  “Look, I should get going. I still need to pack, stop at the florist, and I’m on my bike, so the trip home will take a bit longer. Thanks for letting me see the place. It looks fantastic,” I add before clamping my mouth shut, knowing that I’m dangerously close to starting to ramble.

  “Of course. Do you want to carpool to your mom’s tonight?”

  “Sure. Pick you up at 5?” I ask before turning for my bike.

  “Sounds good,” she answers as she watches my retreat. “Jordan,” she calls out as my hand lands on the door. “Thank you for trying to be my friend. I know it isn’t easy for you and I want you to know it really means a lot to me.” I stop long enough to offer her a smile before pushing my bike out the door, no clearer which is more difficult: being her friend or dealing with the emotions these long-repressed memories are eliciting.

  Chapter 15

  “Jordan,” Addison’s soft voice pulls me from the depths of a dream. I slowly let my eyes flutter open and smile up at her as she brushes a few rogue strands of hair away from my eyes. “You were out,” she observes before leaning down to kiss me.

  “Hello,” I answer as her curtai
n of blonde hair recedes. “Ouch,” I hiss mid-stretch as I feel my neck knot up.

  “Kink in your neck?” she asks, her eyes full of concern.

  “Yeah,” I wince as I gently rub the knot.

  “Roll over,” she orders before stealing another kiss and shifting slightly to allow me to obey her command. I release a contented murmur as her deceptively strong hands begin working along my shoulders, inching their way closer to the base of my neck, and that still throbbing muscle. “You’re so tense,” she needlessly informs me as she tries to ease the overly tight muscles.

  “It’s been an exhausting couple of days,” I share as she continues working at the knots.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers as her hands continue working their magic. I take a deep breath and attempt to slowly release it, but it ends up coming out in a rush that resembles an exaggerated sigh as Addison’s fingers find the source of my misery.

  “You don’t need to be sorry, I just wish you’d be more discrete,” I remind her. “God that feels good,” I moan as she continues working my tight muscles. “I’m not upset that it happened. I know that it’s how we work,” I add as Addison stops working long enough to straddle me at my hips, her weight resting on my ass. “I just wish you would understand that every time you slip up, I have to deal with the sympathetic looks and the invasive questions. My mom isn’t your biggest fan at this point, and Marie thought Olivia and I were back together. So I’ve been dealing with that on top of having to make an unplanned trip here to do damage control.”