Authors: Samantha Garman
I nodded. “This is Kai.”
Jules rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know, he already introduced himself.”
“My husband.”
The ticking of the grandfather clock let me know time passed, even as Jules continued to watch me in mute horror.
Kai made an instinctive and hasty retreat.
“
Husband?
” Jules squeaked. “You got
married
? To a fucking stranger?”
“He’s not a stranger,” I said, my voice rising.
“What did you do—marry the first guy you got into bed with?”
My hand reared back, and I slapped Jules across the cheek hard. I didn’t know who was more surprised. I looked at my palm, wondering if it had found a mind of its own. My gaze snapped to Jules, and my voice shook when I said, “You don’t know shit. Don’t pretend otherwise.” I turned to stalk out of the room.
“Sage Eleanor Harper. Stop. Right. There.”
“My last name is Ferris, and what have I told you about calling me by my full name?” I yelled, spinning around. I didn’t care if anyone heard us.
“You slapped me!” Jules bellowed, a bright red handprint across her face. “You fucking slapped me!”
“Why are you here?”
“What reason do you want? You wouldn’t answer my emails or calls, so I came, knowing you’d have to talk to me if I got in your face. And then you
slapped
me. Who the fuck are you right now?”
I didn’t want to explain myself, so I said nothing.
“Have you told Connor?”
“Why would I tell him anything?”
“You don’t think you owe him any sort of explanation?”
“No, I don’t.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Stop hurling questions at me!”
“Answer me!”
I felt weary and defeated. “Few days.”
Jules’ voice softened, “Can we do this sitting down?”
“You think I’d invite you into my home? Now?”
“I flew across an ocean to see you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Just…let’s sit down. Please?”
Once we were seated in the cottage, two glasses of bourbon poured but untouched, Jules said, “I can’t believe you got married. I can’t believe you got married without
me
.”
I heard the distress in her voice; it cleared the last of the anger from my mind. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. I didn’t do it to hurt you.” I was adamant. “And I’m sorry about the slap.”
“I deserved it—I was mean.”
“Astute of you.” I smiled and took a sip of my drink.
“Was marrying Kai another one of your so-called symptoms? Are you still reeling?”
“
This—
this is why I didn’t invite you. You think I’m broken and damaged, and moving to France was a mistake.” Jules opened her mouth to speak, but I silenced her with a hand. “Don’t bother. I’m well aware of how this looks. I didn’t want to hear it—not from you. I still don’t.”
Upstairs, the bathroom door opened, and Kai’s footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. I looked up as if I could see him through the ceiling. A smile with a volition of its own drifted across my face, like a puffy white cloud making its way in the blue sky.
“Holy shit.”
My attention snapped back to my friend, and the smile faded from my lips. “What?”
“You’re really in love with him—in a way you never were with Connor.”
I paused. “Yes.”
Jules stood, walked to the mantle, and stared at the photograph. “Is this Penny?”
“And Celia, from days gone by.”
“She’d be happy—that you married Kai after such a short time.”
“You think?”
“She was always worried you’d find yourself trapped in a loveless marriage. Worried you loved the idea of security more than you’d love the man you chose. She would’ve approved of you marrying for love.”
“Kai and I, we’re real.”
She caressed the drying dandelion crown.
“I wore that at my wedding,” I said.
“You
are
different. New York Sage would never have worn such a thing.”
“New York Sage wouldn’t have done a lot of things.”
Jules took up residence in the chair again and said nothing. When Kai came down the stairs, he seemed hesitant. I scooted over on the couch, making room for him and patted the seat cushion. He sat next to me, lending his silent support. I curled into his side and then looked at Jules, who watched us with keen interest.
“I don’t forgive you, you know,” Jules said, pretending Kai wasn’t there. “For ignoring me these past few months, and for not inviting me to your wedding.”
“But you understand?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I apologize, but I stand by my decisions.”
Jules nodded. “Okay then.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am,” I said, “but I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“I thought if I saw you, I’d feel my mother’s death all over again.”
Jules picked up her glass of bourbon on the rocks and took a sip. “This is terrible.”
“Careful,” I warned. “You’ve got a Southerner sitting not five feet from you.” Jules held the cold glass to her cheek, but I was the one who winced. “I’m a shit.”
“Yep, my cheek is throbbing.”
“You deserved it.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“You guys act like you’re sisters,” Kai noted.
Jules and I laughed. “You have no idea,” we said at the same time, and then laughed again.
The three of us talked long into the night. After a few hours, Kai stood up and kissed me on the forehead, leaving Jules and me alone.
“More tea?” I asked, grabbing our cups. We had switched from bourbon to avoid getting too drunk.
“Sure,” Jules said, looking thoughtful. “Your life is here now, isn’t it?”
I nodded as I filled our mugs with hot water.
“What about Kai?”
“What about him?”
“Will he ever visit his family?”
“I don’t know. I won’t force him.”
When we were too tired to carry on, I made up the couch and Jules settled down for the night. I crept upstairs and slid in bed next to Kai, who snored lightly. In his sleep, he wrapped his arm around me and patted my rump. I smiled, scooted closer and fell asleep.
Chapter 18
Sage
The following morning, we took Jules to the main house and introduced her to the Germains. Celia insisted on making a breakfast that lasted until lunch. Armand left to tend to the vines, but Luc lingered, and I didn’t miss the interested glances in Jules’ direction. It reinforced what I already knew; Luc had never had any real feelings for me. If she found him charming and interesting, then I’d give them my blessing. Every woman needed to have at least one torrid love affair while in France.
“Where are we going first?” Jules demanded after we finished eating.
“How about a tour of the vineyard?” Luc asked.
Jules smiled and took his arm. “Lead the way, and thanks for speaking English for my benefit.”
I watched Luc guide Jules outside and then glanced at my husband. “That looks promising.”
“I’m glad he’s over you.”
I stifled my laughter. “There was nothing to get over. Not really.”
“Didn’t he go to Italy for two weeks because you shot him down?”
“Jealousy becomes you,” I teased. “Luc didn’t know any better.”
Kai looked thoughtful. “I bet Connor is still tortured.”
I sighed. “Do you think Jules is right? Should I contact him?”
“Do you respect what you had together, even though it didn’t work out?”
“I suppose so.”
“There’s no good way to tell him, but yeah, I think he deserves to know. If a woman I loved broke off our engagement, moved across an ocean, and remarried before the year mark, I’d be a wreck.”
“
Any
woman, or a specific woman?”
He looked at me. “You. He’s not the same after you; he can’t be.”
I smiled. “Are you the same?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“Did I make you a better version of yourself?”
“Maybe,” he joked. “Maybe even the best version of myself. How do you like that?”
Sighing, I tugged on his arm. “Come on, let’s catch up with them.”
“Think they’ll do something crazy?” Kai gestured with his chin.
“Who knows?”
“How did you guys forgive each other so easily after not speaking for so long?”
“How did you and your friends handle stuff?”
“We punched each other.”
“Well, I did slap her, but I apologized. I guess, sometimes, friendship is more than just years of history.”
After the tour of the vineyard, we hopped into Luc’s compact car and drove to downtown
Tours
. We walked around the Old Square, eating gelato, and Kai pointed out the Irish pub where he played.
“Will I get to see you in action?” Jules asked.
Kai smiled. “Absolutely.”
Before the sun set we ducked into a café, squeezed ourselves around a small table and ordered two bottles of wine.
“How is it that the table wine in France is better than most wines in the U.S.?” Jules wanted to know.
“Because Americans don’t know the first thing about wine. Among other things,” Luc said with a grin.
“Your mother is American,” Jules pointed out.
“But she married a Frenchman and became an expatriate.”
“Touché.”
Kai whispered to me, “I bet you five bucks he’ll get her into bed by the end of the week.”
I turned my head, my lips grazing his ear. “You kidding? She’ll get
him
into bed by the end of the night.”
Kai pretended to be scandalized. “You New Yorkers move really fast.”
I put a hand on his leg and grinned. “
We
move fast? When did
you
propose?”
“Point taken.”
•••
Three days later, we were in McCool’s watching Kai and his band play. A smattering of empty glasses sat in front of us, attesting to the length of time we’d been there. I had a nice buzz going, and I was getting itchy feet, wanting to dance.
“Your husband is kind of hot,” Jules commented.
“Tell me about it,” I said.
“You know, I’m sitting right here,” Luc said, his arm around Jules. She looked up, smiled, and moved closer to him.
I grinned into my pint of cider. I’d been right about their timeline for getting together. Jules was only in town for another week, and there hadn’t been time to wait—Luc wasn’t complaining. I was happy for them, and I wondered if it would turn into something more permanent.
When the band stopped for a break, Kai sat down next to me and took a drink from my glass.
“You guys are good,” Jules commented.
“Thanks.”
“Do you plan on doing anything with it?” she pressed.
“Doing anything? I don’t follow.”
“Is this for fun, or are you hoping it goes somewhere?”
“God, you New Yorkers are so driven, aren’t you?” Kai laughed. “Whatever happens, happens.”
“How Southern of you.” Jules stood up. “I need another drink.”
“I’ll come with you.” Luc trailed after her.
“Ah, drive. I wonder what that feels like,” Kai joked.
“I’m not sure it’s all that it’s cracked up to be,” I answered.
“What do you mean?”
“Driven people always want more. They never know contentment.”
“You sure about that?”
I smiled. “Nope.”
I thought of my mother. She hadn’t been happy unless she was writing, and even then her happiness was tainted with frustration and insecurity, wondering if she was going in the right direction. Maybe there was no
right
direction, only forward.
Jules and Luc returned, and I kicked Kai out of the booth. “I want to dance,” I said. “So make it a quick jig.”
Grinning, he rose. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat, sauntered to the stage, and picked up his instrument. I stood and chugged the last of my pint.
“What are you doing?” Jules asked, when I grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the floor, forcing her to relinquish her newly acquired drink.
“We’re dancing,” I informed her.
“Who the hell
are
you?” she shouted over the din of music, but she was smiling. “You hate dancing!”
“Not anymore.”
Jules must have learned her lesson—she no longer asked questions about my newfound sense of crazy, she just went along with it. The crazy wasn’t going anywhere.
•••
I dropped the letter into the mailbox before I could think better of it. I sighed, wondering how it would change Connor’s life. I hoped it liberated him.
“He’ll appreciate the gesture,” Jules said, linking her arm through mine. We walked to a café for a quick bite alone before Luc drove Jules to Charles de Gaulle
for her evening flight.
“You think? After he reads it, there’s a very good chance he’ll be performing Voodoo on a doll that looks like me.” We settled into chairs, and I ordered for us in rapid French. “I’m sure he gave up thinking he’d hear from me ever again.”
“Ah, no, he hasn’t.” Jules stared at a spot on the table, running her thumbnail in a groove of a wood seam.
“You talk to him, don’t you?”
Jules continued to evade my gaze. “Every now and then. He’s called to ask if I’ve spoken to you.”
“You told him I’d come back, didn’t you? That’s why you’ve been on my ass to contact him.”
“I’m sorry,” Jules said, finally looking at me. The waiter dropped off our coffees. Jules reached for her cup, took a hasty sip, and then made a noise.
“Scald your tongue?”
“Little bit.” Jules sighed. “What did you say in the letter?”
I rubbed a tired hand across my face. It had been a late night, but after everyone else had gone to sleep, I picked up a pen and wrote to my ex-fiancé, thinking uncomfortable words might be easier to write in the dark. Turns out it wasn’t the dark that helped, but the liquor.
“I’m not sure it was entirely coherent,” I admitted. “There was an apology woven in there—about breaking the engagement, but I also wrote that I should never have accepted his proposal in the first place.”
“Oh, Sage…”
“Yeah, I was a little too honest, maybe. I told him he was a wonderful person, and he would make someone else very happy—though hopefully it wasn’t as generic as all that.”