Foreign Love (An International Sports Romance) (Love in Shades) (10 page)

Chapter 29

Julia

Willow is sitting at the foot of my hospital bed with a small box full of nail polish in her lap. “Australian gold?” she asks jiggling one bottle in her left hand. “Or ginger lust?” She jiggles another bottle in her right hand.

To me they both look the same. And they both remind me of Lucien’s copper-gold eyes.

Actually, everything reminds me of Lucien.

From the Eiffel Tower scrubs my nurse wore yesterday morning to the onion soup that was served for lunch today.

Willow is looking at me expectantly, waiting for a response. I shrug a shoulder as I stare blankly at the television mounted high on the hospital room wall. “Whichever.”

She sighs, sounding dejected as she pulls my left foot into her lap and uncorks a polish bottle. Australian gold, I think.

I know it’s been hard for her seeing me like this. The poor, depressed, hopeless girl lying in this bed is not the Julia Lockhart that she knows. I’m a stranger to her. She knows the strong, sassy side of me. Quick-witted and impulsive and always the centre of attention. This Julia – the one that wants to curl up into a ball and hide – is unfamiliar to her and my family and the rest of my friends.

This is the Julia that only Lucien Beauvier really knows.

Lying, deceitful,
married
Lucien Beauvier.

The sportscaster on the television rattles off some random statistics about the Olympics. It starts in less than three weeks in Rio de Janeiro. My mind inevitably goes to Lucien and I feel a pinch in my heart when I think about how not being able to participate must be tearing him apart. Yes – he hurt me, but I love him and I can’t stand imagining him in pain.

“The doctor said the surgery was a success, right?” Willow’s voice breaks through the chatter in my mind.

I shrug again. Yes, Dr. Mitchell mentioned that the implantation of the metal rod went according to plan with no hitches. But now, I have a goddamned piece of steel in my knee. I can never dance again. So, in my mind, I can’t bring myself to describe the surgery as a success.

The room falls silent again for a long time. Then, Willow speaks again in that soft, cautious way of hers. “Jules – Why didn’t you tell us – Mackenzie and me – about your injury?...Even when you visited us back in June, we had no idea that anything was wrong with you…We would have been there for you…we would have done anything to make things easier for you.”

And that’s exactly what I was trying to avoid. I didn’t want to see the look of pity on my friends’ faces and I definitely didn’t want them putting their lives on hold to take care of me. Mackenzie’s dancing in front of thousands of people in a new city every night and Willow scored the internship of her dreams at a hot, new technology start-up. I didn’t want their pity for me and my broken dreams to get in the way of
their
dreams,
their
bright futures.

I lift my shoulder high to my ear again before letting it drop in defeat.

Willow frowns at me. “If you shrug at me one more time…” she threatens in her best attempt at a stern voice. That gets me to laugh because shy, timid Willow couldn’t even intimidate a fly if she tried.

I blow out a heavy puff of air. “Look – I’m not used to not being the strong one. I didn’t know how to be vulnerable and weak, so I pretended that everything was okay.”

Willow’s eyes fill with tears. “You don’t have to be a superhero all the time, Jules. You get to be vulnerable, too. When you need to be. And in those moments when you can’t be strong, we get to be strong for you. That’s what best friends are for.”

She’s right. I’d want to be there for her or Mackenzie if they were going through a rough patch. I suddenly feel selfish and immature for having tried to handle this all on my own.

“Come here, Willie,” I say choking on my own voice as I pull her into a hug, burying my tears in the curve of her neck.

Chapter 30

Lucien

I’m still dressed in my dirty football uniform, my cleats kicked off carelessly in the middle of the room, my bag tossed on the floor. I’m sprawled off on the couch and sleep is finally creeping over me.

It has been an exhausting past few days.

Team practice has intensified since the starting line-up for the Olympic Games was announced. Plus now, there are all sorts of press events and other social gatherings to attend. Grégoire has been running around like a madman, trying to capitalize on all the endorsement opportunities and interview requests that have popped up. The media is calling me “L’ange du football” and they have dubbed my recovery a miracle. Even poor Cynthia has been hounded by the press for an interview but she has kept quiet, of course, because of the ethical implications of discussing my recovery.

And in all the melee that has been going on, I keep thinking about Julia. Where the hell did she go? And why? And will she come back?

I’ve gone to her apartment several times, but no one is ever home. Those ballerinas keep a rehearsal schedule almost as hectic as us footballers.

I’m at the point now where I just feel like giving up because I don’t think that I will get her back. I’m afraid that she has left Paris and if she is already in New York, I have no way of finding her.

My Julia…

Just as I’m letting go, drifting off to sleep, I hear a key rattling in the lock.

I bolt up right, headed for the door.

But when the door swings open, it’s not Julia standing there.

“Anaïs…” I feel bile rolling in my stomach.

She pushes past me. “Is she here? Did she come back?” Anger radiates off of her skin.

And realization dawns on me. “
C’était toi!
It was you!”

“Where is that American bitch who was here the last time? Did she come back?” She steps into my space, her pointy, red fingernail jabbing into my chest.

“What did you do to her, Anaïs?” I demand pushing her hand off of me.

“How could you bring your whores into our house, Lucien? This is
our
house! I am your wife! You said you loved me!”

“Anaïs, stop your foolishness. Please. I love Julia and you need to leave.”

“
Non! Non, chérie. Je t’aime. Je t’adore
,” she purrs as she tries to bring her hand to my cheek.

“
C’est fini entre nous
. It is over between us, Anaïs. When you called on the phone, I told you not to come back. I never want to see you again.”

She’s crying and protesting as I throw her over my shoulder and deposit her outside of the door. She’s banging on the walls, causing a scene, but I don’t care.

Now, I’m pacing the floor, scrubbing my hands over my head. Everything is all fucked up thanks to Anaïs.

But I have to fix this. I have to get my girl.

Chapter 31

Lucien

I haul my small suitcase off of the elevator and down the narrow, dimly-lit hallway. I pound my fist into the door all the way at the end.

“Lucien!” Geneviève gasps, no doubt shocked to see me. Then, her girl-power shield slips firmly into place. “Julia is gone,” she says narrowing her eyes and folding her arms defensively across her chest.

“I have a one-way ticket to New York,” I say waving the print-out of my itinerary in front of her. “And you will help me find her.”

Geneviève shifts all her weight to one hip and glares at me. “Why would I do that?”

I sigh and glance quickly at my wristwatch. I don’t have time to chitchat with Julia’s disgruntled ex-roommate but she’s my only link to Julia right now. “The Olympics start in a few days and I need Julia with me. She
has to
go with me. I don’t have much time.”

“And what about your
wife
?” Geneviève spits the words at me. There’s so much bitterness on her face.

“Look, it’s complicated, okay? But I can explain it all…to Julia. Please help me. Please.” She doesn’t budge so I tilt my face so she can see directly into my eyes. “Do I look like the kind of man who would really hide a
wife
from the woman that I love?”

She gives me a skeptical look but her stance softens. “
Attends
,” she says she disappears back into the apartment. She returns moments later with a phone number scribbled onto a sheet of paper.

“Willow…” One of Julia’s best friends. She talked about Willow and Mackenzie all the time.

“There’s no way Julia will talk to you. She’s too angry,” Geneviève informs me. “But Willow – I’ve spoken to her a few times on the telephone. She seems nice. Maybe she will help you.”

I lean in and brace Geneviève by the shoulders and kiss her quickly on both cheeks. “
Merci
, Geneviève. You’re an angel.” Her face turns horribly red and she fights back a smile.

She hugs herself against the doorframe and watches me run back toward the elevator, suitcase in tow. “
Bonne chance, Lucien
,” she shouts after me as the elevator doors close.

Chapter 32

Julia

“Willow?”

“Huh?”

“Can you come sit down please? You’re acting shady as fuck and it’s starting to trip me out.”

I glance around at the dozen or so people sitting in the brightly-lit waiting room. None of us looks particularly excited to be here. But for me, at least, the physiotherapy is mandatory after my surgery. I have months of recovery ahead of me. That makes me edgy enough without Willow acting like a nervous wreck and irking me out.

She gives me a tense laugh as she moves away from the street-facing window and sinks into the tacky, orange plastic chair next to me. But her eyes are still riveted to the door and she won’t stop biting her fingernails.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Willie? You’re sort of acting like a freak,” I say as I swat her hand away from her mouth.

“Uh.” Her eyes dart to me and then to the door as it slowly swings open. “Don’t hate me, okay?” She slides out of her chair and moves quickly towards the man stepping into the physiotherapy clinic.

He wears a black t-shirt and black jeans hug his sculpted ass. A black trucker cap is pulled low over his eyes. But it does nothing to cover his sexy, scruffy beard…It reminds me of Lucien’s beard.

Wait…What?

Is that…

“Lucien?”

The pure shock of seeing him here makes me bounce to my feet.

“Julia…” he breathes my name as he approaches me quickly, wrapping me snug in his arms. “Ah, Julia…
Poupée
…” Willow stands off at a distance, an expectant look on her traitorous face.

My heart trips and stumbles in my chest as he kisses me affectionately on both cheeks then buries his head in my hair, his hands slicking up and down my sides. I look around, slightly embarrassed. We’re attracting the stares of every other person in the waiting room.

He pulls away to look in my eyes and notices my discomfort. “
Viens
,” he says simply as he takes my hand and leads me to an empty, sterile-looking physiotherapy room.

I swallow thickly as he closes the door behind him.

“You have a
wife
,” I shoot accusatorily before he can get a word out.

He sticks his hands out defensively in front of him. “I know this looks bad, Julia. But I can explain.”

I back away from him, perching on the edge of the adjustable treatment bed in the center of the room. “There’s nothing to explain, Lucien. Anaïs showed me a picture from your wedding. She had a key to your apartment. What else is there to say?”

“Just let me speak,” he insists, his eyes pleading.

I have half a mind to tell him to go to hell. He doesn’t deserve a chance to explain. But I stay quiet, watching him lean against the counter beside the sink and gather his thoughts. I see misery etched on his face. He can’t explain this away.

He has a
wife
for god’s sake.

I think back to all the meals we shared in
her
kitchen, all the laughs we shared on
her
couch, all the nights that we made love in
her
bed.

What Lucien did to me – to her – is simply unforgivable.

“Anaïs and I have not been in a real relationship for a long time, Julia. For years. I used to love her very much. But maybe she never loved me. I do not think she ever loved me.”

I huff. “But you married her, Lucien. You gave her a ring and you made vows to her.” It’s incredible to me that he would try to excuse his behavior by blaming it on Anaïs. “Take responsibility for what you did.”

He’s shaking his head, reaching his hands out to me as he closes the space between us. “It’s not so simple,” he insists.

I slink out of his reach. “It sounds pretty fucking simple to me, Lucien.”

He peels his cap off of his head and scrubs his hand over his short hair as he expels a heavy breath. “I meet Anaïs about four years ago at a party for one of the brands that endorses me. I was smitten with her immediately and courted her stubbornly. Even when she resisted my pursuit, I only tried harder to convince her to be with me.”

My stomach tightens as I hear him describe how he fell in insta-love with this woman because it sounds eerily similar to how he fell for me.

“She was the most sought-after model in Europe at the time and did not want to be tied down to any one man. But I was determined to have her, so after a few weeks, I proposed marriage to her. She accepted it. She took my ring. But months went by and she made no effort to move the wedding plans forward. Like a fool, I put more and more pressure on her. She eventually suggested a commitment ceremony; we could have an extravagant party for all of our friends and family, and make vows to each other, but she didn’t want to be tied down legally.”

I feel my heart splinter just a little when I see pain twist his face as the words come out of his mouth.

He inches closer to me. “Our so-called marriage was never legal, Julia, and she would remind me of that every time she ran off with another of her many lovers. She was never faithful to me and I spent a long time trying to convince her to love me. It never worked.”

The fact that Lucien was never legally married to Anaïs
should
be a relief to me. But it isn’t. I still feel betrayed – he never once mentioned her – and blindsided – she caught me vulnerable, with my guard down. All because Lucien kept her a secret from me.

I finally find the strength to open my mouth. “When – when did you end things with her?”

Lucien looks away and my stomach drops. “We never officially ended it. We were intimate many times over the years. But I eventually began to take other lovers. She knows this.”

“Argh!” I groan slapping my palm to my forehead. “How could you?”

This time he grabs my shoulders. I try to back away but he won’t let me. “When I met you, I had not seen Anaïs in months. She has a tendency to disappear whenever a shiny new distraction pops up and reappear when things aren’t going her way.”

Tears are pouring down my face now. “But she started calling you. When we were together in Paris, she would call, Right?”

He nods hesitantly. “She said that she had no more money. Her modeling agency was no longer booking jobs for her. But Julia, I told her that she was not welcome in my home anymore. I told her not to come back.”

I fill in the gaps. “But you didn’t tell her about
me.
Did you?”

“I didn’t want her to harass you,” he says in a low, weak voice, his eyes falling to the floor. “I was trying to protect you.”

I laugh bitterly. “Well,
that
went according to plan,” I say sarcastically.

“Since the day I met you, Anaïs hasn’t mattered any more. No one else matters. You must believe me.”

I don’t say anything. I just fold my arms over my chest and shake my head, still not sure how to process his words and my feelings and the world of hurt going on in my heart.

His face dips close to mine and I can feel his every breath warming my face. “I’ve told you everything, Julia…Now, tell me how to fix this. Tell me how to fix
us.
I’ll do anything.”

I don’t move as his eyes blink closed. I sit completely still when his lips search for mine. I can’t turn away as his mouth brushes against mine and his tongue slips into my mouth. I let him taste me one last time. I need it as much as he does.

When his hand crawls under my skirt, he finds me wet.

I’m always ready for him
.

But this time, I have no condom and neither does he. I let him lay me back on the table before he slides my panties down my legs, dropping them in a heap on the floor. I watch as he unbuttons his pants and pushes them, together with his boxers, down his legs.

He slides into me, raw. No barriers between us physically although there’s a fortress around my heart this time.

He finds his rhythm easily. He’s known my body completely since day one. He whispers soft, pleading words against my skin but I shake them all away.

But one declaration stays etched into my brain. “I’ve never loved any woman the way that I love you.”