J'adore New York (26 page)

“You guys were right to be suspicious about Jeffrey. What an asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was like being dragged through gravel. It really hurt.” I pause and try to collect myself but the pain is still raw. I quickly
change the subject. “Anyway, it’s over and I really don’t want to dwell on the past. I’m about to make a fresh start.”

Conscious that the alcohol is going to my head and I’m about to say things I shouldn’t, I change tactics. The champagne makes me brave enough to pry into his personal life.

“So are you seeing anyone?”

“No.”

I’m surprised by his response; he’s got the looks, the brains, and now the power, so I assumed women would be throwing themselves at his feet.

“Really? A great catch like you? That’s unbelievable! I guess you’ve been too busy working on that big privatization…”

He stares at me from across the table and puts an arm around the back of his chair. He pauses for a long moment before taking a large gulp of champagne.

“Catherine, I really don’t give a shit about that client or any other file for that matter.”

I stare at him, speechless.

“I have way more important things on my mind.” His dark eyes seem to look right through me.

“Oh.”

“And that whole googling Jeffrey business.”

“Yeah?”

“I did it because I was jealous. I didn’t want your relationship to work out.”

I lock eyes with him, my heart beating fast. I’ve always been attracted to Antoine, but I never expected it to be mutual. And besides, he was always more of a thorn in my side than a love
prospect. But something’s different about him now—he’s so much less tense.

“Really?” I skip back to our exchanges, zeroing in on some of our emails and conversations.

“And is that why you ignored me in the photocopy room after I had sent you that flirty email?”

“I thought you were just playing with me.”

“And is that why you took the Dior file away?”

“Mmm-hmm. I guess so.” He stares down at his plate. “I was upset that you were spending a weekend in the Hamptons with Jeffrey.”

“Really?”

“It was incredibly inappropriate, and I apologize. But to tell you the truth, I was afraid to tell you how I felt because I was leaving the country and I didn’t want to get hurt.”

His vulnerability makes my heart stop and my eyes open—he’s an incredible man.

“What’s so different now? You’re still on another continent.”

“I don’t want to lose my chance to be with someone so amazing.”

He stands up from his chair and leans into me. I feel weak in the knees.

“Can I kiss you?”

Without thinking about it, I nod. He grabs my arm and pulls me in closer. Being a bit tipsy helps keep my inhibitions in check and I let myself lean forward—my right hand reaching for his black curls—and passionately kiss him back; having his lips touch mine seems so perfect.

The waiter pretends to ignore us until Antoine signals for him to bring another bottle of champagne.

“We have something else to celebrate,” Antoine says to the waiter.

“I don’t think I can drink another glass,” I say.

“Okay, we’re taking it to go.”

He reaches for my hand and tenderly kisses the tips of my fingers. I’m overcome with elation.

“You have no idea how often I’ve dreamt of this moment.”

We wake up the next morning to the sound of the alarm clock.

“How about breakfast in bed?” Antoine asks.

“Shouldn’t we at least make an appearance at the firm’s team-building exercises?”

“The firm? What firm?”

“The one that just made you a partner!”

“Ah, yes, that one!”

He wraps his arms around my shoulders and the warmth of his touch makes me feel giddy.

“What are we going to do about this, Mademoiselle Lambert?” he whispers in my ear while caressing my hair.

I remain silent for a long moment. I don’t tell him that I’ve been awake half the night asking myself that same question; that I can’t take any more heartbreak than I already have, that I want to be with him, but I’m unsure whether I could
bring myself to move back to France for the sole reason of being with a man and that, on top of all this, I’m desperately thinking of leaving the firm and even spoke to Dior’s general counsel about applying for a job.

“I think I might have a plan,” I whisper back.

“Really? Are you going to share the details?”

“If I did, I might have to kill you.”

“You already have with that smile of yours.” He tickles me. “I only have six months to live unless I see you again very soon.” He turns my body so that I face him and becomes serious.

“I really mean it, Catherine. I want to be with you and a long-distance relationship might be difficult. Move back to Paris. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

I fall back on my pillow as he kisses me tenderly all over.

A moment of deep happiness comes over me. Whatever this is, it’s not hooking up.

“S
o how was California, dah-ling? Meet any cute boys?” I stare at the floor and try not to blush.

“Okay, what’s his name?”

“Rikash, shut the door.”

“Oooh, this sounds juicy.”

“You can’t tell anyone about this, okay? No hints, implications, nothing.”

“Okay, okay. Are you having an affair with Harry?”

“Ew, of course not. We did get quite cozy though. I threw up all over him on the flight to California.”

“I heard. The entire firm heard. Go on.”

“I was about to tell you that something, um, happened with Antoine.”

“Oh, dah-ling.” He waves his hands in the air. “You’ve finally come around.”

“What do you mean?”

“We all knew that he liked you. I caught him staring at your picture on the firm’s website more than a few times.”

“Funny, I always thought he disliked me.”

“It’s quite the opposite, pumpkin.”

“He told me about you two googling Jeffrey.”

He crinkles up his nose. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to spill any information, I was doing it out of concern.”

“I know. You’re a good friend.”

“But he’s in Paris. Long-distance relationships are very complicated.”

“I think we can manage.”

“Couldn’t you simply transfer back to your old job in the Paris office?”

I lower my voice. “Something pretty amazing happened in California that got me thinking.”

“Oh really?” he whispers back and raises his eyebrows dramatically. “What?”

“Dior was holding executive meetings at our hotel and I spoke to their general counsel about applying for a job.”

“Dior?
Oh my god!
” He does a pirouette over a stack of files.

“Shuuush, not so loud! Isn’t that incredible? It would be the best job ever!”

“So when’s the big interview?” He places my face in his hands.

“Um, that’s the problem.”

“Oh?”

“She left the hotel before I could hand her my resumé.”

“Oh, sweetie, that sucks. But Antoine does legal work for Dior. Why doesn’t he put in a good word for you?”

“We talked about this before we left California and we decided that given his recent promotion as a partner, it would be best if I pursued the Dior job on my own. Otherwise, it might put him in tough spot with the managing partners.”

“But I don’t understand…So many lawyers leave the firm to go work for their clients. It’s usually seen as a good thing, isn’t it? A way to ensure the legal work filters back home. But I can help get you that legal job at Dior. Let me try to work my magic.”

“No, no, Rikash, no crazy pranks, please. This is my big chance.”

“Trust me, dah-ling. Have I ever let you down?”

The next morning Nathan walks into my office looking dejected.

“Hey, what’s up?”

He shuts the door and throws himself into one of the chairs in front of my desk.

“I feel like crap.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t make it, Catherine. I didn’t make partner. Scott just told me a few minutes ago.”

“I’m so sorry, Nathan. I’m sure you’ll make it next year.”

“That’s not the point. Do you know how fucking hard I’ve worked for the last seven years? How many goddamn hours I’ve billed?”

“Did he say why?”

“He said I didn’t do enough work for this and that partner who’s a heavy hitter and this and that partner who pulls more weight on the partnership committee, that I needed to prove that I can market my practice, blah, blah, blah, whatever. It’s a political game, Catherine. It’s all bullshit.”

“But you billed more hours than anyone else in the department.”

“I know. That’s what’s so sickening. I don’t want to do this anymore, Catherine. I just want to go jump off a bridge.”

“I can sympathize.” I pause, considering my next sentence. “I’m really tired of this too. I’m sort of thinking of leaving the firm.”

I can’t believe I’ve said this out loud to Nathan and without even having another job lined up, but it cements my feeling that Edwards & White is not for me. And Harry’s firm wouldn’t be any different.

“I’m not surprised. This is no place for someone like you.”

“Please don’t be discouraged over this, Nathan. It’s not worth it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I read an article in the
New York Law Journal
that said lawyers are among the most depressed people in America.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Depression, alcoholism, drug abuse, divorce, and suicide. We’re an unhappy bunch.”

“At least we beat the dentists.”

I’m relieved to see him crack a joke.

“So what are you going to do now?”

“I have no clue. If I had one ounce of pride, I’d leave, but I’ve invested so much time in this place, I can’t just throw it all away. I can’t believe it.” He drops his head into his hands and begins to sob. “What will I tell my wife? She’ll be furious.”

“Are you doing this for you or for your wife, Nathan? She’s supposed to be supportive. That’s why she’s your wife, remember?”

“I know. But this is so embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not. You could find another job in a minute if you wanted to. You’re a great lawyer.”

I try my best to encourage him, even though I know that lawyers who don’t make partnership after a certain number of years are being sent a not-so-subtle message about their prospects at the firm.

“Why don’t you go work for Harry?”

“He didn’t offer me a position,” he answers, looking even more dejected.

“So what? Maybe he thinks you wouldn’t leave the firm. Call him!”

“Hmm. Not sure. I need to think about it. But thanks, Catherine. You’re the best.”

After Nathan leaves my office, I wonder why it is that I can get everyone else’s career on track but mine. I take a walk
along the firm’s spartan hallways and look at the portraits of the founding partners, Messrs. Edwards and White, with bemusement. Why did I become a lawyer anyway? I get a flashback of gruelling law school exams, endless hours slaving over legal documents, the painful preparation courses endured to be admitted as a lawyer in Paris and New York. If Nathan didn’t make partner, do I really stand a chance? Is leaving the private practice of law the right decision? A junior associate from the litigation group walks by and confirms my decision.

“Love what you’re wearing. Great outfit.”

A
bsence might make the heart grow fonder, but it’s turning mine into cheese fondue, thick and heavy. Although it’s been less than a week since we left California, I miss Antoine dearly and the only thing on my mind is getting across the Atlantic as soon as possible.

“You’ll never guess what happened today.”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me,” Antoine responds jokingly while pointing his finger at the tiny camera. I can see his warm smile thanks to one of the miracles of modern technology: a webcam.

“Both Bonnie and Nathan announced they’re leaving Edwards & White to join Harry’s firm.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Um, hell no!”

“You’re starting to talk like a local. It’s definitely time to get you back to France.”

“Believe me, I’m working on it!”

“Aren’t you glad you declined Harry’s offer? You’d be working for Bonnie again!”

“Ha! It’s the best move I decided
not
to make.”

“Any news from Sandrine?”

“No. I sent her an email with my resumé, but she didn’t respond. Rikash is now working on some diabolical plan to get me an interview. I’m a bit worried.”

“I wouldn’t be! He’s probably out filming a short documentary on your life to send to the legal department.”

“That would be the most depressing film ever.”

“Gee, thanks a lot!”

“Um, I mean it would be all about work, until the fairytale ending.”

“Now that sounds a
lot
better.”

“I’m having lunch with Lisa and her boyfriend, Charles, tomorrow.”

“I wish I could join you.”

“So do I. She can’t wait to meet you.”

“Where are you guys going?”

“Artisanal Bistro.”

“That’s one of my favourites! This is really painful. I miss you, Catherine.”

I say nothing in response.

“Catherine? You’re going silent on me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m finding this really tough too.” As soon as we sign off, I receive a text message.

Close together or far apart, you’re always in my heart.

A.

XXXX

I meet Lisa and Charles at Artisanal and the strong smell of cheese takes me back to my childhood. I inhale deeply while we wait to be seated. Charles greets me with two kisses on the cheek; he’s tall with dirty blond hair, a freckled nose, and straight white teeth. He’s wearing khaki combat pants and a leather bomber jacket and could be a model for the J. Crew catalogue. He graciously pulls out my chair as I take a seat at our table.

“Finally I get to meet you, Catherine. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yes, and I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I’m sure you have. Lisa has probably complained about how bad a boyfriend I’ve been,” he responds jokingly, and reaches to hold Lisa’s hand. I notice the diamond glittering on her left ring finger.

“
Mon dieu!
Lisa! You didn’t tell me!”

“Yes.” She gazes at Charles lovingly. “We’re engaged!”

He kisses her tenderly on the lips.

“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you!”

She glances at Charles before continuing with the details.

“We’d like to get married in France.”

“Really?”

“We were wondering if we could hold our wedding at your mother’s house since we want to do it by the water.”

I flash back to Madame Simona’s mention of a wedding by the water: it was Lisa’s wedding she was referring to. And, actually, I feel a rush of happiness for her—she deserves this.

“My mother would be thrilled.”

“You’re sure she wouldn’t mind?” Charles asks.

“Positive.”

“Thank you so much, Cat!”

“Yes, thanks, Catherine,” Charles chimes in.

“I want you to be my maid of honour.”

“I’d be very happy to.”

“We have to go shopping for my dress! Maybe in Paris?”

“Absolutely! And I’ll take you to Fifi Chachnil’s shop for some beautiful French lingerie.”

Charles looks pleased with my suggestion.

“Yeah, that sounds great!”

After he says this, I stare into my steak frites. I try not to spoil their big moment but can’t help feeling sad that Antoine isn’t here to celebrate the good news. Lisa guesses what I’m thinking.

“You miss Antoine?”

“Yes, very much so.”

After our lunch, I walk back to the office hoping Rikash made some headway in his grand master plan. The firm has been eerily quiet since Harry announced his departure and I just want to get to Paris as fast as I can.

I sit in my chair daydreaming about Paris when Rikash catches my attention.

“Look what just came for you. They’re gorgeous,” he says, placing a large bouquet of white calla lilies on my desk.

“Thanks, Rikash.”

I tear open the envelope and find a handwritten note:

With all my love.

Antoine

I never expected Antoine to express his feelings so quickly, and I’m deeply touched. I’ve spent the six longest and most painful years of my life working ridiculously long hours, grappling each echelon of the career ladder as if my life depended on it. But I’ve been missing out on one of life’s true pleasures: a rewarding relationship.

Rikash stares at me expectantly.

“So?”

“He’s written something very romantic.”

“Why the long face then?”

“I need to find a way to get out of this place.”

“Come on, sweetie. I already told you not to worry.”

“I’m getting more desperate by the second and I’m having trouble concentrating on my files. I have no drive left.”

“You can’t look desperate. You’ll never get anything that
way. You need to act as if you already have the job. Repeat this after me:
I am a fabulous diva and they will kiss my feet.”

“What kind of mantra is that?”

“A sacred one from India. I repeat it in front of the mirror every morning before leaving my apartment. And you know what? It really works.”

“Right. Sorry, Rikash, but I don’t think my dream job at Dior will magically appear by repeating your silly mantra.”

“Silly?” Rikash stares at me defiantly. “Are you calling my cultural heritage silly?”

“Of course not. I’m just not feeling it, that’s all.” I pull out a plastic glass and an emergency bottle of red wine from my desk drawer. “I need a drink.”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually going to drink some of that cheapo stuff?”

“Yes, sir, I am. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“You can say that again.” He rushes out of my office without saying another word.

The next day, I’m nursing a cheap wine hangover when the word
DIOR
appears on my office phone screen.

“Catherine?
Bonjour,
Sandrine Cordier.”

I freeze as I hear her voice.

“Hello, Sandrine, so happy to hear from you. You remember me from our brief conversation in San Diego?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I guess you couldn’t make our appointment. You must be extremely busy.”

“Yes, very busy.”

“Are you calling to reschedule?”

“Not exactly.”

I feel a pang in the pit of my stomach and expect the worst. I hold back tears.

“I’m calling because I just received a FedExed copy of your resumé printed on pink and orange silk taffeta with your initials engraved in gold letters. It makes quite a statement.”

Putain!
I can’t believe Rikash went that far. My one chance at getting the job of my dreams and being with the man I love has just been flushed down the drain. I suddenly have visions of finishing the rest of my days locked in my New York office tied to a swivel chair, billing hours until my face turns blue while junior associates plot to have my desk blown up and my coffee poisoned.

“Oh.”

“You are one
very
determined woman.”

“Um, I can explain.”

“There’s no need. I just showed it to a few of the designers downstairs and they loved your idea. They were amazed that you knew about the colours from their upcoming collection.”

“I’m so pleased they liked it.” I go along with it despite having no clue about what she actually received.

“Can you be in Paris next Thursday for an interview with our CEO?”

There’s a long pause. My heart beats at record speed.

“I have a position that might interest you: Monsieur Le Furet is retiring as our intellectual property director. I need someone to replace him and I see from your resumé that you’ve done some work in this area. It sounds like you would be perfect for the job.”

A profound feeling of euphoria fills every inch of my body. I want to tell her that I’ll even work for free, but I take a deep breath and remember Rikash’s mantra; I can’t appear too desperate. I’ll never get anything that way.

“Yes, I do have relevant experience that could be interesting for this position. I’d be delighted to meet with your CEO.”

After I hang up, I throw a miniature pink bottle of POP Champagne toward Rikash’s cubicle. “You are amazing! Catch!”

“You have a well-stocked mini-bar in that office of yours. Do we have something to celebrate?”

“Oui, monsieur!”

He runs into my office, mini-bottle in hand. “So did it work?”

“It certainly did. I can’t thank you enough, you’re the best.”

He lifts his hands in the air Olympic-champion style and then shakes the mini-bottle of champagne. As he opens it, the contents explode all over my office. I don’t care.

“If I get the job, would you be interested in becoming my assistant? We could wage the war on international counterfeiters together.”

“Not
if
but
when.
Remember the mantra, dah-ling. God, I think you’ll need me in Paris to keep you in line!” He hugs me, then lifts me off my feet.

“This calls for a celebratory
soirée.
How about sushi at the Gansevoort Hotel? Dinner’s on me.”

He grabs his suit jacket and starts skipping down the hallway. “Ready when you are!”

I reach into my drawer.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes; I have an important letter to drop off in the mailroom first.”