by Read, Calia
Once Beau and I make it into the church foyer, I thank him and watch him make his way to Serene. The entire time I can sense Asa behind me, coming closer and closer.
Then, sure enough, the clean fresh scent of him fills my nostrils. My heart clinches; years of memories flash through my mind. All from his scent alone.
“Hello, Nathalie,” Asa greets.
I give him a friendly, courteous smile. “Asa, nice to see you.”
Like the rest of the men, Asa is wearing a tuxedo. The jacket and pants are tailor-made. The lapels of his jacket are a black silk. His tuxedo jacket is unbuttoned showing his black waistcoat. There’s not a wrinkle on his white shirt and his bow tie is perfectly straight.
Did Juliet help him get ready? Did she straighten the bow tie before they left their home and comment on how handsome he looked? The satin lapels blend with his dark hair and even though he is clean-shaven, I can already see the dark stubble trying to grow back. I always loved when he didn’t shave. His facial hair matched his intensity and every time he would kiss me, it tickled my face. Asa would always insist he had to be professional for work. This close, and I’m almost tempted to reach out and brush my hand across his cheek. The day in his office was at the end of the day. I felt the stubble against my palm, and along my neck and now I-
“You look lovely,” Asa says, intruding my thoughts. I look at him and find him watching me with earnest. But his brown eyes nearly burn. It’s as though he can sense my thoughts.
I dip my head. “Thank you.” Because Juliet remains at his side, I smile courteously at her. “Hello, how are you?”
“I am quite well.” As always, Juliet remains as soft spoken as ever. I find myself wondering, not for the first time, if Asa’s wife ever has a thought that’s out of turn, or is it nothing but sunshine and butterflies in her mind?
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Serene says, “But only the wedding party can be back here.” Serene appears sincere, but if I know her as well as I do, I don’t think she’s regretful in the slightest.
“All right. I’ll go find my seat.” Juliet bids Asa goodbye and before she retreats to her seat next to his parents, she looks between me and Asa. Her eyes are wide… almost cautious. Then, she regards me, and I see nothing but venom. It so powerful, it clouds her eyes, darkening her blue irises. The swift change takes me by such surprise, I slightly veer back. Within the blink of an eye, though, the hatred has cleared, and she’s back to being calm and affable Juliet.
I watch her walk away, and chills drift down my spine. Asa doesn’t outwardly respond to Juliet’s absence, but I’ve watched him my entire life. I know when he’s uncomfortable or at ease, simply by the set of his shoulders or the flex of his fingers. And right now, his shoulders aren’t as tense as before.
Asa is uncomfortable around Juliet.
I don’t know what to think of my conclusion. I cannot ask Asa how his marriage is. There is a part of me that is afraid to know the answer.
“She will never care for me.”
“It’s not that…” The look I give him makes his words fade. He seems to think over his response and says, “No, I don’t believe she will.”
“Fair enough,” I concede after a beat of silence. “That’s to be expected considerin’ I interrupted her weddin’.”
Asa has nothing to say to that because he knows I’m right. We don’t say much of anything after that, and when a lady gestures for us to look her way, I’m almost relieved.
“Music should begin soon. Please line up with your groomsman.”
Asa and I stand next to one another. Serene and Beau are in front of us. My sister-in-law slides her hand into the crook of Beau’s arm. Looking over my shoulder, I see Rainey’s cousin has done the same with her partner. The only two people who are standing stiffly beside one another is me and Asa. I know he notices too because he looks down at me, then toward Serene and Beau, and wordlessly offers his arm.
To deny him would draw more attention to the two of us, than accepting it would. I slide my arm through his. My fingers settle on the inside of his forearm. I can feel the tension coming off his body. I try to keep a polite distance because every breath he takes seems to bring him closer. The brush of his elbow against my skin makes me unstable, hanging onto him even tighter.
I wait, very impatiently, for the bridal party to move forward.
And continue to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
I can’t stand this close to Asa for much longer.
“What could be takin’ so long?” Rainey’s cousin complains behind us.
Serene and Beau separate and quietly begin talking. I begin to think that perhaps we should do the same because it doesn’t seem like we’re going to be walking down the aisle soon. But as I start to slide my arm away from the crook of his elbow, Asa tightens his hold. It’s a subtle move, one that nobody would notice.
Nobody but me.
My heart is already beating much too fast.
“Beau is sweet on you.”
The remark is harsh and abrupt. It takes me several seconds to realize Asa’s speaking to me. Maybe because he looks around the vestibule and everyone in it, not at me.
I look at Beau’s figure in front of me. He doesn’t seem to have heard Asa’s remark. “How do you know?” I ask in a lower voice.
“Because of how he spoke with you.”
I shake my head at the absurdity. “It was a friendly conversation that lasted for no more than a few seconds.”
Asa finally turns to me. I see the well-masked jealously in his eyes. “Perhaps it was friendly to you, but not to him.”
I take a deep breath. “Would it be so terrible if I was with someone such as Beau?” I whisper.
Before I finish my words, Asa is holding my hand flush against his body.
“Nathalie,” he warns.
“Can I not find love again?”
He searches my gaze, and there’s a moment where I think he’s going to speak his truth. Every thought that has rested heavy on his soul is ready to come out. His mouth opens, but at the last moment, he shakes his head.
I close my eyes and look away.
“You will always be my Lady Gouldian,” he whispers into my ear.
Hurt at what can never be, I look him in the eye. “That’s not enough for me, Asa.”
In front of the wedding party, a lady signals it’s time to walk. The church doors open, and the pianist and violinist begin to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D.
Beau and Serene go before us. Asa and I wait until they’re midway before we begin to walk.
The two of us look ahead, refusing to acknowledge the people around us and the conversation we had.
The saddest part of it all is I cling to him, knowing this is the closest we’ll ever get to us walking down the aisle together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Nathalie
Conversations swirl around me as I remain lost in my thoughts.
The reception began an hour ago, and I’m already anxious for it to end.
Belgrave opened its doors for the reception, but it isn’t filled to the hilt with guests. There isn’t an excessive number of decorations that it borders on garish. No eight-course meal that the cooks spent days working tirelessly over.
This reception is the opposite of mine and Oliver’s.
Oh, and the most important contrast? Livingston and Rainey are irrevocably and deeply in love with one another.
During dinner, they sit close to one another, talking to each other as though there’s no one else in the room. This is a time to celebrate their love and what they’re building together. If that isn’t the furthest from Oliver and me, then I don’t know what is.
“Il y a des chambres à coucher pour ça,” Étienne murmurs to me.
“Tu oublies facilement ton passé, et ton vécu avec Serene,” I reply.
“We have never been quite so… lustful in public,” Étienne answers.
Turning my attention
to the bride and groom, I lift a shoulder. “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that, but I think it’s quite sweet how they’re behavin’.”
About this time, Serene leans toward us. “Is he being all weird about Livingston and Rainey’s PDA?”
“PDA?” I repeat.
“You know…” Serene says, her words fading as she stares at me meaningfully.
“I’m afraid I do not.”
“Public display of affection,” Serene patiently provides. She points to Étienne. “He can’t help that he’s shy when it comes to affection.”
At once, Étienne protests, although his face turns red. “I am not shy. That is ridiculous.”
I observe him for several seconds. “You know, I’ve never thought about it that way. You are shy.”
Étienne merely shakes his head, not bothering to deny it. He thinks I don’t notice, but beneath the table, I see his hand curve around her knee, before it rests on her thigh.
The two of them are so comfortable and at ease with their love. I want that for myself so badly my heart aches for it.
I pick up my champagne glass and take a long drink.
“He’s been staring at you the whole time,” Serene whispers in my ear.
I lower my glass and stare into the contents. Serene doesn’t need to say who ‘he’ is for my heart to begin pounding. “Don’t be absurd,” I mutter.
“He is,” she insists. “And if he stares any more, I think Étienne might snap him in two.” I take another drink while Serene laughs. “You can make that face all you want, Nat, but you know I’m right.”
Placing my drink on the table I look to my sister-in-law. “You know why I appear confused and hurt? It’s because I am,” I openly confess before I shake my head. “I don’t understand him, Serene.”
“I know.”
“How could he marry her?” I ask, my voice bordering on desperate. “How?”
Serene looks at me with pity. “I wish I knew.” She hesitates, her gaze moving between me and my drink. “Say, Nathalie… how many drinks have you had?”
I frown and try to count in my head, but it’s far too much work. So I just shrug.
Serene laughs. “Keep it up, and you’re going to get shit-faced tonight.”
My nose wrinkles because the term shit-faced sounds familiar. And then I realize why. Serene has said that once before. The day of my wedding to Oliver. That day I was a bundle of nerves; I thought I was going to be sick. Everyone kept telling me it was normal. Every bride-to-be got jittery. But I think, deep down, I knew I was doing the wrong thing. I knew Oliver wasn’t the man for me, but it was far too late to back out then.
I’ve regretted the decision ever since.
I swirl the wine glass and watch the colored liquid spin in my glass. “I would be dishonest if I said the thought hadn’t passed through my head once or twice. Does it truly matter? Look around us, everyone else is well beyond their third glass of champagne. Even Étienne seems to be enjoyin’ himself.”
The two of us turn toward the topic of our conversation. Étienne is speaking to the guest on the other side of him loudly. Very, very loudly. It’s rare that Étienne drinks in excess, but when he does, this is how it begins. He always maintains his composure, but it’s as though he forgets he’s indoors and shouts his thoughts. And soon, he’ll become amicable and good-natured. A foxed Étienne is quite entertaining.
Serene shakes her head before she turns back to me. “Nothing good will come out of drinking your sorrows away.”
I arch a brow. “You got ‘shit-faced’ at my reception,” I point out.
“You’re right, I did.”
“Do you regret it?”
Serene doesn’t immediately answer, which has me leaning in. Finally, after several seconds, she looks at me and smiles. Her eyes are filled with distant memories from the past. “No. I don’t suppose I do,” she says softly.
Serene turns to speak with the guest next to her. I take that opportunity to look across the table.
“I must say, it’s so lovely to see you again, Nathalie,” Rainey’s momma says from across the table.
Her cheeks are rosy and there’s a small sparkle in her eye. It’s apparent Mrs. Pleasonton is well into her fourth or fifth glass of champagne because she’s speaking to me as though this is the first time she’s seen me today. Hell, since I’ve been back in Charleston.
I smile back. “It’s lovely to see you.”
Earnestly, she leans forward. “I was thinkin’, dear; we must find you someone.” The champagne makes Mrs. Pleasonton’s tongue bolder than normal. Everyone sitting at the table laughs.
“Momma, should she have a bachelor ball of her own?” Rainey asks.
“I can host it!” Serene chimes in.
“No, no…” With laughter, I wave their words away. “I’m fine.”
My gaze clashes with Asa’s. My heart becomes lodged in my throat, and my grip on the glass tightens as I fight to maintain my composure. His gaze his downright feral as though he wants to devour me. I can feel his jealousy as if it’s mine. It’s hot and acrid, making every breath a chore. The longer we look at one another, the stormier those eyes become. He’s staring at me as though I was the one who made the suggestion of finding a husband. Beside him, Juliet places her hand on his arm and pulls his attention away.
At once, I look away and exhale a shaky breath. I toss back the rest of my drink in the most unladylike of ways.
I made it through the wedding. I can manage a simple dinner, but it’s going to be with the help of alcohol and lots of it.
“Is that little Nathalie Lacroix?”
I turn to see one of Livingston’s longtime friends approaching. “Hello Conrad.”
It’s strange to have someone call me by my maiden name. It’s been quite some time, but I miss the sound of it. I was never meant to be a Claiborne.
Conrad leans against the chair next to me, altogether disregarding one of Rainey’s distant relatives sitting there. They look over their shoulder at him before they shake their head and turn back around. Conrad takes a long drink of the amber liquid in his hands, as if it’s water.
“You look positively stunnin’.”
I accept his compliment with a smile and give him my full attention. “Why thank you.”
“And don’t I look handsome?” he asks with mock hurt.
I carefully regard him. To be a good friend of Livingston, one has to be a thorough black sheep, too handsome for their own good. Conrad is no exception. If I’m not mistaken, he was one of the bachelors that vied to be Rainey’s husband.
His reputation as a seducer proceeds him, but for tonight’s reception, where love is all around me, he will serve as a welcome distraction.
I meet his gaze and shrug. “I suppose one might call you pleasin’ to the eye,” I say playfully.
“My God, woman! You wound me.”
“Impossible.” I wag a finger at him. “The night just began.”
Conrad arches a brow and looks me up and down. “Indeed.” He leans in and smirks devilishly. “If you do me the honor, I would love to have a dance with you.”
Before I answer, I look out the corner of my eye and see Asa listening to our conversation. I give my focus to Conrad and smile brilliantly. “I would love to.”
Conrad holds his glass between us. “To tonight,” he toasts.
“To tonight.”
I will never know the proper definition of “shit-faced.”
Although I believe I am coming close to the word. Am I drunk? Quiet possibly. I can certainly stand on my own two feet and hold conversations with the guests in attendance. I know tomorrow morning I’ll remember everything that happened. It won’t come to me in bits and pieces like a bad nightmare.
I straddle the line between remembering tonight’s events and simply not caring.
But I feel pleasant. My skin is flushed, as though my blood has been replaced with lava. I’m not as sad, or as angry, or as worried about what my futu
re may bring. I only care about right now.
I take another sip of my champagne and turn toward the quartet. As I dance by myself on the ballroom floor, I lift my arms, as though I’m a conductor.
Most of the guests left some time ago, leaving only a handful behind, and giving me almost the entire ballroom floor to myself.
Behind me, I hear a deep chuckle, and for a moment, I close my eyes and pretend it’s Asa. But it’s not meant to be. He’s somewhere in this room. Watching me. Always watching. A hand curls around my shoulder.
“Let’s dance,” Conrad says.
I shake my head. “I don’t dance. I dance,” I say, curling my arm through Conrad’s.
He winks at me as he turns us to face each other. “Show me how well you can dance.”
So I do. My steps are as elegant and agile as if we were sober because, in the South, manners and your graceful steps in a ballroom are worth the same currency as money. And sometimes, in the end, it is all you have left.
“Have you always been this beguilin?” Conrad asks.
“I believe so.”
“Then how am I just noticin’?”
“Because I’m simply the last available skirt in Charleston to chase,” I say.
Conrad tilts his head back and laughs. He gives me a spin and brings me back into his arms.
“Marry me, Nathalie,” he teases.
“You’re foxed, Conrad,” I reply.
“So are you. It makes us a perfect match.”
“The difference is, I do not make this a nightly occasion.”
My reply earns another laugh from him, as he moves us across the ballroom floor.
“Let me ask again. Marry me.”
Shaking my head, I smile. “No, and before you ask, it’s because you are a womanizer.”
“Then reform me,” Conrad says, playfully trying his hand one last time.
I sigh dramatically. “I’m afraid the answer is still no.”
Having one womanizer as a husband was bad enough. I would never make that mistake again.
At least with Conrad, I would know what I would be getting. He doesn’t hide his flaws.