by P. M. Briede
I didn’t see Wesley again except for a quick glimpse backstage Saturday night. We’d turned the Freshman Orientation into a fundraiser for those impacted by the Labor Day shooting. The Wyatt’s were in attendance and made a large contribution. The event had grown so large that the Saenger generously donated the use of the theater to host it. It was covered by every major media outlet, at least for the portion of Alexander’s remarks, and was touted as an example of the strength of the human spirit and people coming together in the face of tragedy. It was the same story heard after similar local, national, or international stories. I was irritated Celinda turned it into a political triumph but there wasn’t much I could do. Since Max had insisted on me accompanying him onstage to thank the public and the Wyatt’s for their support and generosity, Abigail was not present at the event.
For once I wasn’t performing and had worn an elegant, fitted emerald gown, with a scooped neckline, capped sleeves, and an open back with lace overlay. There’d been no time between changing the orientation into a benefit, overseeing student rehearsals, and managing the media coverage to continue an appropriate rehearsal schedule for myself, so Olivier and I had scrapped our number. He was still performing with some of the bands and I was very excited to hear him accompany one of our more talented singers on the piano during her rendition of Stay by Rihanna.
She took the stage and stood in the curve of the piano with the stage lights off. It would remain dark until she began singing then there would be one spotlight on her. Olivier put his hands on the piano and deftly stroked the keys. His solo introduction was the only noise heard throughout the theatre. Then she sang.
The lyrics washed over me as I stood quietly in the wings. I was familiar with the fever one feels when trapped by the love of another. In my case I needed to figure out what to do about the passionate love of two men. The song became a cleansing agent to my soul and put everything into perspective. It was time. I knew what I wanted out of the days I had left. I knew who I wanted to share them with. I was ready to meet the challenge of making him as happy as he made me. As Olivier played the last notes I found myself gazing lovingly and longingly at the man who had my heart.
Chapter 10
The campaign left, with Abigail in tow, on Saturday. There hadn’t been time to tell Wesley I’d made my decision. Having sworn to tell him immediately, I just couldn’t do so over the phone. This was something he deserved to hear in person as the knowledge would drum up emotions which would overtake him, making him irrational. No, he couldn’t know until he was safe. The alternatives were just too dangerous.
My trial started the next week. We’d hoped Cleveland and Duke would plead out to take the death penalty off the table. I wasn’t pinning my hopes on it since so far they’d shown no interest in spending life in prison. Paige told me they entered the courtroom every day without a drop of remorse, shame, or repentance. She was going because I couldn’t stomach it. Because of that everyone expected it to go to the jury. At least until Olivier took the stand.
His testimony took hours as the district attorney asked him to state the facts of the tail end of my attack. My personal hell was painted with words for everyone in the room. The defense attorney made multiple attempts to trip Olivier up, ruffle his feathers, and discredit his testimony. But Olivier didn’t fold under the pressure of a few questions from a sleazy attorney. Hell, the man had told me just that morning he’d been present for the Spanish Inquisition. When Olivier was through the judge called a recess and the defense attorney approached the DA. A deal was reached and Duke and Cleveland were scheduled to be sentenced to life in prison the next week.
The rest of September flew by. The news continued to be littered with talk of war and acts of violence but it was nothing compared to the chaos from the week of Labor Day. The debates were fast approaching and Alexander was now leading by a small margin. Everyone knew if he performed well in the debates, the Presidency would be his. The first one was scheduled to air on the last Tuesday of September.
The weekend before the debate Olivier had to travel with the band and choir to the state competition. I was flooded with options on what to do since being left alone was not one of them. The first was to travel with Olivier but his first priority needed to be the students, not me, so I refused to go. Wesley suggested I could travel with Paige to meet the campaign in Ohio while they were preparing for the debate. I wasn’t alone in thinking this was a bad idea as Abigail would be there. Since Wesley and I were still not supposed to be on speaking terms it would be odd that I’d agree to accompany Paige to the campaign. In the end, Paige booked us a girl’s weekend at a spa in North Carolina. So Olivier left with the school for four days while I went with Paige for the same amount of time.
As we drove home I was astonished with how relaxed I felt leaving the spa. The first few hours of the drive through the Rocky Mountains in North Carolina were stunning and I spent them silently gazing out the window while I daydreamed. “Found the spa calmer than you originally anticipated, did you? Brought you the peace you needed?” Paige teased when she could no longer take the silence. However, I was proud of her for holding out for as long as she had, giving me the internal revelry I needed.
“Laugh all you want Paige, but yes, I do feel more centered and grounded. And thank you for all you did to make it happen. I’ll always be indebted to you for that.” She’d started our conversation in a teasing manner but I sincerely meant everything I’d said. The weekend had given me some insight and closure on all that was weighing me down about our circumstances. “How are you and Tristan doing?” We hadn’t really talked about her love life in over a month.
“We’re really good, Charlotte. Actually, I’ve been meaning to get your opinion on something.” She squirmed in the seat until the car actually swerved on the road. My attention immediately left the mountain scenery to stare at her. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
This had to be serious and given her sudden nervousness at the mere mention of Tristan, I had some idea of the cause. “Have you given any thought to what you want once we’ve succeeded?” Paige asked. I had but not as much as I’d given to what I wanted in case we didn’t. But I was much more of a pessimist than she. Nodding, I waited for Paige to continue and it was longer than I’d anticipated. “This shithole we’re in puts a lot of things into perspective. You and I, we’re not getting any younger.”
“No, we’re not,” I agreed. “So what’s troubling you?” She was still trembling some with emotion. “Do I need to drive?”
Barking a quick chortle, she shook her head. “And have you fall asleep behind the wheel? Um, no. I realize this isn’t exactly my best driving but I don’t really want to die today.” You make one little mistake, more than fifteen years ago and people refuse to let you drive long distances. No matter, though, I really hated to do so anyway.
Paige picked back up our conversation. “As I was saying, we’re not getting any younger. I love Tristan, more than I ever thought was possible to love someone who wasn’t your own child. Add in this angel mess we’re entrenched in, though I’m still confident everything is going to work out in the end, and I’m starting to think about what I want now in case it doesn’t.” Seeing the worst possible outcome was very difficult for Paige. So I wasn’t surprised when her voice trailed off at the end. You’d think because of her job and everything she’s seen that keeping a positive outlook on the human race in general would be difficult. Yet she constantly attested that observing people rise above the worst calamities life could present actually strengthened her idealism.
“When did you get the ring?” I asked with a straight face. Her jaw dropped like I’d just tied a stone to it. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I really hate you sometimes!” Paige spat while glaring at me. “You know that?” But her eyes were the only things supporting her words. Her lips were curved in a girly smile and her cheeks were rosy with an actual blush. My Paige, blushing? Never thought I’d see the day. “I’ve had it since the Fa
ll Orientation. Tristan said he couldn’t leave town again without knowing I’d marry him. It really sucked when he did.”
Somehow from the way she said it, I knew she wasn’t saying it had been hard having him leave town after agreeing to be his wife. “You haven’t answered him! Are you out of your damn mind? That was three weeks ago! Why the hell not?” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice and inside the confined space of the car it boomed and echoed.
Frustrated Paige railed back. “I don’t need a lecture from the woman who still hasn’t decided on which wonderful man to love for the rest of her life.” Ha! Little did she know that wasn’t true! “It’s a little more complicated for me, Charlotte. I’m not just making a decision for myself. I have kids who are impacted as well.”
“Don’t you dare hide behind the boys!” I countered. “They adore Tristan; this is all on you. So again I ask, why the hell not?” It seemed Olivier really had been good for me in a lot of ways because before him I’d never have called Paige out. She did me, there was no doubt about that, but I never returned the favor.
Finally resigning herself to the fact that I wasn’t going to play the role of placating friend, Paige admitted to what was holding her back. “It’s not the same for me as it was for you. Giles was a wonderful husband. You two had a wonderful marriage, a true partnership. I loved Jim and thought he loved me. When I found out he didn’t, at least not in a way where I was enough for him, I was devastated. Our marriage had never been easy but I’d just attributed that to life. I’m afraid once I marry Tristan it’s all going to sour. I could handle it but I don’t think the boys could.”
Unable to keep myself from sympathizing with her sentiments, I still didn’t agree with them. “Paige, Tristan isn’t Jim. They’re not even in the same league. Jim and you married young…”
“I wasn’t much younger than you!” she cut in.
“But Jim also wasn’t Giles.” Given how hesitant I’d been to enter into a relationship with Olivier after suffering a broken heart from what I thought was a betrayal, I was willing to cut Paige some slack. I took her hand in mine and squeezed. “This is going to be better, Paige, I just know it. He’s the one. Trust him; he’s not going to let you down.” I grabbed her Bluetooth out of the console and thrust it out towards her. “Call him, now. Don’t make him suffer any longer.” In an effort to give her privacy, I held up my ear buds, put them in my ears, plugged the cord into my phone, and selected the music app.
Before I could press play she made one last attempt to put it off. “Isn’t this something he’d want to hear in person?”
With a roll of my eyes I put the Bluetooth in her ear and dialed his number. “Don’t be Wesley. The sooner you tell Tristan, the sooner you’ll relieve him of his misery,” I whispered.
I resumed my own internal musings as I gazed out the window. I turned the music up until I couldn’t hear what Paige was saying. It actually hurt my ears, but I didn’t want to be the third wheel during the conclusion of Tristan’s three week proposal. While listening to probably a dozen songs, I was aware of her getting into the console and wriggling in her seat but I wasn’t sure what for. My thoughts were filled with what I would have done had I been in her position and I couldn’t help but be a bit envious.
When Paige tapped me on the arm I pulled out my ear buds and turned impatient eyes on her, eager to get all the details of their conversation. There was a Cheshire grin on her face and her eyes were still misty from her emotional relief. She must have cleaned herself up some because there were tissues stuffed into the cup holders. Unable to hug her since we were in the car I again took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. Tristan’s ring was now where it should have been for weeks: on Paige’s left hand.
With that settled she prattled on about how overjoyed he’d sounded, how they both wished they could celebrate together, and when he thought he’d be able to steal away home again. While she was talking, my burner phone vibrated. When I pulled it out of my purse I saw a text from Wesley. Engaged, huh?
That was fast. Tristan call you immediately? I replied
Yeah, tell Paige congrats from me. Makes me wistful. You jealous? I sighed because Wesley had cut straight to the heart of the feelings I didn’t really want to admit. In truth, I was jealous of her getting to plan and revel in her future. “Who’s that?” she demanded when she realized my full attention was solely focused on her.
“Wesley,” I answered in a tone that didn’t give away my envy. “He says congrats.” Nodding, Paige picked up where she’d left off. She says thanks. And not as much as you might think.
Think you’re going to be the Maid of Honor?
Probably why?
Cause I’m the Best Man. Save me a dance?
Her irritated voice rang out. “Will you put that damn thing down, Charlotte?! You haven’t even been listening to me. We’ve got another seven hours and I plan to spend them nailing down the details of the wedding.” I’d obviously missed some important information especially if we needed to start making arrangements immediately. This was typical for Paige, though. Once the decision was made she moved ahead at warp speed.
Sure. Look I need to get back to Paige. Take care of yourself. I texted Wesley.
I will. Call me after the debate? Oh and mention that the Wyatt’s want to come to the wedding.
Sure.
I informed Paige of the Wyatt’s request. “Crap, I hadn’t thought of them but it makes sense. Of course, they can come but absolutely not Celinda or Abigail.”
Damn, I hadn’t considered that! Wesley and Abigail were pseudo engaged so it stood to reason that the Wyatt’s would wonder at her absence. “Paige you’re going to have to allow Abigail.” Wesley was going to hate this. I felt bad because seeing me there with Olivier was going to be hard enough on him. “I’m sure we can get around Celinda since it’s no secret Tristan and she aren’t on friendly terms.”
“You would think that on my wedding day I could escape this farce and not be faced with people I cannot stand,” she grumbled in a derisive tone. Paige was right but I chose to let the comment die for now. It was probably going to be Olivier and me against the Wesley, Paige, and Tristan when it came to Abigail. It was either that or tell the Wyatt’s they couldn’t come.
Once we were an hour outside of New Orleans, I could no longer suppress my burning question. Paige immediately jumping into the planning phase of her wedding hadn’t surprised me but her jumping into a very immediate wedding did. The plan was to have it the first weekend after the debates. “Why the rush, Paige?”
“Good grief, Charlotte, I’m not speeding.”
Confused, it took me a moment to realize she’d misunderstood my meaning. With a light laugh, I clarified. “I wasn’t implying you were. Why the rush to the altar? When we got in the car you weren’t even sure if you should marry Tristan, a few hours later and the wedding is mostly planned and will hopefully happen within the month.”
With a sigh that was simultaneously reflective and aggravated Paige explained. “Maybe it’s stupid but the impending doom has me scared there may not be an afterward. I want Tristan and I want him now. I know you probably think I’m crazy. Maybe I am.” She was right I did think it was a little crazy for her. What she didn’t know, though, was I understood the insanity more than she could possibly imagine.
Paige dropped me off at home. Since Olivier wouldn’t be home until closer to nine I knew he’d appreciate a text letting him know I was home safe. He responded by calling almost immediately. “Hey, are you still looking at nine?” I asked as a greeting.
“Yeah. Do you mind waiting up? I’ve missed you.” The huskiness and longing in his voice was almost as palpable a catalyst to my senses as Olivier himself would have been. “You still there, carissime?”
“I’m still here. I missed you too.”
“That’s right,” he teased with a relieved chuckle. “It was completely obvious with the incessant interruptions I got from you all weekend. How had I forgotten?”
>
“I don’t have to take this from you,” I teased back. “It’s not like there were abundant communications from you.” Not in a mood to fight with him, even if in jest, I changed the subject. I told Olivier we would be attending a wedding sometime within the next month. Going through the details, I could hear how much he envied them.
“Well, good for them. I guess that means we’ll being seeing Breaux and Abigail also?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’m probably going to need your help on that front. I think we’ll be the only two in agreement.” The idea of the war Abigail was going to cause and the hurt we’d all feel as a result was nauseating. I hadn’t seen her since that night in Wesley’s hotel room.
“You sound tired, Charlotte. You really don’t have to wait up for me.”
“It’s not that long, Olivier. But in case I don’t, please feel free to wake me up when you get home. Pwamise?” I yawned out. Until he’d said something I hadn’t realized how tired I felt. The weekend really had been refreshing and I’d been able to release the last of my burdens in many ways. I guess I’d assumed my tranquil state of mind had transferred to the state of my body. Now unable to stop yawning it seemed more and more likely I wouldn’t be able to stay up until Olivier got home.
“It’s a promise I’ll gladly make,” Olivier agreed, “but for now get some rest. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” I hung up the phone, went back to the kitchen, made myself a light dinner, and put myself in bed. In the morning I awoke to find Olivier curled against my back with his arms wrapped around me still in the clothes he must have worn during the drive home. When I shifted to see his face the movement caused his eyes to pop open. “Good morning,” he welcomed me as his nose nuzzled my ear. “Before you scold me for not waking you, I tried, multiple times. You must have been exhausted.”