Honeymoon in Paris

by Juliette Sobanet

  “So you agreed to the drink?”

  Luc nodded. “Like I said, it won’t take long. Then you and I will have our romantic evening in the city. I have something very special planned for our last night.”

  I masked the spurt of rage and disappointment that boiled up inside my chest at the thought of spending even one hour with Luc’s drop-dead gorgeous ex-wife and instead squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. Whatever we need to do to protect Adeline.”

  Luc raised my hand to his lips and gave me three soft kisses. “Don’t worry, ma belle, we have twenty-four more days of our lune de miel period. I promise to make them the best twenty-four days of your life.”

  I barely heard Luc’s words, though, because I was already worrying about what I would wear to the bar tonight. Then I remembered my text exchange with Lexi. A dose of her feistiness—and her shopping expertise—was just what I needed.

  At the same time, after everything that had just happened, I didn’t want to leave Luc alone on the last afternoon of our honeymoon.

  “What is it, mon amour?” Luc asked.

  “If you have something special planned for tonight, I’m going to need something special to wear,” I said. “Would you mind terribly if I met up with Lexi for a few hours this afternoon?”

  Luc lifted a knowing brow. “This isn’t a competition, you know. You will look stunning in whatever you wear.”

  “Luc, I’m not worried about Brig—” I began, but Luc stopped me from saying her name by planting his soft lips on mine.

  Running his hands over my hair, he shot me a sweet grin. “Whatever you want, chérie.”

  “Thanks, Luc. I won’t be long,” I said.

  “Of course, ma princesse. Have fun.”

  After Luc and I parted ways, I texted Lexi.

  Where r u? Had run-in with Luc’s ex and having drinks with her tonight. Urgent wine and shopping trip in order.

  Not more than five seconds later, Lexi responded:

  Meet me at Les Deux Magots in 30 mins. Not to worry. An hour of shopping with me and you will look so hot tonight, that bitch won’t know what hit her.

  Thank God for girlfriends.

  THREE

  “Luc’s ex-wife is Brigitte Beaumont? Are you kidding me?” Lexi’s gorgeous amber eyes widened in horror as I settled into our tiny sidewalk table underneath the green awning of Les Deux Magots Café.

  “Dead serious.”

  “Now I understand the need for an afternoon wine binge. Here, drink this.” Lexi handed me her glass, then shot the young French waiter a seductive smile. Not more than two seconds later, he was hovering over our table with a goofy grin on his face.

  “We’ll take a bottle of Bordeaux, s’il vous plaît,” she ordered in French.

  The waiter held Lexi in an awkward smile before bustling off in his long white apron.

  “How on earth could he have left out that vital piece of information?” Lexi scoffed.

  I took a massive sip of Lexi’s Merlot, closing my eyes as the blackberry-flavored liquid sloshed down my throat, then quickly decided one sip wasn’t enough.

  “I know you guys got married really quickly, but her freaking face is plastered all over Paris right now. He had to have known you’d find out eventually,” she said.

  After two long gulps, I finally spoke. “I know. And you should see her in person. She looks like she’s eighteen years old.” The more wine I drank, the younger and prettier Brigitte became. “She’s absolutely stunning. Bitchy, but stunning.”

  “Yeah, but bitchy and stunning doesn’t equal intelligent, kind, loving, and beautiful, which is what you are—and which is why Luc married you.”

  When I responded by downing the rest of her glass in one fast gulp, Lexi’s eyes narrowed in concern. “You’re not regretting your decision to marry Luc, are you?”

  “No, of course not. I’m totally in love with Luc, and this situation doesn’t make me doubt his love for me either. I only wish he’d told me the whole story about Brigitte… and I feel like he’s hiding more from me too.”

  “What do you mean?” Lexi asked.

  I peered at the tables to either side of us, then leaned closer to Lexi before filling her in on Luc’s secretive connection to the famous Boucher family. But she quickly cut me off.

  “Back it up. Your husband grew up with the actors Nicolas and Marcel Boucher? This just gets juicier by the second. I have been in love with Nicolas Boucher since I was like fifteen. Oh, what I would do to that man if I ever got the chance to meet him…” Lexi’s gaze trailed past me out to the bustling Boulevard Saint-Germain, where a man on a little blue scooter zipped through a red light.

  “Focus, Lexi. We’re not going to meet Nicolas because Luc doesn’t even talk to him anymore.”

  “But Luc’s ex-wife is dating Nicolas’ dad. There’s a chance we might—”

  “Even if we could, you’re with Dylan, remember? The guy you’ve been in love with for years who you’ve finally committed to and just moved to Paris with? That one?”

  Lexi flicked the stem of the wineglass. “The one who fights with me nonstop about every little thing? Seriously, Char, I don’t know if I’m cut out for this cohabitation business. Or this monogamy madness. How do you do it?”

  Just then, the waiter came in for the save, a bottle of red wine and an extra glass in hand. Lexi thanked him with a bat of her long eyelashes and a wink.

  “I didn’t know you and Dylan were fighting. You seemed so happy together at our wedding last weekend,” I said once we were left alone again.

  “What wasn’t to be happy about? We were in Annecy, the most charming, romantic town in the French Alps, drinking our faces off, watching your wild mother and crazy Aunt Liza dry hump Luc’s unsuspecting uncle on the dance floor. Not to mention the look on your dad’s face while this was all going down. Then when your mom yanked your dad’s prissy girlfriend up to the dance floor, I almost died.”

  I plunged my head in my hands. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m never inviting them anywhere ever again. Thank God I only have to get married once.”

  My parents had recently divorced after thirty years of a mostly unhappy marriage, and my mom was now living in Florida with my leopard-print-sporting, sleep-with-anything-over-fifty-that-walks Aunt Liza. And my dad was dating a woman named Jane, otherwise known as the Ice Queen of the Century.

  My wedding had been the first opportunity I’d had to spend time with either of my parents since the divorce, and it hadn’t been pretty. More like a soap opera on crack. Luckily the arrival of all of my closest girlfriends had kept me sane and focused on the real reasons for the family gathering: my unending love for Luc, and my decision to spend the rest of my life with him.

  Of course the smooth French wine that flowed more heavily than the Lake of Annecy hadn’t hurt in my quest to stay sane throughout the wedding weekend either.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up traumatizing family memories,” Lexi said before taking a long sip of her wine. “Besides the family drama and that random couple who crashed the cocktail cruise, your wedding was absolutely gorgeous, Char.”

  “That was so bizarre, wasn’t it? Did I tell you that it turns out that couple was running from the police? Luc and I were stopped and questioned on the way to the reception. They thought we were helping them escape.”

  “Oh my gosh, that’s insane! Do you know what they did?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it had something to do with a stolen painting. Whatever it was, it was crazy.”

  “Agreed,” Lexi said. “But the craziest part of all is how much you and Luc love each other. I’ve never seen anything like it. I love Dylan, I do. But it’s not like the two of you—and I don’t think it ever will be.”

  “No relationship is perfect, though,” I admitted, avoiding Lexi’s gaze.

  “Is there something else going on besides all of this ex-wife drama?” she asked.

  “Just a few small concerns. I’m sure it’s nothing,” I said with
a wave of my hand. I already felt bad enough that Luc hadn’t been one hundred percent open with me about his ex; the last thing I wanted to do was make my girlfriends think I’d made a mistake in marrying him so quickly.

  Lexi leveled a serious gaze at me. “Char, you’ve seen me at my absolute worst. You didn’t judge me, and you didn’t tell a soul.” Lexi was referring to a scary hospitalization she’d had a few months back after a serious bout of depression. Besides her brother, I was the only other person she trusted with the whole story.

  “I know that compared to Fiona, I might seem like the crazier friend,” she continued. “But I am always here for you, and I will never judge you. You can tell me anything, Char. Trust me, these lips are sealed.”

  “Thanks, Lex,” I said, realizing just what a wonderful friend Lexi had become over the past year.

  “So, what else is worrying you?” she asked.

  “Well… with our engagement happening so quickly, Luc and I haven’t had a proper chance to sit down and discuss finances. I’m sure we’ll get to it once we’re back home in Lyon next week. But with the amount he must’ve spent on this luxurious honeymoon, I’m a little worried. I mean, he just went through a messy divorce and a long custody battle, and he’s starting off a new career as a college professor. I asked him if he’s getting alimony from Brigitte, and he denied it. He said he saved a lot during his years in finance, but what if he’s putting us in debt and not telling me?”

  Lexi cleared her throat as she crossed her hands over the table. “Char, when Fiona and I checked out of our hotel in Annecy after your wedding, we found out that Luc had taken care of the entire bill.”

  “You mean he paid for your and Fiona’s hotel stay?” I asked.

  “No, he paid for everyone’s hotel stay. Not just ours,” she said.

  “As in my parents, our friends, his family? Everyone?”

  “Everyone,” Lexi confirmed.

  “But that must’ve cost him—or us—thousands of dollars. The hotel was practically sitting right on the Lake of Annecy. It wasn’t cheap,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Char, I probably shouldn’t have rocked the boat even further, but after what you just told me, I thought you should know.”

  I wrapped my fingers around the stem of my wineglass and stared into the dark red liquid. Why wouldn’t Luc tell me he’d taken care of the entire hotel bill? And where was he getting all of this money?

  Lexi’s reassuring voice interrupted my thoughts. “Luc’s a really smart guy, and like he pointed out, he used to be in finance. Those guys make a lot of money. I’m sure he’s saved a lot over the years.”

  “Of course,” I said with a smile, but I couldn’t deny the underlying doubt eating away at my insides. “I think this whole Brigitte situation has just gotten me all stirred up. We’ll have the finance talk as soon as we get home, and I’m sure it will all turn out fine.”

  Lexi placed a hand on my arm. “Of course it will, Char. That man is so in love with you, he can hardly see straight. So what if he’s a little secretive? There isn’t a man on this earth who likes to open up about his past mistakes or his family drama. Plus, you have to remember, this is France. The rules are different here.”

  “So, having drinks with my husband’s rail-thin, vindictive, drug-addict ex-wife and her sexy older boyfriend—who, by the way, my husband seems to hate—on the last day of our honeymoon just comes with the territory? If that’s the case, then someone needs to write a detailed guidebook to French marriage. I’d be the first to buy it.”

  Lexi snorted. “You should write the guidebook, lady. Think about it, you already have a readership from your blog and from your Bella Magazine articles. I can only imagine your commentary on French marriage. It would be witty, sassy, and not to mention, hilarious.”

  “I don’t know, Lex. After all of the drama I started last year with those blog posts, I don’t want to do anything else to stir the pot.”

  Lexi raised a brow. “Char, it could be so juicy. I mean, excuse my French, but this shit is crazy. And you’re living it! You can’t keep this all to yourself. I know how much you hurt Luc last year with that blog, but you also helped tons of women in the process. And you made us laugh. The guidebook on French marriage could be the more mature you, writing about marriage in France from an American woman’s perspective. I’d buy it, and I’m sure tons of other women would too. Whether we like it or not, we’re all in this crazy game together.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know. The last thing I need right now is more drama. And I will never again do anything to betray Luc.”

  “Char, I hate to burst your honeymoon bubble, but with the ex-wife back in town, things are bound to get a little hairy. You’re going to need an outlet. And while I absolutely do not think you made a mistake marrying Luc, I don’t want you to lose yourself in the marriage either. Women need to keep their independence. It’s not healthy for us to do everything for a man and nothing for ourselves. Where would that leave us?”

  “It would leave us wearing leopard-print bikinis and frolicking around old men at Florida pool parties, having no clue what in the hell we’re doing with our lives. That’s where.”

  Lexi stifled the smirk spreading across her face. “Your mom?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “I hate to say it, but she’s the perfect example. She gave up everything for your father—her identity, her passions, her career aspirations—all so he could cheat on her with a younger model and leave her high and dry thirty years later with no life of her own. I’m not saying Luc would ever do that to you, but you still need to keep your voice, Char. Keep writing. Keep your career, your goals, your dreams. Don’t ever give any of that up for a man, no matter how much you love him.”

  “Luc isn’t asking me to give any of that up for him. We had a bad experience with the blog, which was my fault, and—”

  “Hold up, lady. You were only writing the truth about your experience. Luc was taking mysterious phone calls in the middle of the night and not telling you who it was. He would disappear for months at a time. Yes, of course now we know he has his daughter, and it was all related to the custody battle. But how could you have known that?”

  “He tried to tell me, but I cut him off. I didn’t want to be in a relationship. No serious discussions. Remember?”

  Lexi waved her hand. “Details, details. The point is, the man withheld key information from you, and all you were doing was writing about your experience the way it unfolded from your perspective. You never mentioned names, so the way I see it, you did nothing wrong. And your posts were hilarious and helpful to women all over the world who are trying to survive this insane dating mess, not to mention anyone who’s ever been cheated on.”

  “Thanks, Lex. I did really love writing the posts and especially the articles for Bella Magazine. A guidebook to marrying French could be really fun to play around with…”

  “Well, promise me you’ll think about it. I’ve lost enough friends to the demands of marriage and kids. I’m happy for you and your new life, I really am. And while I think Luc is amazing, and I really believe you two are meant to be together, he still hasn’t been one hundred percent honest with you. I mean, he’s a dude, after all. And if you need an outlet in the form of a spicy, hilarious commentary on the ins and outs of French marriage, well, then I’m all for it.”

  I laughed. “Fine, I’ll think about it. But no promises.” I peeked at my watch and at our half-full bottle of wine and remembered that besides our afternoon wine binge, we still had one extremely important task to accomplish. “We need to speed it up. I have to find the perfect dress for tonight, and I can’t do it alone.”

  A conniving grin passed over Lexi’s red-lined lips as she raised her glass to mine. “I may be a mess in every other area of my life, but when it comes to finding a dress to put the evil ex in her place, I am so your woman.”

  FOUR

  With one sparkly silver stiletto in front of the other, I walked across our elegant s
uite to where Luc was standing at the mirror, buttoning his crisp gray shirt. I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed him on the neck.

  “Bonsoir, ma chérie. Let me see you.” He flipped around and took a step back, his eyes combing the length of my silky black slip dress, his gaze stopping at the low-cut neckline. “Wow. You must go shopping with Lexi more often. This dress is absolutely stunning on you. No one will ever believe me when I say you are my wife.”

  Luc ran his fingers down the thin cami-straps and over the tops of my breasts, making me wish we weren’t going anywhere tonight. His lips found that space between my neck and my collarbone that made me lose all control… and not long after, his hand slid underneath the short hem of my dress and up my thigh.

  His husky voice tickled my ear. “Tu me rends fou, Charlotte.”

  “You drive me crazy too, my sexy husband. But if you don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late.”

  “It’s a shame because seeing you in that dress just makes me want to rip it off. Right now.” Luc’s hand moved to the inside of my thigh, a little higher up this time.

  I pinched his arm. “There will be plenty of time for this later on, but we have to go. You’re the one who agreed to this lovely drink date in the first place, remember?”

  Luc sighed. “Oui, I know. It will be quick, though, like I told you. Just an hour and then you will love what I have planned for us after. Although, I don’t know if I will be able to get through the whole night with you looking like this. Seriously, Charlotte, you are incredible.”

  I smiled at my sweet husband, realizing that I had nothing to worry about. This man was head over heels in love with me, and nothing his bitchy little ex-wife could do would ever change that.

  Well, not if this dress had anything to say about it.

  Downstairs, we spotted Brigitte and Vincent seated across the chic hotel bar, already sipping on their wine.

  My heels tapped against the dark oak floor, each step making my heart constrict inside my chest. Never mind all of that ridiculous self-talk upstairs about having nothing to worry about. Just the sight of Brigitte’s profile, her high cheekbones, her endlessly long lashes, those seductive lips, made me want to pack it up and ship out.