by Harper Bliss
“Jesus. Well, er, that entirely depends. There are so many factors that influence that.”
“Exactly,” Steph said. “There are always”—she curled her fingers into air quotes—“factors.”
“Getting married certainly increased our frequency,” Nadia mused. “But now that whole thing with Claire has blown up, I’m sure it will decrease again for a while. It must have brought back a few unpleasant memories for Juliette about me and Dievart.”
Margot held up a finger. “You said the D-word.”
“I did. Next round’s on me.” Nadia started looking around for a waiter.
“How about you, Margot.” Steph focused her gaze on Margot. “When you and Claire were still together. Did you tie her to the bed every night?”
How did Steph know about that? But of course she knew. The four of them—Juliette, Nadia, Claire and Steph—were so close, they knew the tiniest little detail about each other’s sex lives. Until they started sleeping with someone they weren’t supposed to. But Margot didn’t want to think that way about Claire. Especially because she had made quite a similar mistake herself. Some way or another, they all had. Nadia had slept with Dievart first. Juliette had slept with Sybille as revenge. Steph had slept with Dominique, which was illicit in its own way. And Margot, she’d slept with her ex, in that bare flat of hers just a few blocks down from where they were sitting. She’d gone over there and lost control—and so much more in the process. They were all guilty.
“I most certainly did when we first got together,” Margot said, feeling deflated as well as wanting to play Steph a little. She couldn’t keep on crying about it forever. Wasn’t that the gist of what Claire had told her yesterday?
“Because that’s how it goes when you’re newly in love.” Steph was not ready to let the subject go. “When I first met Dominique, I wanted her so badly, I risked everything. And so did she. Now… not so much anymore.”
Steph continued discussing Dominique for a while longer. She’d clearly missed being around her friends and talking to them. Which made Margot think about Claire again, who was working late tonight—“And probably most nights in the foreseeable future just to show Juliette that I’m worth forgiving, if not for my character, then at least for my work ethic,” Claire had told Margot over the phone earlier today. “I’ll be home late,” she’d said. Claire had made no mention of moving back to the Boulevard Gouvion Saint-Cyr, even though it was much closer to the Barbier & Cyr office.
Obviously now that Juliette would be back in the office, running into her in the street wasn’t even an issue anymore. Margot was in no rush to ask her when she was considering moving out. Which, in turn, made her think of what Steph had said at the beginning of the evening. Surely now, she would think of that every time she rode the bike Claire had given her.
Margot thought about Claire a lot, she realized. Much more than about any other friend. In fact, she was getting antsy and started looking at her watch, and thinking that Claire would be home soon. Perhaps she should make a move herself. She had an early day tomorrow. And watching the ten o’clock news with Claire had become a comforting habit.
STEPH
“Okay, babe,” Dominique said. “Let’s do this.” She checked her makeup in the mirror for the third time.
“Are you nervous?” Steph put her hands on Dominique’s hips.
“A little.” Dominique locked eyes with her in the reflection of the mirror, then pushed her behind into Steph’s groin. “We could stay home and use this time for or our own private therapy session.” She flashed Steph a nervous smile.
Instantly, that inkling of dread settled in the pit of Steph’s stomach again. She felt her fear of disappointing Dominique, and the knowledge that the old, carefree Steph—the one she’d felt so comfortable being—didn’t have a place in her life anymore. And the thought that she stood to lose Dominique because of all of this.
“I’m sorry,” Dominique said. “For someone who enjoys public speaking and setting a room full of middle-aged men straight about women’s rights, I’m disproportionally nervous to speak with one of my oldest friends about our sex life.”
Steph pressed a kiss to the back of Dominique’s head. “It’ll be all right.” She found Dominique’s eyes in the mirror again. “Did you ever go to see her with Philippe?”
“No,” Dominique replied. “And I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.” She shot Steph a different kind of smile now, then turned around to face her. “Je t’aime, Stéphanie,” she said. “That’s why I don’t mind confiding in Marion about certain matters. After all, this whole thing was my suggestion in the first place.”
“Come on.” Steph took her by the hand. “Let’s go or we’ll be late.”
✶ ✶ ✶
It was strange to share the Dominique-free zone, as Marion had called it the first time Steph had gone to see her, with Dominique. In fact, Dominique sat so close to Steph—as if trying to make a point to her friend—that Steph wasn’t feeling very willing to talk at all. Everybody always believed love to be so complicated, but friendship was much more of a minefield than anything.
They’d gotten the pleasantries out of the way, and Dominique had successfully convinced Marion to open a vintage bottle of red wine, and now they sat in Marion’s garden room, surrounded by the pitch-black night, talking as though this were a simple social call. But Steph had full faith in Marion. They hadn’t come here to discuss the latest polls or the dirty divorce of one of their mutual acquaintances.
It was when Dominique asked, her tone at ease and conversational, “How is your darling husband?” that Marion called her to order.
In addition to reminding Steph of what Marion had divulged about her marriage last Saturday, it also made Marion snap to attention. “Léon is fine, but we’re not here to discuss my husband, Domi.” She shot Dominique an understanding smile. “I understand this is difficult and there are some barriers to overcome.”
In true Laroche-style, Dominique waved her off. “Nonsense, Marion,” she said. Steph had rarely seen her so defensive. “We can talk about anything.”
The old Steph would have enjoyed this, and would have gotten a kick out of two fine-looking women dancing around each other like that, but the Steph sitting in Marion’s sofa derived no pleasure from Dominique’s little spectacle.
Steph put her hand on Dominique’s knee, hoping that it would make clear it was time to stand down. This was not another Dominique Laroche show. This was a much-needed appointment to rescue Steph’s sanity.
“Okay.” From Dominique’s less excited tone, Steph could deduce that her maneuver had worked—for now. “Let’s do this. My apologies.”
“Why don’t you start, Steph?” Marion asked. “Tell Dominique how you’ve been feeling.”
Here we go, Steph thought. The old her would have found this ludicrous, while the current her needed to do this so badly it scared her. Then she told Dominique all the things she’d told Marion, and how being reduced to Dominique’s partner had made her feel increasingly powerless, and out of touch with herself, and had, finally, resulted in her body’s refusal to tend to Dominique’s, and her own, wishes.
When she was done, she was torn between the agony of waiting for Dominique’s response, and the pure relief of having been able to voice her grief. Steph was not much of a talker. She wasn’t like Juliette and Claire, who liked to explain in great detail how their feelings got hurt and what they were going to do about it. Nevertheless, it felt right to sit here and do this. Steph realized she would never have been able to say what she’d just said without coming to see Marion on her own first. No matter what Dominique responded, she was already a step closer to becoming herself again.
Steph glanced at Dominique, who always had something to say about anything at all, but now sat there clearly stumped for words. She looked at her hands, as though they held the answer.
“How can we solve this?” Dominique said finally, not addressing Steph but Marion.
“It’s a bit soon to start discussing solutions,” Marion said. “Now would be a good time for you to tell Steph how you’ve been feeling lately about your relationship.”
“I’ve told her already.” Dominique had found her familiar tone of voice again. “I know this is hard on you, Stéphanie. And I also know that I don’t have enough time in my schedule to devote to what you’re going through, a fact I’m very sorry about. But I’m running for president of the republic. That was always going to take a toll.”
“Nobody’s blaming you for anything, Domi,” Marion said, her voice soft and calm. “This is not about assigning blame or apologizing or any of that. I asked you here together because I believe that sometimes a mediator can facilitate a difficult conversation. I know you both care very much about each other, and the proof of that is that you’re both sitting here.”
“That may very well be,” Dominique replied quickly. Steph recognized her TV debate voice. “But from what you just told me, Stéphanie, we find ourselves in a bit of a catch-22 situation.” Dominique looked at Steph as though Steph’s words had greatly offended her.
One of the reasons Steph had been so attracted to Dominique was because, just like her, Dominique wasn’t one to over-analyze her emotions. They’d had sex, fallen in love, and started a relationship. When you removed the entire political mess and the scandalous note from their affair, it was as straightforward as it got, until now. Steph actually understood why Dominique would feel cornered. They weren’t used to doing this. This was not a part of the dynamic of their relationship.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Marion said. Thank goodness for Marion. “This is by no means an all-or-nothing situation.”
“I know. I know.” Dominique stared at her fingers again. She was feeling out of her depth. So was Steph, for that matter. “I have a lot on my mind and I fully realize there’s no quick fix for this, which… frustrates me, I guess.” At last, Dominique looked at Steph again. “It’s all well and good wanting to stand on the barricades and change the way people think, but it comes with an awful lot of pressure. For me as well, sweetheart. In fact, I pretty much know how you feel, but I also feel fairly powerless to do anything about it.”
“Thanks for sharing that,” Marion said. “That’s completely understandable.”
“I just need to know where we stand here,” Dominique said. “Are we in more trouble than I thought?” There was a tiny tremor in her voice.
Steph believed it was her turn to speak now. She sat up a bit straighter and tried to hold Dominique’s gaze, but it wasn’t easy. This was not how she usually solved things. Steph went to Le Noir if she felt like clearing the cobwebs from her brain. She took position at the bar of Les Pêches and scanned the crowd until she found what she was looking for. She went for a drink at L’Univers where everybody knew her and she could sit silently at the bar and think about what was bugging her. But that was just the thing. Apart from the mess her friends got themselves in, before Dominique, Steph didn’t find that much bothered her. She worked hard, but had no trouble leaving work behind when she walked out the door of Barbier & Cyr. Now, her life was a complex web of responsibilities, shaking hands with people whose vision she didn’t share, dinners with Xavier Laroche, and being a sort of stepparent to Didier and Lisa.
“No. I don’t know.” Even though she had wanted to say something meaningful, Steph didn’t know what to say because Dominique’s question had hit home for her. Were they in more trouble than they both believed they were? “I just… can’t find any peace anymore. Nowhere. I have no time for it. Or I’m afraid someone will take a picture of me and put it on Facebook and it will influence your campaign negatively. It feels as though there’s no room for myself left in my life.” To her horror, Steph felt tears prick behind her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. So she quickly said, “What attracted you to me in the first place? And how far removed is that person from what I’ve become?” Steph couldn’t keep a subtle sob from creeping into her voice, but she did manage to stave off the tears.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Dominique shuffled a little closer. “This is only temporary. The campaign is almost over. We’re almost there. It’s not going to be like this forever.”
These platitudes, these non-thought-through statements got on Steph’s nerves the most. Because Steph did see her present state as never-ending—if she didn’t do something about it. And that’s what paralyzed her the most. It was in that spirit, and because she was becoming rather riled up, that she said the one thing she wasn’t supposed to say to a presidential candidate. “What if you win? Who will I be then?”
Dominique’s mouth fell open, while Steph instantly regretted her words. She knew she had committed a cardinal campaign sin. You never questioned a candidate’s ability to win—especially not because of your own precious feelings. This was not a written rule, not even an outspoken one, but one Steph had understood loud and clear from the second she had joined Dominique’s campaign.
“So, you’d prefer it if I lost?” Dominique’s shoulders had slumped and her voice was tiny. “Then I guess we are in more trouble than I thought.”
“Okay.” Marion stepped in. “This is why I’m here. To make sure this conversation has a positive outcome. Dominique.” She locked her gaze on Dominique. “I think what Steph is really saying is that she needs more space to be herself. She needs more breathing room. Which is a fair demand, I think.”
Dominique was silent. Steph looked at her from the corner of her eye and could see how the wheels were churning in her brain. She was seeking a solution. Thinking quickly to come up with the perfect soundbite. It was what Dominique Laroche excelled at—although not so much now. She remained silent for a few more seconds, until she finally spoke, “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in me. Not this late in the game. It’s simply… imperative.”
“I do believe in you,” Steph said, her voice frail. “I believe in you so much that I forget to believe in myself.”
“What do you want me to do about that, Stéphanie?” Steph could see how Dominique’s muscles tensed. “This is a stressful time for me as well, and I’m grateful that you’re there for me. More grateful than you’ll ever know. But, really, what can I possibly do?”
“Can I suggest a time-out?” Marion said. “Let’s take a breather.”
“That’s just the thing, you see, Marion. I don’t have time to take a breather,” Dominique said.
“You do here.” Marion had only raised her voice a fraction, but Steph saw Dominique react to it nonetheless. “You’ve come here to take a break from your hectic schedule and really communicate with each other. At least that was my understanding,” she said.
“Fine.” Dominique took Marion’s advice quite literally and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry.” She turned to Steph. “To answer your previous question. Yes, to me, you are still the same woman I fell in love with. But perhaps I haven’t been paying that much attention, because you clearly don’t feel like that woman anymore. And I want to apologize for that.”
“I appreciate that,” Steph said. “But instead of an apology I would much rather get permission to not have to attend every event I’m invited to. It’s too much. I need to have my own life. I’ll be by your side, and I do believe in you, I can’t repeat that enough. I love you. I turned my entire life upside down for you. I’ve given you everything I have, Dominique, and now I’ve reached my limit. I need some space. Coming here once a week has already helped me a lot. But I need more.”
“Okay.” Dominique’s features turned solemn. Steph wondered if she’d been hurt by what she’d just said. But Steph had been hurt as well by all the automatic demands Dominique had made of her, and how they had accumulated. As though one ‘yes’ had been the gateway to a million. Dominique turned to Marion, and said, “Please tell me how this is not the whole Philippe thing all over again?”
Ouch. Dominique hadn’t really hurt Steph until she had said that.
NADIA
It was one of th
e board members’ farewell party and to Nadia’s despair Margot was working tonight, while Marie Dievart was decidedly not. The one good thing about being trapped in this room with Dievart was that Leclerq, the board member she disagreed with the most—and Inez Larue’s uncle who had insisted she’d hire his niece—would no longer be a pain in her ass from now on. He was retiring, and Nadia thanked her lucky stars for that.
All she had to do was get through this social situation with Dievart, be nice to her when people were looking—and someone was always looking at Dievart—and not partake too much of the excellent wine that was being served.
It wasn’t easy because Dievart seemed to have her sights set on Nadia tonight. Nadia had sensed it from the moment Dievart had made her entrance. Heads had turned, of course—they always did when the neurosurgeon entered a room. She was a stunning woman and no amount of pure evil in her soul would ever change that.
After a brief chat with Leclerq, Dievart had come straight for Nadia, and pecked her on the cheek as though they were friends. Her lips had hovered over Nadia’s cheek and she’d produced a sultry ‘Bonsoir’, as though they were much more than colleagues.
Dievart had toured the room the same way Nadia had done, but had somehow always found her way back to Nadia to whisper something unsettling in her ear. What was she trying to do? Get her into bed again? Was she really that delusional? There she came again, carrying two fresh glasses of wine.
“I thought you might like one of these,” Dievart said.
Nadia had just deposited her empty glass on a server’s tray and hadn’t been offered a new one. As much as she didn’t want to accept a drink from Dievart, she wanted another glass of that wine more.
“Merci,” she said, and took the glass from Dievart, whereupon the neurosurgeon had the audacity to let their fingers brush against each other. It not only made Nadia flinch, but it also made her think about Steph’s question yesterday, about her and Juliette’s frequency. Nadia was appalled to realize that she and Juliette had, in fact, been drifting apart again, by no one else’s fault than Marie bloody Dievart’s. Not that she had the tiniest morsel of attraction left for Dievart. That ship had sailed long ago and, as soon as she gathered herself, she would give the neurosurgeon a piece of her mind.