by Harper Bliss
Juliette found her glance, then started drinking.
Five minutes later, as they were strolling back to their building hand-in-hand, when they’d almost reached it, Nadia pushed Juliette into an alley not far from their flat.
“What are you doing?” Juliette asked with a coy smile on her lips.
“Kissing you until you forget everything else.” Nadia pushed Juliette against the wall and let her full body weight press against her wife. She didn’t waste any time in finding her lips, and letting her tongue enter. Juliette returned the kiss greedily, and that’s when Nadia realized they hadn’t been this close in weeks. They hadn’t let themselves be close, because there was always something else on the agenda. It was only a kiss, but wasn’t a kiss the most intimate gesture of all? Nadia certainly hadn’t let Dievart kiss her, and she was secretly proud of that, even though any sense of pride—no matter how small—should not be connected to anything to do with Marie Dievart.
“Okay, I’ve forgotten,” Juliette said when they ended their impromptu al fresco lip-lock. “I’ve forgotten everything.”
“Good,” Nadia said, and kissed her again.
MARGOT
Despite the small mercy of not seeing Dievart once at Saint-Vincent during her weekend shift, Margot was dead tired on Sunday evening. It was late, and Claire would most likely be asleep by the time she got home. It was a funny thought to have. Claire sleeping in her guest room. Margot tip-toeing around her own flat so as not to wake her. How she always, inadvertently, stopped outside Claire’s bedroom door, but could never really hear anything through it. Yet, she always hoped that Claire would call for her, to tell her she was still awake, and they would have a quick midnight chat.
When she arrived home last night, after another long day at the hospital, Claire had left her a note saying she’d had a great chat with Juliette, but was so exhausted she’d gone to bed at ten. Margot hadn’t seen her this morning either. Claire hadn’t left a note to say where she was going. First, Margot had waited, hoping she’d gone to buy croissants from the bakery on the corner, but when Claire still hadn’t returned an hour later, Margot had gone for another exhausting session at the gym.
Now, though, as she reached her building completely drained physically from her weekend shift, and parked her brand new bike in the spot where she used to park the bike she wrecked, it was as if her mind had broken through the fog of fatigue and allowed her a brief moment of clarity. Margot knew what to do. It would be great if Claire was still awake for it, but if she was already asleep, she’d leave her a note.
Butterflies fluttered in Margot’s stomach as she unlocked the front door. The TV was still playing, so Claire must still be up. The butterflies started dancing with more pronounced movements. When Margot reached the living room, she found Claire gently snoring in the sofa. Margot hadn’t seen Claire sleep in such a long time. It used to be such a small but gratifying pleasure to witness Claire like that, totally relaxed and oblivious to the world.
Margot switched off the TV and must have made a noise she wasn’t aware of—she’d been very careful to be as quiet as possible—because Claire, in a sleep-drenched voice, suddenly said, “Hey.”
“Sorry for waking you,” Margot said.
“That’s okay. You have excellent taste in furniture, but I wasn’t planning on spending the night in your sofa. My back is too old for that.” Claire sat up and ruffled a hand through her hair. It only made it look more shaggy. “I was waiting up for you, anyway.”
You were? Margot wanted to ask. But she had another, more pertinent question on her mind. “I’m glad you did.” Margot sat down on the coffee table and faced Claire. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure.” Claire tried to wipe a stubborn bang from her forehead but failed.
“Would you, um, want to go on a date with me?” For someone who had performed three critical surgeries today, Margot had a surprising amount of adrenalin left in her bloodstream.
Claire broke out into a smile. “I would love that.” She followed up with a giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Margot asked.
“Just great minds think alike, that’s all. Jules was on my case about asking you out yesterday. In fact, she was emotionally blackmailing me to ask you out as soon as possible.” Claire sat up a bit straighter. At least she was wearing pants tonight. “But then we missed each other all weekend and I didn’t get a chance to.”
“Yeah… where were you this morning?” It really wasn’t any of Margot’s business, but they were flatmates now, so Margot could indulge in satisfying her curiosity.
“I was making inquiries about something. But I can’t tell you what it is. It’s a surprise for Jules.” Claire’s cheeks dimpled with delight.
“Last time I checked, I was still Margot de Hay and not Juliette. You know I can keep a secret.”
“I know you can, but… I don’t know. I just really want it to be a surprise for Jules. I don’t want everyone else knowing before she does. That would take away so much of the fun.”
“Sure. I’m good with that, Claire. I’m just glad to see you this excited.” It made a nice change from the Claire who’d arrived here with her head hanging low more than two weeks ago. “I take it your conversation with Juliette went well yesterday.”
“Much better than expected.” Claire sighed contentedly.
“I’m really glad for you.”
“So… where were you thinking about taking me on that date?” Claire’s cheeks dimpled even more.
“Anywhere but the Eiffel Tower,” Margot said. “It’s time for us to have a new favorite romantic spot.”
“Aha, so this is going to be romantic, then?” Claire looked a lot less sleepy than when Margot had first walked in.
“Why bother going on a date if it’s not going to be romantic?” Margot had to resist the urge to kiss her. As though simply asking the question had already erased some of her fear.
“True. And this time around, you get to pick the place,” Claire said. “I seem to be terrible at that.”
“Deal.” Margot didn’t want to end up at a stuffy restaurant again. Although the restaurant hadn’t been the problem at their last, disastrous date more than six months ago. But that was all behind them now. “When are you free?”
“I’m free tomorrow evening,” Claire said with an eagerness that made Margot’s heart sing.
“Monday evening, huh? Is that a suitable date night?” Margot teased.
“Of course it is. What’s wrong with Mondays? Mondays are awesome for dates.”
“Tomorrow it is then. I can pick you up after work with my brand new machine.”
“Nothing would thrill me more, Doctor de Hay. I’ll wear long pants.”
“Just like there’s nothing wrong with Monday as date night, there’s nothing wrong with a hiked-up skirt on the back of a motorcycle.” If this was the pre-date level of flirting, they were in for a treat tomorrow.
“Okay. Your wish is my command,” Claire said and looked Margot in the eyes. Margot would have to remember the promise she had made to herself when deciding to ask Claire out. They would have to take it slow. They’d said it from the very beginning of their affair, and they’d never managed to resist. But this time around, for what was—truly—their very last shot at this, they would do things by the book. Margot was adamant that nothing would happen on their first date. They would talk, and flirt, maybe kiss—but that was where she would draw the line.
“Good,” Margot said, and the way the word rolled off her tongue, with slightly more force than she’d wanted to, made her realize it was going to be a huge undertaking to resist Claire until their second date. If they made it to a second date. Margot didn’t want to ignore the fear she’d felt only yesterday. The fear of repeating their old mistakes, and rushing, and putting something as beautiful as their budding friendship on the line for a night of passion.
“Best get to bed then,” Claire said. “I’ll need to look my best tomorrow.”
/>
“Off you go,” Margot said. “I’m going to watch some TV to unwind.”
“Oh…” Claire had already risen from the sofa. “I can stay up a little longer. Watch a repeat of the news with you.” Claire towered over her. “Go to bed,” she said. Not only because she wanted Claire to be well-rested for the work week, but because Margot needed a bit of time to herself to release the tension from her body. She needed to clear her head. Prepare for this date. She’d go to the gym before picking Claire up tomorrow. She had failed enough, and she was done failing. They would have the perfect date.
“Yes, boss,” Claire said, and shot Margot a wink before she headed to the guest room.
CLAIRE
As soon as Nadia had given Claire the go-ahead to procure the present she’d been planning for Juliette, Claire had wanted to make it happen. But then Margot had asked her out and Claire couldn’t possibly imagine accepting the offer of going on a date with Margot and having to wait until Tuesday to actually go. It was out of the question. Juliette would get her present the day after. Though Claire couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she did.
Now, she stood staring at her reflection in the Barbier & Cyr ladies’ room, putting her hair in place and re-applying mascara. Margot would be here soon. She’d arrive on the bike Claire had given her to sweep her off her feet and it couldn’t be more perfect.
“You don’t really deserve her,” Claire whispered to her reflection in the mirror, but really, who was keeping tabs? Claire wanted to go on this date so badly, wanted to relive their early days of cautious flirtation so much. She kept checking her watch. Margot had texted that she would pick her up at seven. It was half past six. Claire wasn’t going to spend the remaining half hour getting more and more nervous as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She would go say goodbye to Juliette. Just because she could do that again now. She was allowed to knock on Juliette’s door and talk to her again about non-work-related subjects. Like this date.
Claire exited the bathroom and ran into Steph. “Hey stranger,” she said. “Are you ready to become France’s first lady or what?”
“What?” Steph said. “No. I mean, yes. I don’t know.” She looked flustered.
“What’s up?” Claire asked.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” Steph said.
“Come chat with me when you’re done,” Claire said.
“Why?” Steph asked.
“Do you need a reason?” This conversation was becoming very weird very quickly.
“No. Look, I’m sorry. I should probably have taken this week off, or worked from home or something. I don’t even know where my head is right now. Can you check please, boss? Is it still here?” Steph rapped a knuckle against her skull. “But, you know, I need my independence and all that. I need to come into work to prove a point.”
“Come on.” Claire took Steph by the hand. “We’re having a chat now.”
“But I need to pee,” Steph said.
“This won’t take long.” Rather amused, Claire realized that she was about to give Steph a speech. She was on fire these days. Though what right did she have to try and inspire her friends? But she was the only one who was seeing things clearly after emerging from her self-destructive affair with Dievart. And sometimes people just needed to be told. “Let’s go into my office.”
They both sat down and Claire looked her friend in the eyes. “Take the week off. It might very well be the most defining week of your life. Don’t spend it here, when your mind and heart are with Dominique.”
Steph shook her head. “You don’t know what’s going on between us, Claire. I’ve made such a fuss about coming into work. Dominique asked me to take a leave of absence weeks ago and I took it as a major insult.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Claire touched her hand to Steph’s arm. “None of it matters. Your partner is going to become president of this country, Steph.”
“I just don’t want to give the wrong signal. I’m not going to give up my job. I can’t do that.”
Jesus. Steph was in far worse a state than Claire had expected. “Here’s what I suggest you do. Don’t think about any of that. Just focus on the here and now. Focus on this glorious week you and Dominique are going to have. Focus on what you’ve accomplished together. Focus on how you’ll feel on Sunday when she gives Goffin a clear signal in the first round. Hell, she may even beat him already. Don’t think about Barbier & Cyr. You will always have a future here, no matter what happens. But this week? You will never have a week like that ever again in your life. It might be stressful, but it’s also exhilarating and special. You need to enjoy it, Steph. That’s an order.”
“Are you really giving me orders?” A small smile broke on Steph’s face.
“I am. But not as your boss. As your friend. You’ve kept this place together more than once. Jules and I will always owe you. Go be with Dominique.”
Steph sighed. “Dominique and I… we’re going through a few things right now.”
“Then fix them. It can be as simple as that, Steph. Just fix them. Be with her and fix them.”
“I’ve been an ass.” Steph let the back of her head fall on her shoulders. “I haven’t been there for her the way—”
“Stop.” Claire held up her hand. “Stop admonishing yourself. Go to her now and be there for her now.”
“My life used to be so uncomplicated. I used to be so uncomplicated,” Steph said.
“You are still you, Steph. And this country is going to have the coolest first lady it has ever seen.”
Steph shook her head again. “I just can’t wrap my head around that, you know?”
“I can imagine.” Claire wondered if they’d all be invited for tea at the Elysée. Then, she couldn’t stop herself from checking her watch.
“Do you need to be somewhere?” Steph asked.
Claire bit her bottom lip, then said, “Margot’s picking me up. We’re going on a date.”
“Hallelujah!” Steph threw her hands in the air. “At fucking last!”
“Don’t go jumping to conclusions,” Claire said.
“I don’t need to jump to anything, Claire. I’ve been at the place where conclusions are drawn for a long time already.”
“She’s probably waiting for me outside.”
“Go!” Steph said.
“You go, too,” Claire said. “And don’t come back this week.”
“Thanks, boss.” Steph rose. “And please keep in mind that once I’m first lady I can’t possibly be expected to call you boss anymore.” She grinned at Claire, then exited her office.
Claire smoothed her skirt and took a deep breath. She was ready for her date.
✶ ✶ ✶
“Montmartre? Really?” Claire said after she’d climbed off Margot’s bike.
“It’s a different place on Monday evening,” Margot said, her voice determined. “Nobody comes here on a Monday.” She secured their helmets and locked her motorcycle. She looked good enough to eat in those jeans and that t-shirt. “And I know just the spot.”
“You’re not on call tonight, are you?” Claire asked. She had to resist the urge to take Margot’s hand. “And you checked up on your parents?”
“It will be just you and me and the most divine non-touristy food you can imagine tonight,” Margot said. They walked side-by-side and their hands brushed together accidentally. Claire thought about what Steph had said earlier. Had she really been that blind? No, just careful. Her relationship with Margot could only be approached with the greatest care.
Claire hooked her arm through Margot’s and she could swear Margot flexed her biceps as she did. This date wasn’t a matter of them deciding to give it another go. It was just a matter of delaying the inevitable.
“Hm,” Claire said as they reached the restaurant. It wasn’t the tiny, cozy place she had expected.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Margot said. “I’ve been coming here for years.”
“You’re not
the only one,” Claire said, pointing out the tourist guide stickers on the window. She was just teasing Margot.
“Reserve your judgement until later.” Margot stepped inside and Claire followed on her heels.
“Ah, Madame docteur,” a shaggily dressed man said, greeting Margot. “How’s the leg?”
“Perfect,” Margot replied, and flashed him a big smile.
“This way, please.” The man led them to a table by the window with a pretty awesome view of the Sacré-Coeur.
“It’s rather… rustic,” Claire said, after they’d sat down and studied the menus.
“What did I say?” Margot admonished her. “I can order for you if you like. I’ve tried about everything here.”
Claire put down her menu. “Okay.” She couldn’t help but smile stupidly whenever she looked at Margot, which was all of the time. “Surprise me.”
“Very well.” Margot called over the waiter, who she knew by name, and ordered their food and a half bottle of wine for Claire.
“You’re really never drinking again?” Claire asked.
“I might on a special occasion. Like New Year’s Eve, or when Dominique wins the election. But tonight, I’m driving you home.”
“Home…” Claire said suggestively. “Is that yours or mine?”
“You tell me.” Margot’s eyes sparkled.
“Tonight, it will be yours.” Perhaps the real question should have been: ‘Your bedroom or mine?’
The waiter brought over the wine and a variety of sliced saucisson. As delicious as it looked, Claire wasn’t that hungry because her stomach was occupied by a growing colony of butterflies.
“So on Sunday you’ll have a glass of champagne with me?” Claire asked.
Margot chuckled. “We’ll see. But it’s only the first round this Sunday.” Margot then cocked her head. “I know it’s bad practice to discuss politics over the dinner table, but, er, you always struck me as more left-wing, Claire.”