French Kissing: Season Three

by Harper Bliss

  “So what’s with the puppy?” Steph asked, snapping Nadia out of her reverie.

  “The best peace offering ever,” Nadia said and, even though it sounded a bit ridiculous and simplistic, it was the truth. “Jules has fallen in love with that dog. You should see her with him.”

  “And that makes everything better?” Steph asked.

  “Well, not everything. But they seem to be well on the way to being friends again.” Nadia cast a glance to Juliette and Claire who stood chatting with Margot a few feet from them. Were they telling Margot about Sybille’s email? Surely Margot would urge them to tell Steph—she was that kind of all-out-in-the-open person. Or perhaps she had changed as well. “Could you even have imagined them falling out forever?” Nadia shook her head. “They need each other.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Nadz.” Steph shuffled her weight around a bit and inched a bit closer. “But how is Jules really doing? You know, with the baby thing and all?”

  “She seems all right.” Nadia glanced at Juliette again. She could never keep her eyes off her wife for too long. Juliette was the kind of person who drew attention to herself in any room—especially in a room full of MLR members. “I think deep down she knew it would never really be in the cards for her.” Juliette was explaining something to Claire gesturing wildly with her hands. Margot seemed to be listening but didn’t appear to be very much involved in the conversation. Juliette and Claire could do that to someone when they were on a roll. They could disappear in this private world they’d created between themselves over the years through their friendship, and they could go on like that for a good long while before they realized other people existed outside of their own two-person universe. Nadia had never minded. Juliette and Claire were an inseparable package. Claire had finished Juliette’s sentences long before Nadia was in the picture. “But Juliette sometimes just really needs to sabotage herself and the only way to snap her out of it—sadly—is by letting her walk into a wall face first.”

  “I’ll drop off Lisa and Didier any time she likes,” Steph said.

  Nadia chuckled. “Do you have any idea how strange it is to hear these words coming from your mouth?”

  “I can well imagine.” Steph gave a giggle as well.

  “Oh Christ, I think Leclerq has clocked me. I’d better warn Margot.” Leclerq was making his way over to them with his hand raised. “This should be fun,” she said.

  MARGOT

  Was that Inez’s uncle heading in her direction? Margot’s heart started hammering away in her chest. Would she never be totally free of the ghost of Inez Larue?

  “Brace yourself,” Nadia, who had come to stand beside her, said. “Over the years, that man has given me such a hard time in board meetings, I’m about to get my own back.”

  Margot stared at Nadia in disbelief. “Please, Nadz, be polite. Let’s just get rid of him as quickly as possible,” Margot whispered. “This day is already stressful enough.” Claire had just told Margot about Sybille and Steph and Le Noir, and Margot was still recovering from the shock of finding out a place like that even existed. She had also urged Juliette and Claire to tell Steph because no matter how inconvenient the news, she had the right to know.

  “Margot,” Leclerq greeted her, then eyed Nadia. “And Mademoiselle Abadi.” He reached out his hand.

  “It has been Madame Abadi for a few months now,” Nadia said in an overly friendly tone and shook his hand.

  Margot had been with Inez long enough to be introduced to her extended family and she’d been invited to parties that both her and Inez’ uncle attended more often than she’d wanted to. She hadn’t heard from Inez since that moment they’d said goodbye in the locker room of Saint-Vincent, right about the time when Margot’s life had fallen to pieces. Coming face-to-face with him was a brusque reminder of all the mistakes Margot had made.

  “How are you, Margot?” Leclerq inquired. “Have you recovered well?”

  Leclerq had still been on the board when Margot had had her accident, so he knew about Margot’s level of intoxication. Had he told his niece? Did it matter?

  “I’m doing very well, thank you,” Margot said.

  “Glad to hear it, my dear.” Leclerq fixed his watery stare on her. “Inez is working in Canada now, in case you were wondering. Let’s hope she sticks around there for a while.” He croaked out a little laugh, then, apparently gave his niece and Margot no further thought, and focussed his attention on Nadia. “How’s Saint-Vincent’s new asset working out? Dr. Dievart was such a catch for us, don’t you think, Madame Abadi?”

  “Oh yes, Monsieur Leclerq,” Nadia said. “She’s a real superstar. Everybody loves her.” Nadia kept a polite but slightly disdainful grin on her face.

  “I take it you are friends of Mademoiselle Mathis?” Leclerq asked, his voice sincere enough.

  “We are her best friends,” Nadia replied, fixing Leclerq with a bold stare.

  “That’s quite something.” He sounded genuine. He’d never struck Margot as homophobic. She’d never got a negative vibe off him, and he was fond enough of his niece to arrange a job for her at Saint-Vincent after her return from India. He was just one of many French citizens who didn’t particularly care who shared whose bed. Perhaps it had taken him some time to adjust to the idea of his niece being a lesbian, but he’d soon accepted it and never questioned it again. In fact, and mostly because of his elderly age, he reminded Margot of her own parents. They had greeted Steph graciously when she’d come to visit Margot during her convalescence, and even congratulated her on her public coming out.

  “Give my best to Inez,” Margot said. “When you hear from her.”

  “I’ll do that, my dear.” Leclerq nodded. “I’ll best get on then. The tension is rising. Not long till we get the official results now.” He bowed his head in a rather reverent display of bidding adieu to them, and turned around.

  “I never liked that man,” Nadia said.

  “He’s not that bad,” Margot said, and she meant it. The country was made up of people like Leclerq and her parents and Nadia’s parents. All from different backgrounds, but not less accepting of others than they conceived themselves to be.

  “Who do you think Bertrand and François voted for today?” Juliette joined them. “Last time I saw my father he as good as took a vow to vote for Dominique, but I had trouble believing him.”

  “You’ll never know, Jules,” Nadia said, and drew her wife near.

  Margot searched for Claire, who was approaching, while someone on the stage tapped a microphone. Margot curved her arm around Claire’s waist and considered how unbelievably amazing it would be if Dominique were already pronounced the winner today, while all of them stood here together.

  “Mesdames et Messieurs,” someone said into the microphone. Margot craned her neck to see who was talking and saw Xavier Laroche on the stage. “We will be switching on the television now so you can all follow along as the results come in.” Someone brought over a remote control and in a manner so theatrical Margot didn’t even think it was possible, Laroche pointed it somewhere at the darkness at the back of the stage and a giant screen flickered to life. On it, a female and a male presenter were chatting away in an excited fashion.

  “Who would have thought this would be so exciting?” Claire whispered in Margot’s ear.

  But a lot more was on the line here. If Dominique failed to crush the Socialists in the first round, she’d have another shot next week, but what would Steph have, except for her name dragged through the mud again and her dignity destroyed?

  “We need to tell her,” Margot said. “She needs to know.”

  Claire shook her head. “No, babe. We need to give her this moment—”

  “But what if Dominique doesn’t win?” Margot couldn’t keep the tension out of her voice.

  “Then there will be plenty of time to inform her.” Claire held her a bit closer. Then the crowd started to roar.

  “We have the first exit polls coming in from th
e Paris district,” the female TV presenter said. A few people whistled. The energy in the room transformed into one of supreme anticipation. Margot was used to dealing with extremely stressful situations, but an agitated crowd like this one, was something else entirely. “Dominique Laroche of the MLR takes fifty-seven percent of the votes.” On the screen, a blue bar rose to tower high above the red and brown ones of the Socialists and the ANF.

  The crowd went wild. Fist were pumped into the air and high fives were exchanged. Where was Dominique? Margot wondered. Then the male presenter announced more results and the cheers of the crowd drowned out most of Margot’s thoughts and she let herself be carried away by the excitement as well.

  STEPH

  Steph made her way from the back of the room where her friends had gathered after surprising her by turning up. She had her eye on Dominique who was surrounded by the MLR leadership. Behind her, the crowd was going wilder and wilder after every exit poll announcement, and the spirit of victory was already piercing the air. There had been nine exit poll announcements already and seven of those had gone in Dominique’s favor. Steph couldn’t bear to be away from her for a second longer.

  “There you are,” Dominique said when she caught sight of Steph. She grabbed her hand and pulled her close. “Stay here with me.”

  Steph flashed her a big smile that, she hoped, hid her nerves. “You got it.”

  “Only a few more minutes to go before the official result.” Dominique squeezed her hand tightly.

  “No time for a quickie behind the curtains then?” Steph whispered in her ear. “You know, to take the edge off.”

  Dominique broke out in a chuckle. “Not unless you want my father to, inevitably, come looking for me and walk in on us.”

  “Imagine, though,” Steph continued, “that, just as they announce you as the winner, I’m fucking you?” She kissed Dominique just above her ear.

  “As tempting as that sounds, babe, I think some people may have a heart attack.” Dominique looked Steph in the eyes. “But I appreciate the offer and I will take a rain check.”

  “I should probably officially move in with you after this. I can’t let you live in that big palace on your own.”

  “You probably should.” Ignoring everyone around her, Dominique put her arms around Steph’s neck. “Thank you for taking a chance on me.” She kissed Steph fully on the lips.

  “I knew from the very beginning you had the presidency in you.” Steph hugged Dominique a little tighter. Then the crowd started roaring again.

  “It looks like this may very well be a first round victory for Laroche,” the presenter said.

  Steph’s stomach fluttered with excitement. Would this have happened if she’d never met Dominique? If she had chosen another PR agency to work with? Steph would never know, but she did know one thing very clearly. She and Dominique being a couple and Dominique winning would change France forever. Nothing would ever be the same again. If Steph had to give up five years of privacy—and possibly ten—then she would.

  “What do you think?” the male presenter asked a studio guest. “Will we be able to proclaim Dominique Laroche as the clear winner of the 2015 presidential election tonight?”

  “We won’t know until the official announcement at eight o’clock,” the other man said. “But if the exit polls are really accurate, we very well may have a new president tonight.”

  “Some additional exit polls have just come in,” the female presenter said.

  “Let’s have them.” The TV presenters seemed to be getting slightly beside themselves with excitement as well.

  “If she takes this in the first round,” the studio guest, an expert in French politics, said, “she will make history.”

  “These ones seems to be going to Goffin,” the female presenter said as the numbers appeared on the screen, increasing the red bar significantly and the blue bar only a tad.

  “Someone’s keeping it interesting,” the male presenter said.

  The political expert slanted his head and narrowed his eyes, “It’s just a matter of time, folks. Just a few more minutes till we get the official call. Laroche needs fifty percent of the vote to call this a landslide.”

  The people on TV kept jabbering on. The tension in the room rose to almost unbearable heights. There’s always the second round, Steph kept repeating in her head. But, by now, expectations had risen so high that Dominique not pulverizing Goffin in the first round, would be seen as a small defeat. Historically, the mud-slinging between the first and the second round always reached new depths of indecency, and Steph could do without that. Everyone could do without that.

  Xavier was talking to Dominique, putting a hand on her shoulder, but Steph chose to tune out what he was saying. Never in her life had she been more nervous. And to think that, in her darkest times, she’d wanted Dominique to lose. While now the prospect of losing loomed unbearably above her. Because, surely, if Dominique lost, the country and the party would blame Steph. How could they not?

  A loud “Ssshhh” traveled through the crowd.

  “We’re here.” Nadia squeezed Steph’s bicep. “We’re all here,” she said. All four of them had made their way to the front to be with Steph. No matter what happened, Steph would always have her friends. With Nadia’s hand on her shoulder and Dominique’s hand tightly held in hers, Steph cut her eyes at the big screen.

  “We have the official results,” the male presenter said. Dominique Laroche clearly seems to be the winner of this first round. Let’s not make any mistake about that. But these official numbers will tell us if we’re going to a second round or not,”

  “Yes, yes, we know all that,” Xavier Laroche shouted at the screen. Eléonore had materialized and stood between her husband and her daughter. Steph saw how she took Dominque’s free hand in hers.

  “Wow,” the female presenter said. “It looks like…” she paused.

  The crowd held its breath. For a brief moment, you could hear a pin drop. Even on the television everyone was quiet as the pictures of all the candidates appeared and the percentage bars next to them counted up.

  “Fifty-three,” the woman on TV said. “Laroche has taken fifty-three percent of the vote and is elected president in the first round,” she almost yelled into the camera.

  “She demolished Goffin,” the expert said. Then anything anyone on the television said was obliterated by the cheer of the crowd.

  Steph felt a primal scream rise up from her gut to her throat as she released all the tension from her body. “Yes,” she howled and, not caring one bit who she pissed off in the process, pulled Dominique to her. Dominique’s face was wet with tears, but her ever-radiant smile shone through. “You did it,” Steph said, then kissed her.

  “I love you,” Dominique said as she wiped away most of the tears.

  “You need to get on the stage now,” Xavier said, his loud voice effortlessly breaking through the on-going cheers.

  “Give her a minute, Xav,” Eléonore said, before hugging her daughter.

  While Dominique made her way onto the stage, Eléonore turned to Steph and said, “Well done. I know it’s not always easy being with a Laroche, but they’ll never fail to make us proud.”

  Steph’s back was being slapped by several hands at once. She gave a thumbs-up to Eléonore and, as she turned to the stage, she allowed herself to drink in this moment of pure happiness. They’d done it. Dominique would be the next president of France. Life could not have turned out any more unexpectedly for Steph, but here she stood, ready to be hugged to death by her friends, while listening to Dominique’s victory speech. If ever there had been a more perfect moment in Steph’s life, it had been erased promptly by this one.

  THE END

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Reader,

  If you’ve made it to this author’s note, you’ve been on a hell of a ride with me. I can only hope you enjoyed reading about my ladies’ dramatic adventures as much as I enjoyed putting them through their paces. The f
irst episode of French Kissing was published in February 2014 (two years ago as of this writing) and every single word I wrote in this series since then has been an absolute pleasure. I’ve always been a fan of slightly over-the-top lesbian drama, though I have done my best to make my characters relatable, flaws and all. (I know they all have many flaws, but don’t we all?)

  I’m now ready to close the French Kissing chapter, though not without a little pain in my heart. I will miss Juliette, Nadia, Claire, Margot, Steph, Dominique and even Marie Dievart a lot in the months to come. However, I do think their story needed to end here (because I honestly believe they can’t take much more!)

  Thank you for going on this crazy journey with me. And think of the the ladies whenever you see a picture of the Eiffel Tower or (if you’re lucky!) visit Paris. The city has been a tremendous inspiration to me while writing this series. Though, it needs to be said, I have been very surprised by the emails I’ve received from French readers stating that my characters drink much more alcohol than real French people. My research states otherwise.

  Merci beaucoup,

  Harper

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR