Everyone appears shocked by my reply, especially Livingston. Then the small chuckles erupt throughout our small picnic, and the bachelors begin to tease Taylor for asking such a question in the first place.
Livingston looks at me from beneath his lashes. For once, he’s not smirking or wearing an all-knowing expression, and without it, he looks raw, almost boyish. I don’t know what to make of it. But there’s no mistaking what I see in his eyes: he’s grateful for what I said.
It’s time to wave the white flag. This picnic failed miserably.
Serene dramatically yawns and looks at the three of us. “Well, this lunch was riveting, but I’m getting tired. Is everyone ready to go?”
It’s hard to say which one of us jumps up first: Taylor or me. But the ending of this lunch date seems to be the only thing we’ll be able to agree on. It takes us record time to clean up everything, place the leftovers back in the wicker basket, and fold the blankets.
As we walk back to Belgrave, Serene walks with me, and says out of the corner of her mouth. “I do believe we missed the mark with Captain Can’t Crack a Rat.”
Regretfully, I nod.
“Was it just me or did anyone else want to punch him in the face?” she asks.
“It wasn’t just you.”
Sighing heavily, Serene pulls out a folded sheet a paper from her blouse. Has that been there the whole time? On the paper is a list of the bachelor’s names. “I guess that leaves Duncan, Beau, Conrad, Grady, Elijah, and Sean.”
“You truly have that bachelor list memorized, don’t you?” Livingston says from Serene’s right. I didn’t hear him come up on us.
“Of course,” Serene replies without taking her gaze away from the paper. “I’m the curator of said list. I know their names, occupations, dates of birth, and if it wasn’t out of line to get a vial of their blood, I would.”
“You mean, knowin’ the birth date of every bachelor isn’t out of line?” he counters.
Serene shrugs. “Not in the slightest.” She lifts her, eyes wide as saucers. “Oh, God! My notebook is in the wicker basket. Hey, Taylor! Where’s the fire? Wait for me. I need to talk to you!” Serene hollers in the most unladylike manner. If Momma was here, she would drop to a faint.
I watch her half-waddle and half-run toward a confused Taylor and several other bachelors. Once she’s halfway to him, I look at Livingston from the corner of my eye.
“This is the part I despise,” I confess.
“Truly? Because this part is my favorite.”
Swallowing, I slow my steps and look anywhere but ahead of me while Serene tells several bachelors that I will no longer be needing their company.
“I’m sure you’re pleased with how the picnic went.”
Livingston appears to mull over my question before he replies. “I am. You saw me offer the last sandwich to Serene before I ate it. I was ravished, but my manners remained intact.”
“I’m not speakin’ about the sandwich, and you know it. I’m talkin’ about Taylor.”
Livingston’s brows lift in feign surprise. “Oh, is this about his stance on passin’ gas?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t expect me to believe that you think I told him to say that, do you?”
“Why not? It’s not a far reach. You’ve done worse.”
“Yes. I’ve been plottin’ this for years,” he says dryly. “After all this time, your ultimate downfall would end up bein’ flatulence.” Livingston shakes his head. “You’re merely frustrated that the lunch didn’t go as you expected, and Taylor is one more bachelor to cross off your absurd list.”
His words make my blood simmer because he’s absolutely right. And I hate that he’s right.
“And I think we both know the closer I approach my sixty-day deadline, the more appealin’ that list begins to look.”
“I can’t wait to hear what you’ll accuse me of next. Before the picnic, I was not allowin’ you the time to get to know the bachelors, and now I’m tellin’ the bachelors what to say.”
“I won’t say anythin’ because I’ll be findin’ my perfect match amongst these bachelors to prove you wrong, Lacroix. Just you wait and see.”
Abruptly, he stops walking. “Is this all the bachelors are for? To prove me wrong?” Livingston doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he continues. “Because I must say, you’re goin’ to be sorely disappointed in the end.”
If I don’t marry one of the bachelors, Momma and I stand to lose everything. If I do marry one of the bachelors, I lose my freedom and a chance of truly finding my soulmate. It seems to me, the ending will be disheartening no matter how I look at it, but I have to make the best of it.
Livingston clears his throat so loudly I’m surprised people on The Battery don’t hear him. Arching a brow, I give him my full attention. He keeps his gaze rooted on the ground as we continue to walk. “I need to tell you thank you … for what you did with Taylor at the picnic.”
He flings his hand toward the path behind us as though that will prompt my memory. But I knew the moment he said Taylor’s name.
“Like you said before the picnic, Taylor’s a cretin,” I say, attempting to put Livingston at ease. He nods and laughs. It’s the type of laugh you give when you’re embarrassed. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Livingston truly vulnerable. Very swiftly, the protective feeling I had for him earlier returns.
“There’s nothin’ to thank. He was bein’ foolish and had no right to ask.”
“Ah, but some people think they do,” Livingston says.
“Most people haven’t experienced what you have,” I point out.
Livingston slowly nods in agreement and goes silent.
“Not all moments were terrible there,” he says suddenly.
I’m so stunned by his omission, I say nothing.
“At first, everythin’ was overwhelmin’. I couldn’t understand this was my life. But gradually …” His words fade, and he shrugs. “You make the best out of your circumstances.” Livingston looks at me from the corner of his eye and gives me a half-smirk. “Comin’ home was certainly nice. Probably one of the best moments throughout it all.”
Linking my fingers together in front of me, I faintly nod and look at him. “It was nice to see you.”
“You have that picture, le savauge?”
Shortly after his return, Nat showed me all the photos she took before she left for Brignac House. Photos of Belgrave and attempts to take pictures of Alex in the garden with her mom, Livingston, and Étienne together in his office. Étienne was unsmiling, and so was Livingston. The energy and life that typically danced in his light eyes wasn’t there though. I didn’t care much for that photo. Toward the end was the picture we took at the Army base terminal. We all stood together. I knew how I felt at that precise moment, and it made me inspect every detail of the picture. The small space separating Nat and Livingston was natural as though they’d stood for a picture beside each other.
There was no space between Livingston and me. Whether we realized it, we leaned into one another like two magnets. My hip nearly in line with his hip and my shoulder below his.