Grand-mère Marie complained about every girl she’d ever seen me with. Cecilia and I had fit well enough, and we’d never fought, even when I failed her.
I don’t remember if she ever said anything to Blake, though, when he’d been alive. I hadn’t even thought about it until now. “She’s overprotective of me. They all are after what happened with Blake.”
These phone conversations sparked more memories. My brother had acted like Simon was his brother, and I’d cried that I’d wanted to come that fateful day.
Calliope said, “I never should have gone with the boys. I spent years blaming myself.”
The last thing I needed was a day of crying. They’d been in the boat with my brother, but I was the one who hadn’t put the life vest back. I’d been protected when I shouldn’t have been. Years of being denied to leave the vineyard flew at me as a result of that day.
“My brother liked you. I remember that, and he’d not want you to be upset.”
“You were always a good kid.” She paused, and I imagined a soft smile curling her lips. “So, what kind of girl should I hope to find for you?”
I laughed. The last thing I needed was random women brought over to the table like I was some prize. No one wanted a broken doctor as a forever.
And I had no future to offer anyone.
Not even to Kara. Luckily, Kara would return to America and wasn’t interested in more than the now, so this respite with her was temporary. I tore my shirt off and decided not to wear another as I said, “I’m bringing my new girlfriend with me.”
Hopefully, she’ll agree. I hadn’t asked, but Kara responded like she’d wanted me. I sprayed my cologne as Calliope asked, “New?”
“One my grand-mère has not met.”
If she said no, I’d say we broke up. At least I didn’t have to explain bang-able curves over the phone.
“What’s she like?” Calliope asked.
“Nothing like my grand-mère disapproved exes.”
The truth flew out of my mouth. I’d never desired a woman so instantly as much as Kara.
Calliope said, “Different is good. I look forward to meeting her. Simon wants to talk again.”
“Okay.” I glanced at the adjoining door. This delay was taking longer than expected. I tossed the cologne back in my bag and folded my clothes.
Simon popped in my ear. “Look, I’m not pushing, but giving up on being a doctor because of a mistake only lets that one moment destroy what you love to do.”
I grabbed my toothbrush. “I’m okay. When Blake died, my father lost the son he groomed to follow in his footsteps. So, it all worked out in the end.”
“Fulfilling other people’s hopes instead of your own never works out in the end.”
Score one for Simon. Who the fuck knew he’d turn out wise? As a boy I’d seen him counting the farts of his classmates on a calendar.
“Maybe, but most people don’t have my cushion. My life will be okay.”
“You’ll have to look me in the eye for that one. I spent too many years training to be a doctor to ever give up on this dream now. And I don’t think my wife would let me.”
Years of medical school and residency in the ER had been taxing but rewarding. I’d gone into private practice for sane hours, but that clearly had been wise. It was easier to quit when I lost feelings entirely. “Sounds like you settled into a responsible man now.”
“Funny, kid, still. Look, I hope this new girl you have is the good kind. A good woman makes life worth living.”
Simon was a different person now. He was smart and responsible. The boy I remembered never took anything seriously, ever.
All I could say now was, “Life passes you by whether you’re married or not, but I will see you tomorrow.”
“Take care. I’ll set up a lunch,” Simon said as a goodbye.
Good. I brought my toothbrush to the bathroom. “We’ll be there.”
Then I headed in and cleaned myself up fast. Kara had waited too long, and my wanker—as she named my cock—throbbed to enter her.
I washed the bin and my brush, leaving it for the morning, and headed to the adjoining door. My phone vibrated again, and I picked it up, half expecting the conversation to continue with Simon or Calliope. Instead, it was Cecilia’s sister, Desiree as she texted, You left a few things.
One day we might meet on the streets, and it was better to be cool and not let her know how Cecilia’s death cemented my indefinite bachelorhood. I texted back, Keep it all, Desiree.
Three dots appeared, and I knew one thing about Desiree. When she wanted to do something, she followed through. She’d call my parents next if I didn’t answer as she wanted. Finally, her words appeared on my screen, Quentin, you didn’t need to leave Paris forever. I want to send your things and not let my sister’s ghost haunt me for years.
Her tears and screams about Cecilia echoed in my ears. Nothing she’d said had made me feel better. I’d killed Cecilia, without help. It was like I relived Blake’s death as an adult, and I froze.
My hands trembled a little, and I typed fast, No problem. Send whatever you think I should have to my parents.
More dots. I glanced at the door and wished I was with Kara already. The night was taking too long, but then Desiree’s words popped up, Thank you for making this easy.
No problem. I have to go. Then I turned my phone off.
No more interruptions. I’d failed as a fiancé; I’d failed at being a doctor, but I’d not fail Kara and her needs. In fact, I’d ensure she experienced bliss. This was the only mission I could accept now.
Chapter 7
Kara
I checked myself in the mirror and patted on an extra layer of makeup.
My heart pounded.
I checked my drab clothes and my phone in my back pocket in case I needed to call for advice on what to do.
I looked… plain. I’d chosen this outfit for the train ride as I sought comfort and hadn’t planned on Quentin. Or wine. Or giving myself to a man I’d known for a day.
I was so out of character, and I didn’t care. Maybe the clothes were why I was here, alone. I unbuttoned my shirt he’d had his hand half up earlier today and unzipped my bag to find my black heels.
As I slipped them on, I took a moment to close my eyes and breathe. I opened the window, and I heard everything he said next door immediately as his words were clear, “I’ll be in Monte Carlo tomorrow. We can talk then.”
I backed up as I hadn’t meant to listen, but then another man said, “Yes, I’ll talk some sense into you. You can’t just give up like this.”
Give up? What was Quentin abandoning? My skin was jittery that this was about his ex when he said, “Starting over is not a bad thing.”
Starting over? Because his relationship ended? He hadn’t seemed upset over his relationship ending, but I hadn’t asked for details. I reached to close the windows, but then his friend said, “It is when you’re destroying your passion.”
My wanker had nothing but passion, except when he was rather brooding and silent. Part of me wanted to help, though that was silly. We hardly knew each other.
And then he said, “I’ll get over it.”