“Okay. That’s awesome. Can you come on Friday? Tomorrow, we’ll be out delivering for a wedding.”
“Name the time.”
“Ten?”
“Perfect. I will bring my portfolio.”
“Fantastic. Do you need directions?”
“I will be fine.”
“See you then, Felix.”
“Thank you, Briar.”
After hanging up, I smile. Less than a day, and I have a job interview and a dinner invite from my childhood crush. I felt like the right decision was to come home, but now, I’m positive.
I’m already planning what I’m going to bake tomorrow to bring to Briar. Yes, I have a full portfolio of my best works, but nothing can sell my skills better than tasting one of my creations. Ah. I know. The mille-feuille. No one can resist my perfectly thin layers of puff pastry and delicate vanilla pastry cream. With fresh raspberries, it will be beautiful to look at it. As for what I’m wearing tomorrow night for dinner with Apollo, that is a harder choice. Do I ease him in slowly, or just be myself?
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I glance at my closet as a smile grows on my face. I promised myself when I moved home, that the one thing I would always do is be my authentic self, and only people who can handle that would have a spot in my life.
That philosophy extends to Apollo. If we’re going to be friends, then he has to accept me for who I am.
I’ll never compromise on that again.
Apollo
Pulling up in front of the home I spent much of my younger years at, brings a smile to my face. Sure, I’ve been here a few times over the years with Lucien, but the nostalgia never stops pinging. My own parents moved far away from here, opting to downsize once all the kids left, so it’s nice to visit my old haunts now and then.
After parking, I shut off the car and walk up to the front door. I’ve been wondering all day what Felix looks like now. As a teen, he was on the chubby side, as were all the Marchand siblings, but he’s the only one who never seemed to care, while Lucien tried his hardest to fight it back at the gym. I admired that about Felix. His ‘zero fucks’ attitude about things that usually caused a lot of teen angst. The only thing that bothered him was being teased about his accent.
I ring the bell, smiling when Mrs. Marchand opens the door.
“Apollo.” She pulls me into a warm embrace. She’s one of the nicest women I’ve ever met. As I stand back to greet her, a feeling of comfort settles over me. She’s still a beautiful woman, elegant with her dark hair pulled back and stylish blouse and capri pants, like an Audrey Hepburn throwback, although there are a few more crinkles around her eyes than the last time I saw her.
“Mrs. Marchand. How are you?”
She rubs my arms. “I am well. You?”
“Things are good. I’m excited to see Felix.”
Her smile grows. “He is excited as well. Would you like water or tea?”
“No, no, I’m good. We’ll eat soon. Mr. Marchand good?”
“Oh yes, very well. He’s in DC for a conference.”
“Ah.”
We both twist at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. When I see him, my smile grows. Wow. That is not what I was expecting.
Felix grins, waving as he finishes his descent. “Bonjour, Apollo. Long time, no see.”
“Felix.” I grab him as he approaches, hugging him hard. “Oh my god. You’re all grown up.”
Felix laughs. “Time does that, no?”
“Wow. Yeah. So awesome to see you.”
Felix, whose style I think could always be described as unique, is wearing a white pantsuit, with a silky, light-blue blouse under the jacket. He’s much shorter than me, I’m guessing around five-eight to my six-foot, but as I take him in, I’m pretty sure he’s wearing a heel of some kind, though the pants are long enough to cover his shoes. His light-brown hair is long, hanging in big waves a bit past his shoulders. The biggest surprise is the makeup, and not only a little gloss or mascara. It’s full makeup, the eyeshadow and mascara highlighting the green of his eyes, a sharp contrast to his light scruff and pale, slightly freckled skin. He’s dripping in numerous necklaces, big diamond stud earrings, and a wrist full of bracelets and a watch. He’s as elegant as his mother. It’s like he’s giving a big middle finger to the world’s gender norms, and I dig it.
“You look awesome.”
He seems to relax as little, releasing a whoosh of breath as he smiles. “Thank you. I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“Why would it?”
“I might get some attention.”
“I can’t imagine you wouldn’t, looking like a supermodel.”
Felix laughs. “You are kind.” His eyes take me in. “You look oddly the same, but edgier. More tattoos, certainly.”
“Kind of addicted.” I tear my eyes away to realize his mother is still standing nearby. She’s staring at her son with damn near hearts in her eyes. I’ve always loved how supportive his parents are of all their kids. “I guess we’ll get going.”
“Yes.” Felix turns to his mother, rattling off a bunch of words in French. She waves, and then we’re off. “Where are we going?” Felix asks as we head to my car.
“This really cool place near my house. They call it New American, whatever that means, but it’s basically like fancier versions of American staples.”
Felix grins. “I could use some American food.”
“I’m glad I picked it then.”
Using the key fob, I unlock the doors and slide into the driver’s seat, waiting for Felix. As he gets his belt on, my eyes drift to his feet to see the high-heeled, open-toed boots he’s wearing. Once he’s settled, he sort of bounces in his seat.
“Nice car.”
“Thanks. Are you happy to be back?”
“So happy. It feels strange though, being in my parents’ house after all this time.”
His accent is as thick as it was when I first met him. “I can imagine. I don’t think I could shack up with my parents’ again.”
“I needed a bit of time to acclimate.”
“Of course. Offer is there to show you around a bit.”
“I would love that.” He smiles again, and I swear he could light up Miami at night. He was always happy, and I’m glad to see he still is.
I put the car in gear and back out onto the street. “What was the best part about France?”
“Oh. Euh.” He hums as he taps his chin, gazing up. “There were many good things. I learned to be independent. I honed my craft and received much acclaim for my work. I think the best part was having the contrast from living in Miami to Paris so I could learn to appreciate them both in different ways.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we came to the United States, I was very sad to leave my home and my friends. It was hard for me to make friends here.”
“I remember.”
“Yes. So I wished so much to go back to Paris. I thought I would be much happier there, no?”
“But you weren’t?”
“It was a different happiness. I went back to places that as a child were my favorite, and I saw them with adult eyes. I went to new places. I embraced my French-ness, but… How do I say this?”