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Elodie giggles, turning her head to press her face into Olivier’s arm.
The other man, who is more rotund with world-weary eyes, a waxed mustache, and a white pocket square sighs and says, “I apologize for my daughter.”
“Are we sure your daughter was the one who did this?” The elder Mr. Arnaud asks.
Elodie gasps. “Of course it was me!”
Lafayette sighs heavily. “Of course it was.”
Arnaud looks doubtful. “You look ridiculous,” he says to Olivier, and I bristle. But what’s worse is Olivier’s soft response I can’t hear, but am able, from where I’m standing, to read on his lips. “I’m sorry, Dad. I just got carried away. Too much champagne.”
“As usual.” Mr. Arnaud’s nostrils flare as he seems to come to a decision. “Your presence is no longer required. Leave before anyone sees the state of you. We’ll be in touch with next steps.”
Olivier looks truly devastated, but he tries to hide it with a clenched jaw. “Can I say ’bye to Mom?” His voice is unsteady like he’s repressing some strong emotion.
Rage is what I’m personally feeling, but I don’t know these people, nor is his family situation something he and I have talked much about. All I know is he’s been unhappy with his parents ever since they forced him into an arranged marriage, understandably. But he’s playing his part.
What argument could they have with him now?
“Your mother’s busy. See your way out.”
Olivier and Elodie back away.
“Not you, Elodie.” Mr. Lafayette’s voice is low and chilling. “Go to your room.”
This is hard to watch. Two adults being treated like rebellious teens. Olivier puts an arm around Elodie and kisses her softly on the cheek. He meets my eyes, and I head for the main entrance.
34
OLIVIER
I’m on the verge of tears. There are plenty of logical reasons for this. Hormones, the consistent throbbing in my asshole, fear of what Drew wants to talk about. But what’s pushing me to the edge is my father’s unfiltered disdain.
I’ve only ever seen him like that when he’s dealing with business associates—on the phone or a Zoom call. Never once has it been directed at me. I’ve been spoiled, sure, but I’ve also been indulged my entire life.
Has he just been humoring me all these years? Playing a part?
I skirt the edges of the party, avoiding eye contact with anyone on my way out. Has the disdain always been there, just waiting for the one thing I’d do to shatter his indulgent papa persona?
It makes me wonder if my mother feels the same way but is just better at hiding it behind smiles and etiquette.
While I’m shocked and feel very much like I’ve been publicly humiliated, I think that what happened in Elodie’s room with Drew primed me for a breakdown.
He’s not at the elevator, and my hand shakes as I push the button to call it back. It arrives quickly, and I ride it down to the lobby. He’s not there either.
My chin trembles, the dam threatening to break. Outside, I find him, finally, and he looks at me in dismay. A tear slips out, beyond my control.
“Where’s your coat?” he asks, annoyed.
The floodgates open, and more tears spill over my cheeks. I’m shivering, cold down to my bones, and like a dark knight, Drew whips off his overcoat and wraps it around my shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry, it’s just cold. Let me get a car. We can wait for it inside.”
I don’t argue. I let him manage me, giving up control to him for the second time in one night. His arm around me is casual in the building lobby while he requests a rideshare on his phone, and I resist the urge to huddle closer to him, despite how much I might want to hide my face in his neck and weep. I swipe at my cheeks and take a few deep breaths, willing the tears to stop, and they do.
“Three minutes away,” Drew says to me.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, to fill the uncomfortable silence.
“It can wait. Right now, I just want to get you back to your place. Decompress.”
