“Cheer up, Jules,” he chirped, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Love will have me to confront with if it comes to rip open your chest.”
“Worry about yourself, lover boy,” Juliana called after him. “My heart is used to pain. It is yours I fear getting hurt.”
Chapter 26
Champagne Problems
The dining hall at the Ritz had turned into a smorgasbord of pearl coloured napkins, sparkling silverware, and tiers upon tiers of confectionery for Celine’s birthday soirée. The Marie Antoinette theme was doing better than she had expected; the place looked enchanted under the glow of candles, burning in the centre of each table, and the pink rose petals scattered aimlessly over the mint tablecloth. The guests Madame LeBeau had invited, though, were taking their sweet time showing up.
The dinner was droning on endlessly. Celine had done her best to greet those who had already arrived, plastering on a dazzling smile and holding it until her cheeks had turned numb. She had chatted with aunts and uncles she hadn’t seen in a while and who only showed up for parties, including cousins so far down the line they were practically strangers to her. She had accepted birthday gifts, clinked glasses over excited congratulations, dripped champagne all over the floor, arranged trips over the summer, which she wished her friends would forget about the second they were back in their cars, driving away.
And even though the ballroom was almost full, the evening seemed to have just started. The watch on Jacques’s wrist seemed to tick the seconds at a slower pace than was phenomenally possible. Celine had fastened her eyes on it forthe last ten minutes, until Jacques abruptly lowered his hand, disrupting her moment of reverie.
“Celine?” His fingers pressed tightly on the small of her back. Their warmth seeped through the fabric, bringing her attention to him even as she continued to stare ahead blankly. “I think I lost you just there.”
“Forgive me,” she said, wrestling her eyes away from the jazz band. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed tonight.”
Jacques moved his hand up and down her spine soothingly. There was a slight, nervous tremble to his fingertips. “Look at the bright side, you are surrounded by your beloved cake. Not to mention, that table of gifts by the door will resemble a tower by the end of the night.”
Producing a joyless chuckle, Celine fidgeted in place, smoothing down her dress, then pinching the beads on her bracelet, rolling them between her fingers. She didn’t care about the presents. She had no appetite for cake, either. The only thing Celine wanted from this party was for it to be over.
Jacques, fortunately, didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.
“Are any of them from you?” she asked, if only to ease the tension that was brewing in the air between them, around them, everywhere.
“A couple. But the main surprise I have for you isn’t on that table.”
“Is it going to get on the table?”
“If you ask nicely. You will see what I mean soon.”
Celine forced out another chuckle. All night, she had been entertaining the idea of tugging him away, somewhere no one would overhear. Then she would let everything spill from her chest like she was a broken fountain of confessions. Jacques would hate her by the end of it, of course he would, but it would be better than lying to him for the rest of her life.
What was stopping her were the words she expected to hear afterwards.
She had probably drank too much champagne.
The room was hot—too hot. That had certainly muddled her thoughts.
She can’t possibly mean it. Jacques is perfect; he is kind, and generous, and sweet, and handsome.
She is a fool for saying no to him.
Celine gazed around the room as if she was a ghost. Everyone and everything had blurred at the edges and they were floating around her in slow-motion. And then her stare snagged on her mother, approaching them like a dragonfly in her green evening gown, and everything sharpened once more.
“Oh God,” Celine muttered, snapping out of the daze. At her side, Jacques sucked in a sharp breath. For all the apprehension she felt, Celine cast him an amused look. “What doyouhave to worry about? Sheloooovesyou.”
“Right,” he said, relaxing slightly. “I guess I tense by proxy. Your mother is a scary woman.”
He wasn’t wrong. Even as she was making her way to them by pausing at every table to greet the guests with a radiant smile, that smile was also exceptionally sharp. Celine levelled a flat look at him.
“We do look awfully alike,” she mused, “my mother and I. You are not terrified of me too, are you?”
Jacques shook his head without missing a beat. “Of course not,ma jolie.”
Celine tsked, and was about to shove at him when her mother’s fingers wrapped around her wrist.
“Jacques,” Madame LeBeau said sweetly, dragging Celine to the side. “Your grandfather was looking for you.”
