She heard Bastien press his palms on the other side, his voice muffled as he said, “I know you don’t want to see me. I know you don’t want to have anything to do with me. Iknow. But please listen to me.”
Celine shut her eyes tightly against a prickle of tears, against that note of urgency in his voice. There was nothing more that she wanted to do than see him. But he couldn’t keep playing this push and pull game with her anymore.
“Bastien—”
“Please,” he insisted. “You don’t have to forgive me. You don’t have to look at me. Spit on me even, if it will make you feel better. Justlisten.”
Celine drew in a sharp inhale and warily, so warily, she agreed.
“Five minutes,” she said across the door. “I will listen to you for five minutes, then you will leave.”
“Five minutes,” he agreed reluctantly. “And I will leave.”
If he wanted any ounce of forgiveness from her, he had to earn it. And if she were to evenconsiderforgiving him, she needed to be sure Bastien was not lying again.
He was silent on the other side until she heard shuffling, and realised he was sitting down. Celine remained standing. She was so angry with him, and so angry with herself, that this whole charade felt like a two-sided punishment.
At last, he said, “That night on the rooftop—”
“No,” Celine interrupted. “Tell me first when this stopped being a game for you. If it ever did.”
“After the masquerade,” Bastien replied without hesitation. “I was disgusted at myself for acting like that—for saying what I said to you. I was so blinded by this hatred for everyone in my family that I extended it over to you, too.
“That night when I came to return the sketchbook to you—I wanted to have a reason to see you. To apologise. It was the first time you looked at me like I was worth forgiving. Like I was worth being your friend, and I didn’t want to ruin that. I realised getting back at Jacques wasn’t worth it anymore if it meant losing you in the process. And then I realised…I wanted more.”
Bastien paused briefly, checking if she was still listening. In answer, Celine stalked towards the door and slid down to sit on the opposite side, her back pressed to the door, pressed to Bastien. For a delirious moment she thought she could feel his heartbeat through the wood. Celine huffed a humourless breath. Was she hurting to the point of imagining things now? The sound was probably only the wood thumping against the dampness working its way through it.
Dejectedly, she leaned her head back and listened to him.
“I did not lie when I said Iwantedto kiss you again that second time,” Bastien continued. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you—before and after it. I couldn’t stop smiling either, when I thought about you. I wanted to see you, constantly. I didn’t want to stay away anymore, and not merely for the promise of a few stolen kisses. I wanted everything Jacques had with you—I wanted to laugh with you. I wanted tomakeyou laugh, to kiss you whenever I wanted.” A sigh, heavy with regret, left his lips. “But the night of your birthday…”
Celine’s breath hitched. Outside, pasted on the window, drops of rain trembled in tandem with her body. Her entire skinhad flared up in goosebumps. She drew her knees to herself, hugging them. Part of her didn’t want to relive this scene. The other part wanted—needed—to see his point of view.
“It wasn’t fair to you to give up everything for awhim, for—for something uncertain,” Bastien said. “And when you called it that…” He sighed. “I have never felt for someone the way I feel about you. I didn’t want you to regret choosing me, so I told you I only wanted fun—what I’ve told everyone else. I thought it would be easier that way. I decided not to show up at Maison Baudelaire either. I couldn’t bear seeing that look on your face again. I couldn’t bear hurting you a second time.”
“But you still did.” Her voice trembled, her throat clenched in pain. “We were a team and you bailed.”
Only a choke of protest reached her from the other side. And then:
“Because I was angry at myself and afraid the damage I had done was irreparable, not because I didn’t love you,” he said at last, offering her the words she had been so desperate to hear that night. “You have made me feel more in nine weeks than I ever have my entire life, Celine.” A small exhale echoed through the door. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness this time—you already gave me a second chance and I still wasted it.” His voice was faded, yet filled with repentance. Celine pressed her palm to the door. “But if you can forgive me, and if you can love me back, I am yours. I’m a mess, and probably not worth much, but I am yours. And if you cannot forgive me, I still want you to have everything.” Celine heard a set of keys jingle. A moment later, he slid them underneath the door. “I don’t care about the money anymore, but whether you win tomorrow or not, I want you to have the studio. I won’t be there, if you do not want me to. I’ve hurt you more than I cared to, and I know this barely sets half of it right, but I want you to have it. I…I have no use for it without a designer.”
Celine felt the first tear touch her cheek. His mother’s studio, that he had kept locked for a decade, that he had not sold—not even to pay his grandfather back. Bastien was willing to give it to her to ask for her forgiveness. To set things right between them.
And, he loved her. The thought came barrelling with the speed of a train. He. Loved. Her.
There had been no doubt in his voice when he had said it. No regret either, other than the regret of not telling her when she had wanted to hear it. Bastien had laid his heart bare for her and there was only the absolute truth in it.
She picked up the keys, turning them over in her palm.I can’t believe he took you to Adalene’s studio, Anaïs had said.That’s like sacred ground to him.
“Stupid boy,” Celine whispered, another tear sliding down her cheek. Giving her the most precious thing to him. The only thing he had left of his mother. Because he loved her.
When Celine opened the door, she had not expected to find the space there empty. Distant footsteps echoed faintly through the building.
Bastien had left.
Frantically, Celine brushed her tears away and rushed after him into the dark stairwell. Slivers of light pierced through the planks covering the walls, providing enough light for her to find her footing and take the stairs by two. There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in her heart now. A whole entire year she had spent with Jacques. A whole year of trying to fall in love with him. And it had taken Bastien only one kiss and one second to destroy all of that. Celine couldn’t deny it, nor did she want to: her heart was meant for Bastien all along.
His footsteps sounded closer. Celine paused a short distance away.
