“Am I? He wasusingyou!”
“It was a mutual deal.”
“Now you’re just being stubborn,” Jacques shot back. “What about the rest, then? How do you think he was trying to settle the score between us?”
“I knew about that too—but—”
“And you still managed to fall in love with him, but not me?”
“Hesawme when you didn’t,” Celine snapped. She hadn’t meant to—she had wanted this conversation to unfold peacefully between them—but Jacques’s obstinacy was making it difficult. “At my birthday,” she tried to soften her voice, “when I was so anxious about the proposal that I thought I was going to pass out—he was the only one who noticed I wasn’t happy, even though you were standing right there. When you found out I had left, you didn’t even ask why. You didn’t want to hear it—and I do not blame you for that—but it is not the kind of life I want either of us to have. For me to be dying inside and for you to pretend everything is okay.”
This last sentence found its mark. Jacques blinked at her as though she had said the most horrible thing she could to him.
“Is that,” he managed with some difficulty, “how you’ve been feeling all this time? Miserable?”
“Some of the days,” Celine uttered quietly.
Jacques let out a humourless laugh. “Truly, then, it was all a fake. It was all for nothing.”
“That’s not true—”
“What was it for then, huh? That look of disappointment on Grandfather’s face when I tell him I couldn’t carry out the one thing he asked of me? He had no qualms disowning his real grandson, do you think he will hesitate for me?” Jacques loosened a breath, his posture slacking in semi-defeat. In that moment, Celine saw all the fears that used to cripple her, and some that still did, flicker across his eyes, and her heart seared with compassion for him. “You know I have no room for mistakes, Cel.”
“And I do?” she cut in, her voice faint with desperation. “You think I don’t know how selfish I am being right now? That I don’t know how much this will hurt you and my family? But I amsickof living for others without enjoying a single thing for myself.” She met his desolate stare with a gentle one. “And I do not wish you to live like that either, Jacques.”
Afraid that Jacques would tumble into the fountain if he took one more step back, Celine took his hand and linked their fingers like they were about to play a game.
“Do you remember what you told me on the bridge when we were playing thumb war?”
He nodded absentmindedly. His eyes remained fixed on the petals at their feet.
“You said you would rather see me happy than win. Do you recall those words?” Something in his expression softened at the memory. “I may not love you, not the way you hoped I would, but I do want you to be happy.” Celine turned his palm over and traced the lines that cross-crossed on his skin. “I cannot say yes today, Jacques. I can’t and I will not. I don’t want us to pretend we never said any of these words, or that we never wished things would be different.”
Jacques’s gaze remained distant as he followed the movements of Celine’s index finger on his palm. A warm breeze fluttered from the branches above and filled the air between them with the sweet perfume of the magnolia blossoms. Celine clasped his hands tightly.
“We will never be able to pleaseeveryone,” she said. “We don’t owe that to them, anyway. But we do owe it to ourselves to do what feels right and what makes us happy.”
“And Bastien makes you happy?”
“I know I’m happy when I’m with him,” Celine said softly. “That is all that matters to me. I—”
Distant church bells disrupted her thought, announcing ten o’clock. Celine’s attention drifted to their direction.The competition—
“Go,” Jacques said, squeezing her hand once, then letting go of it. “You came here with a made up mind. And…” He swallowed hard. “I would never stop you from living your dream, Celine. Go. I’ll be alright.”
Celine stared at him with wide eyes. In the next heartbeat, her arms coiled around his neck, pulling him into a fierce hug. “Merci, Jacques,” she sighed, finding it difficult to say anything else. Her entire body was trembling with relief. Both of their actions had been a product of their circumstances; nothing they had done intentionally. This acceptance and this forgiveness—she recognised that it had taken him tremendous effort to make. But she was grateful for it.
Jacques buried his face in the crook of her neck for the very last time and whispered, “I am sorry,” before gently placing her down again. “I never wanted to make you miserable.”
“I am sorry, too,” Celine whispered back. “I never wanted to lie to you.” There was so much more they needed to say to each other; more wounds that needed stitching, which only a very long conversation could provide. But looking at him, Celine realised that he might need a bit of time for himself before they were ready for that.
Mouthing another thank you, she tossed Jacques one last glance before rushing towards the garden gates.
• • •
Bastien’s Cadillac was lingering by the park’s entrance, engine running and heaps of glittering dresses poking out from every direction. He must have found Anaïs wandering the gardens too, because she was sitting in the backseat, fingerstapping annoyingly on her brother’s shoulder as they waited for Celine.
“Will you stop that?”
