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Famous actresses and royalty among them.
How could a twenty-two year old from Calgary, Alberta possibly catch his eye? And if I actually had, for how long? He was infamous for his short relationships. Was I just the next one on the giant conveyor belt that was Beau Moreau’s love life?
That thought made me sad. It also must’ve shown on my face. “My dear, why are you looking so glum? We are in the heart of Montréal, at some of the best shops in the world. How can one be so unhappy?” Monique asked as she sat in the luxurious pink, velvet chair.
I gave her a small smile. “I’m just tired, don’t mind me.”
“Ahh, then we will find a nice, strong, café au lait after we make sure you have stocked up on enough yoga wear.”
Inwardly, I screamed a little at her buying me even more things. Outwardly, I nodded and smiled as I thanked her for her generosity.
We’d stopped for lunch.And boy was I hungry after going in and out of so many stores.
Beau was correct. His mother was a shopper. I’d never seen someone with such a keen eye for what might look good on me. Although the sheer volume of what she’d already bought for me made me cringe, I had to admit I looked good in everything Monique picked out.
I’d ordered a salad and so did Monique. After a few minutes of idle chit chat, she suddenly and quite abruptly changed the subject to Beau.
“Geneviève, I love my son more than life itself. But he lives a—large life. The woman who will stand by his side needs to understand that. She will also need to remind him—and often, that he is—in fact—not as large as he thinks he is.”
I laughed quietly into my cocoa as she continued speaking.
“And that woman, even though she’s young,” she spoke softly, her voice steady and calm, “will understand the pressures he’s under now as well as the pressures he will surely face when that world he lives in now is over.” Her eyes were glassy, and cautious.
“Because one day, he will wake up and there will be no rink to go to. No game to prepare for. No team waiting for him.” Her hand covered mine. “No fans clamouring for his attention. He will always be Beau Moreau. But when that day comes—he needs to know he’s just as wanted at home as he ever was,” she stretched her arm out and wiggled her hand toward the window, “out there.”
“He will need a wife and family who love and adore him. They will show him what his true purpose is in life.”
A subtle, burning sensation began behind my eyes and my throat turned dry. “Monique, Beau and I’ve only just met, I think you’ve—”
She squeezed my hand and smiled. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” her voice cracked, making me tear up. I tried to blink away the wetness, but it was a lost cause. “And I’ve seen the way you look at him, child. This is new, I understand. This is also real. I think you already know that.”
I gently wiped under my eyes with the napkin. “Monique, I really don’t know what to say.” Wasn’t that the truth, though? I couldn’t tell her this whole thing between Beau and I was a farce. I couldn’t tell her I’d been in love with her son for over a decade.
I couldn’t tell her that my girlhood love had turned and grown into an adult love. For me. Whatever was going on between us now remained a mystery. Beau had yet to say. My bets weren’t on a sudden declaration of his undying love for me. Not that I would be able to say that to his mother.
“You don’t have to say anything, Geneviève. I already know.”
Casual wearand yoga pants were one thing.
Ball gowns were another.
“Monique, really, I can’t accept. It’s far too much for a dress I’ll only wear once,” I said in a whisper, unable to take my eyes off myself.
I looked incredible in this gray gown. The neckline was cut low, but it held me in so securely I didn’t even need a bra with it. It really was a magical dress. The spaghetti straps left much of my skin on display.
The bodice was tight enough to stop an unfortunate incident from happening, yet loose enough to let me breathe.
I’d never felt such lush fabric before in my life. Whatever this was made of felt divine. Looking at myself in the mirror, I hardly recognized myself in this glamourous dress.
“Nonsense, it was made for you, right Collette?”
“Oh, absolutely, Monique. She’s a rare beauty and this style suits like no other,” Collette, the store clerk said as she knelt down to touch the hem. “If these shoes are comfortable, we won’t even need to alter it?”
She was referring to the sparkly, silver heels with their trademark red souls. The shoes that cost more than my first car. They were definitely Cinderella shoes.
“Are they comfortable, Geneviève? Do you like them?” Monique asked unnecessarily. These shoes felt and fit like actual butter. So soft, yet elegant. Did I like them? That was an understatement. Any high heel loving person would die for a pair of these.
“They’re beautiful, yes,” I said, willing myself not to spurt out how I could get by with wearing the plain Jane shoes that I’d brought with me. That would do a total disservice to this dress.
