Connor’s ex-girlfriend from Montreal. The one he dated before moving to Winter Bay. The one his mother adored.
“Maman came back with me yesterday. She’s staying until the wedding.” Connor won’t meet my eyes. “Her hip replacement recovery is taking longer than expected.”
Vivienne settles herself on the arm of the sofa, surveying me. “The doctors, they insist I need full-time care. Frédérique—she was kind enough to come with me, là. She leave her life in Montréal for me.”
I turn to Connor. “Isn’t she your ex?”
Before Connor can answer, Vivienne laughs lightly. “Oh, they were just children then. Frédérique has been like a daughter to me for years.”
“And is Frédérique staying here too?” I ask, looking directly at Connor.
“Of course she will stay here! Where else would she go?” Vivienne interjects smoothly. “Frédérique needs to be close to monitor my recovery.”
I take a deep breath, forcing a tight smile that feels like it might crack my face. “Connor, can I speak with you for a moment? Privately?”
“Of course. Excuse us,” he says to his mother and Frédérique.
I lead him to the kitchen, waiting until we’re out of earshot before turning to face him. “What the hell, Connor?” I hiss, keeping my voice low but unable to hide my anger. “Your ex-girlfriend is staying at your house? And you didn’t think to mention this to me?”
Connor
“Ma belle, I wasgoing to tell you. It was decided yesterday—”
“You had all day yesterday,” she cuts me off. “You had the entire time we were in the shower together. Instead, I had to find out like this?”
Tabarnac. “I tried to warn you upstairs—”
“Warn me? This isn’t something you warn someone about, Connor. This is something you discuss with your fiancée before it happens.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t live here, but your ex-girlfriend gets to move in?”
I sigh, leaning against the granite counter. “C’est pas comme ça. It’s not like that, là. Frédérique is Maman’s nurse, eh? She needed someone familiar with her case—”
“And the only qualified nurse in all of Canada is your ex?” Meesha shakes her head in disbelief. “Come on, Connor. You can’t be that naïve.”
Maman raised me on her own, supporting my hockey dreams, even when it was financially difficult. How can I refuse her now?
I remember finding her asleep at the kitchen table countless nights, her fingers still curled around a needle as she mended my hockey gear because she couldn’t afford new ones. How she worked double shifts at the hospital so I could train with Coach Renaud, who turned average players into NHL prospects. How she’d fallen asleep in the stands during my games, exhausted but refusing to miss a moment.
Her one indulgence had been a silver medallion of Saint Sebastian, patron of athletes, that she’d presented to me before my first major tournament. “Pour te protéger,” she’d whispered as she fastened it around my neck. I still wore it as a reminder of what she sacrificed.
“Maman had major surgery, Meesha. She needs care.”
“I don’t dispute that. What I’m upset about is you making this decision without talking to me. We’re getting married in two months, and you’re letting your ex-girlfriend live with you until then?”
I try again, feeling like I’m back on the ice, skating against a stronger opponent. “The guest suite is completely separate—”
“That’s not the point!” She takes a step back. “You didn’t consider how this would make me feel. Your mother has never liked me, and now she’s brought her ideal daughter-in-law to live under your roof.”
From the living room, I hear my mother’s quiet cough. I glimpse her reflection in the kitchen window, one hand pressed against her hip as she winces in pain before quickly composing herself when Frédérique approaches.
I reach for Meesha, but she steps away. “Ma belle, please. It’s not what you think.”
“What am I supposed to think? That this is a coincidence? That your mother, who has spent the last ten years blaming me for ‘stealing her baby’, suddenly brings your ex to live with you right before our wedding, and you just go along with it?”
My jaw tightens. When she says it like this, I can see why she is upset. But what choice did I have?
“What was I supposed to do? Tell my mother she couldn’t stay here, là?”
“No. You were supposed to talk to me. To consider my feelings. To give me a heads-up before I walked in and found them here.” She shakes her head, and I can see her fighting back tears. My chest constricts. “This is exactly what she wants. To drive a wedge between us.”
