Unlike me, Pierre doesn’t hold in his chuckle. “That sounds like Luc.” He pauses again before adding, “I wasn’t sure if you two were still together, but given that he hasn’t shown up at my door yet, begging for help, whereas you’re here now, proves to me that you still are.”
I nod. “We are.”
“What’s it been? Six months now?”
“Seven, actually.”
Pierre takes another sip of his coffee, making that typical “ahh” sound as he puts the cup down. “That’s quite a long time for Luc.”
I’m glad to know Luc was a virgin before we met. Otherwise, I would have been worried about what his father’s words meant.
When I don’t reply, he says, “So? Are you living in Besançon together?”
“Yes.”
Pierre leans back in his chair and snorts softly, staring into the distance. “Luc’s been begging me to take him there for years, constantly telling me how beautiful Besançon is and thathe wants to go back. I can’t believe he pulled it off on his own.” His gaze falls back on me, giving me an inquisitive stare. “Although... not on his own. I’m assuming you’re paying for everything? Including the house you live in?”
“It’s a rental. We want to buy a house after the wedding.”
“So the wedding is still on?”
“Very much so, yes. In fact, I wanted to hand you this personally.” I reach into my chest pocket, pull out an envelope, and place it on the table. Pierre looks at me for several seconds before reaching for it and opening it.
Inside the envelope that’s addressed to him is the save-the-date for our wedding. It’s on white textured paper, with subtle squared edges around the message. The save-the-date is in French, and at the top in golden letters are our names in a chic, swirly font that Luc picked. The invitation, date, and a short announcement that the location—somewhere in or close to Besançon—will be announced later, are written in the same font underneath it, but smaller. In the bottom corner is a small sunflower to show the theme Luc and I decided on.
“I told Luc I sent it by post; he doesn’t know I’m here,” I tell Pierre as he reads it.
“Keeping secrets already, huh?” Pierre says, and the comment could be considered rude, but the amusement—and perhaps even admiration—in his eyes tells me not to take it too seriously. He inspects the piece of paper and asks, “Luc’s design, I take it?” I nod, and Pierre tilts his head meaningfully. “The boy has style.”
I can only nod—that’s precisely what I told Luc before I left. “He does.”
Pierre then looks up from the save-the-date and glances at me. “You both do, from what I can tell. It’s a talent he could use if he really wanted to.”
I give a light shrug. “He’s doing what he loves. That’s the most important thing.”
Pierre scoffs at me. “Is it? Then tell me, when you buy a house, who will pay for it?”
“Both of us, but mostly me, probably.”
“And it will be in both your names?”
“That’s the plan.”
Pierre places the paper on the table, quirking his eyebrows. “Be careful, then. Nothing tends to last with Luc. He didn’t become interested in cakes until last year, and I’m not sure it will last much longer.”
“He’s working at a cake shop right now in Besançon. He started there shortly after we moved.”
Pierre frowns, his surprise clearly showing. “Is he really?”
“Yes. He looks happy... except for one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“He really wants you to come to the wedding.”
Pierre makes a soft, incredulous sound, reaches for his coffee, and takes another sip. “Does he?”
“He does, and—” Just then, my phone starts buzzing, and I pause mid-sentence to pull it out of my pocket and look at it.
