I hate having to admit that what Luc’s father said touched a nerve inside me. His story about his painful divorce, about how I’m Luc’s longest relationship, and talking about how Luc eventually always tires of everything he does. It got to me. I didn’t want it to, but it did. It doesn’t help that it’s his dad; he’s been with Luc since he was born and knows him best. Or so he should, anyway.
Now, I can’t help but worry that I’m being used. It sucks because on the one hand, Luc deserves better than to have me think about him that way, and I hate myself for it, but on the other, I can’t shove the thought down. I have more money than Luc does; that’s how it is, and I won’t deny us a certain lifestyle simply because he can’t afford as much as I can. Only now, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking that Luc knows that just as well as I do.
If only I could blame it all on Luc’s father. Pierre showed little faith in his son but wasn’t hateful or denigrating toward him. He said Luc has style and the potential to achieve great things, which he does. So, and this is the worst part, that means my doubts come from somewhere deep within me. What the hell am I supposed to do about that? I don’t want to mention a prenup, like Pierre suggested. I know many people do it, and if I were talking to anyone else in my shoes, I might encourage them to get one. Maybe just to put them at ease. But bringing up a prenup feels like I might just as well tell Luc I don’t trust him. I’d feel like an asshole if I did.
I wonder how he’s doing. Has he been in the bedroom for so long because he’s just as confused and miserable as me? I have no idea, and I’m conflicted about whether I should check on him.
Not long after, my question is answered. When he finally comes out of the bedroom, I feel like I’m hanging by a thread. Still, I sit upright and look at him, ready to continue our conversation, but what I see is not what I expected: he seems tobe doing okay—better than me, anyway. He actually changed his outfit and did his hair for some reason.
“I’m going out,” he says, calm and determined.
I blink fast and tense up further. This can’t be good. “Going out? With who?”
He shrugs. “Just some people from work. I’d ask you to come, but I don’t think you’ll say yes.”
He’s got that part right. I don’t feel like going at all, but I don’t want him to go either. A lump forms in my throat, and I stand up, too restless to sit still. “Is it a gay club?”
“No, probably a regular club. Although I don’t know where we’ll go after.Pourquoi?”
I wonder if I look as miserable as I feel. “Isn’t it obvious why? Because we’re in the middle of our first fight, and I don’t like you meeting new guys when we have so many things unresolved between us.”
He frowns at that and for a moment I think he’ll become angry and storm off again, but his expression actually softens. “Is this really our first fight?”
“It is.”
He sighs and walks toward me until he’s standing right before me. He slowly moves his hands up and wraps the fabric of my button-up shirt in his fists, looking at me affectionately. “That took us quite a long time, didn’t it?”
“I agree.”
His mouth twitches. “It didn’t have to be this way... you saying what you did. I think you still underestimate me. You don’t trust me.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he shushes me. “You know it’s true, and you know I’m right; it’s written all over your face. Now, I have some thinking to do, and so do you, so I’m going out for a bit to blow off some steam. But this ...” He lets go of my shirt and holds up his hand with the engagement ring. “Iguarantee you that this stays where it is all night, and I’ll show it to whoever comes near, okay? We’ll talk when I come back, or tomorrow.”
He doesn’t await my response and instead leans in to give me a brief kiss. That’s something at least.
“See you later,” he says, and just like that, he walks away from me, grabs his coat, and walks out the door. I can’t find it in me to say anything back.
As he disappears from view, I must admit that at the very least, Luc’s partially right; I need to do some serious soul searching and figure out why I can’t seem to trust him, why I’m worried about his intentions. Maybe it’s just wedding stress, or the unfamiliarity of being in yet another new city, away from my family. Ultimately, I love him, and I want us to work things out. It helps to know we both want that, but I still hate that he just left me here to go partying. I don’t like being here alone.
I sigh deeply and let myself fall back on the couch, burying my face in my hands. I can already feel a headache coming on, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep in this situation. Luc said we both had some thinking to do, and that’s probably true, but I can’t stand being alone in the silence with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, wondering if I’m right to worry. It feels like I’m going to lose my mind.
Maybe I should find someone else to talk to while he’s away. It doesn’t take me long to go with that idea. Given that I don’t trust my thoughts, I should speak to a friend, but who? As I sit and stare at the darkness of my hands covering my eyes, the answer comes to me quickly.
I know who I’ll call: Brian, my brother. He’s a few years younger than me, thirty-three, and he lives in Canada with his wife and kids. Six years ago, he married the love of his life, Rosa, and I remember him being nervous before his wedding. I didn’t exactly understand it then because I was single with no intentionof getting married in the foreseeable future, so I left it to my other older brother, Barry—who’s also married—to calm him down. Things have changed since then. I’m now in the position where I’m stressing about my own wedding, so I can completely understand how my brother felt.
The time difference between Kingston, Canada, and France is nine hours, so at least I know he won’t have gone to bed yet—it’s ten p.m. where I am, one p.m. where he is. I only hope he’ll have time to help me.
I grab my phone and pull up his number, dialing it and hoping he’ll answer. If he doesn’t, I’ll have to call someone else, but I don’t know who. I considered calling Joyce, but she doesn’t believe in marriage, for good reason, so she seems like a bad choice for this. And I really need to talk to someone, so whether I get peace of mind depends on him.
Luckily, quickly after I video-call him, he picks up. “Hey, Codes, what’s up?” he says. He’s slightly out of breath and appears to be outside, so I’m guessing he’s jogging.
“Hey. Sorry, did I disturb your run?”
“You did, but it’s fine; I’ll take a break. How are you, big brother?” He smiles wide. “Long time no see!”
It has been a pretty long time indeed. The last time I talked to him was almost a few months ago, when Luc and I announced our wedding date during a video call with my whole family.
“I’m alright. I just wanted to talk to you about something... personal. If you have time?”
