“Seriously, Bri. I’m fine—good, actually.”
I feel like the more I say it, the less it will convince him, and the quirk of his eyebrows confirms it. I’d better end this conversation now before I make everything even worse.
“Okay, I have to go, little brother. Talk later!”
“Alright, good luck. Talk soon.”
As we hang up and his face disappears from my screen, I must admit thatcalling Brian was a mistake. As a result of our conversation, he’ll probably tell our entire family that I’m having doubts about the wedding and that he thinks I shouldn’t go through with it. And the next time they see Luc, at the wedding or before, they’ll look at him with judgment, treat him differently, and Luc won’t understand why that is unless I tell him what happened here. Which I probably should.
What the hell am I doing anyway? My family can’t help me; they’ve only seen Luc during a few video calls. They won’t meet him until the wedding. They don’t know him, so asking them for advice is pointless. I should have realized that before I madethe call, but I thought my brother would tell me different things. Apparently, I was wrong.
That proves it, then. I should pull myself together and talk to the only person it concerns: Luc himself. I just have to hope we can work things out when he comes back.
***
When he arrives home sometime during the night, I’ve already slept. I don’t know when it happened. I was tossing and turning for a few hours before I apparently drifted off. I left the light on the nightstand on for him so he could see. It was just weak enough for me to fall asleep, but honestly, I wasn’t expecting to get much sleep anyway.
I don’t know what time it is when I wake up to the front door closing and, not much later, him slipping into the bed with me. He’s trying to be silent but isn’t entirely successful, and smells faintly of alcohol. The bed bounces when he lies on it, and I turn around to face him. He sees me stir and presses against me once he notices I’m awake.
“Hi,” he says, a little too loudly.
“Are you drunk?” I ask. When dating a guy in his early twenties, one can expect him to go to clubs and drink—sometimes too much. It may not be the case for everyone, but the chances are there, and usually I don’t mind him doing it, but on this night, I kind of do.
“Only a little tipsy,” he says, wrapping his arm around me as he nestles underneath the blanket. And dammit, I can’t resist him even though I’m upset. “Can we take a break from fighting?” he asks, softly dragging his fingers along my chest. “Tu m’as manqué.”
I frown at that. “You missed me?” I ask, surprised. “At the club?”
“Oui.”
“Well, I . . . missed you too.”
“We can talk tomorrow,” he says. “Right now, I just want to cuddle and sleep. Okay?”
I think about it and quickly decide it’s what I need too. “Okay.”
Having him in my arms in my bed feels nice and before long, I find myself falling asleep again.
Chapter 34: Cody
The following morning, he’s quiet when he wakes up, only leaning up to give me a brief kiss before saying he’s going to take a shower. Once he’s done, he insists we have breakfast together first, and I agree. We eat a croissant and drink coffee, mostly in silence, before retreating to the couch for the talking that needs to be done. I don’t look forward to it, but we must.
“Okay then, let’s talk,” he says, sitting to my left on the couch. His voice is determined, but his expression gives him away, showing a hint of the uncertainty I know he’s trying to hide. His stare is hard, yet he looks fragile to me. I don’t think anyone else would see it, but nobody knows him like I do—loves him like I do.
No matter what, that hasn’t changed.
“Tell me what’s on your mind. Don’t soften it, and use English so I know you won’t use the wrong words.”
I nod, swallowing hard as I look away from him. My fingers drum softly and swiftly on my legs as I phrase my sentences. I open my mouth, but no words come out yet, so I take a deep breath instead. Part of me wants to keep it inside, to tell him it’s all okay, that we should leave it behind us and start planning our wedding, but I know that won’t help us in the long run.
So here goes.
“Yesterday, when you were at the club, I called my brother in Canada. Brian. You’ve met him, sort of.” Luc nods. “I told him you and I had a fight and that I was upset because you went out during our fight while I wanted to resolve things and...” I pause. This is the hardest part, the message most difficult to deliver, but I have to tell him the truth. He deserves to know what I told Brian. “I also told him I think we’re entering this marriage at different starting points and that I worry you’redoing it for the wrong reasons. Because sometimes I think you need me so you can live here and afford a certain lifestyle.”
When I finish speaking, he presses his lips together and stares hard at the ground. He stays quiet for a long time. “So it’s really true, then?” he eventually says. To my surprise, his eyes turn wet. Crap. “You seriously still don’t trust me?”
The pain shows on his face, and a tear escapes his eye. I follow it with my gaze, feeling my heart break in the process. That tear is my fault; I put it there with my words.
He sighs heavily, as though the world is resting on his shoulders, and he sounds defeated. He shifts forward to sit on the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and lowering his head. I know how he feels because it’s what I felt last night.
