I’m contemplating that on a Saturday evening, in my study, staring at the Cimabue I paid too much for. The colors used to comfort me, but now…nothing.
“Papa?” I hear Aubert before I see him. He comes in without ceremony and perches across from me.
“I rang the bell,” he says, concern written in the lines of his face. “You didn’t answer.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear.” I set my glass of whiskey down and try to look like a man who has it together.
“You should get Tara back.”
He says it like it’s obvious.
I look at him like he asked me to join the Paris Ballet Corps as a prima ballerina.
He sighs, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “Papa, you love her. She loves you.”
Now, I shoot him a glare brimming with frustration. “You know what happened. It’s better this way. I…I’ll ruin her life.”
You already did, Gustave.
“You can protect better her next time,” he says simply.
“From what? The newspapers? The paparazzi?” I let out a brittle laugh.
“From Maman.”
I suck in a breath. “Aubert.”
He studies me, then reaches for my half-filled glass of whiskey. He downs the rest of it and then speaks coolly, “I overheard something.”
“What?”
“She took the photo from my phone.”
“Who?” But I knew.
“Maman.”
The world comes to a stop. I forget to breathe.
When I finally can make sounds again, I ask, “How do you know?”
“I heard her. She was talking toTante?* Emma. She was bragging. Maman said she sent the selfie to the photographer she always has on call. The one who makes sure she looks good in the photos? She said it would teach you a lesson and that you’d come crawling back to her. She said she’d invite you to a gala now that everything is quieter and get you back.” Aubert’s voice is small, disgusted.
The floor tilts.
Simone and her sister are close, and I’m not surprised she’d tell her the truth.
My anger spikes, fracturing into something uglier: fury at Simone, at Giselle, at the world…but mostly at myself. I was the fool who’d done what I did. And hadn’t I done it even though I was full of doubts about how Tara was not the person that the article said she was?
After all these years, I had believed a fucking tabloid. And there was no way around why I did it—I wanted an excuse to end us, so I wouldn’t do something stupid like ask her to stay and be with me…forever.
I did that once before, and look how that turned out.
“You heard your Maman say she’d get me back?” I ask, my voice low.
“Yes,” Aubert replies. “Maman…she wants you to appear weak and then be grateful when she offers you her hand.”
Simone is his mother, but I can’t protect him from her any longer. In any case, she should be careful about what he hears when he’s at her place.
