I eat escargot, but she gets button mushrooms in the same garlicky sauce. We have baguettes, and several cheeses, three of which are artisanal vegan versions of mine. “It’s actually quite fun to have you eat vegan items that are inspired by foods I love,” I say to her, enjoying the faces she makes when she tastes something new.
“You might be way too innocent, sweet, Christmas-obsessed, and eat weirdly, but you’re a pleasure to be around.” What a shitty compliment, but I’m dangerously close to falling in love with her.
Chapter Seventeen
Juliet
We are on a private jet—I’m about to pass out from sheer excitement and nerves. We’d gone back to Gran's house so that I could pick up something to wear and put a few things in an overnight bag. I have on a cute little black dress and a pair of chunky black satin heels. I also put on a long black Cashmere coat. These are the nicest items of clothing I own. I threw some sleepwear into my bag as well as one more nice outfit in case Marcel springs something on me tomorrow.
I'm excited, I'm scared, and I'm feeling and thinking so many contradictory things. I don't want to give in to Marcel and allow him to destroy the community I grew up in. I have to say, however, there is an intoxication in being treated like a princess by a man who has more money than God. I eat some of the best vegan appetizers I've ever had and, before I know it, the plane is landing. My heart races and I can't help but feel a little bit nauseous as to what's to come.
“Are you nervous?” he asks and takes my hand as if to soothe my stress.
“I think maybe I'll feel a little better if you let me know where we're going. I'm starting to hyperventilate.”
“What scares you most?” he asks, being sweet.
“I don't want to fall in love with you,” I blurt out, feeling like shit because, of course, I want to fall in love with him, but he doesn't want me. I’d hate to be hurt and left stranded. There's nothing worse than being dumped by a billionaire who was just getting his kicks.
“Well, our needs are aligned there.” That stabs.
I look at Marcel and almost tell him I lied, that he's mature, sexy, and beautiful. I could care less about his money but somehow this is seducing me too. I'm too naive, idealistic, and bright-eyed for the world he lives in, but I can't imagine mine without him.
I feel like I might cry and kick myself for it because I am not overly sentimental. I've become so crazy emotional. It's as if everything has been heightened. My skin crawls. Things smell strange and food tastes different. Everything is just, I don't know if it's love or lust or—what is this man doing to me? And then I fucking cry.
“Okay,” he says, bringing me into a hug. “Maybe you've fallen in love a little bit?”
I burst into sobs, I can't say anything.
“I understand,” he tells me. “Maybe I have too.”
We don't say anything more on the subject and we walk a short distance through the private part of the airport to a waiting limousine. He helps me into the car and in the backseat, I try to collect myself and put my makeup back on.
“You don't need to wear makeup," he tells me in conversation, not scolding, just making an observation.
“Thank you,” I say quietly and note that it’s almost eleven at night.
“Tonight,” he touches my leg. “You are going to meet my friends. I have exactly three of them, but two come with wives and tons of children, the other is single and is a hockey player who you’ll probably fall in love with.”
“I’m not going to be walking in on the arm of one man only to go home on the arm of another, Marcel.” I say quietly. “I’m looking forward to meeting them. They don’t mind going out this late?”
“They’re going to love you.” He kisses my forehead and again, I have both an ache of sadness and a spark of joy. “And it’s early for New York City.”
He brings me to his favorite pub. The place is much more down to earth than I expect and is on the outskirts of Manhattan. It’s a dark boozy bar. His friends are all devastatingly beautiful men. Two of them, Beckett and Griffin, are around the same age as Marcel. The last man he introduces me to is Cayden. He’s in his early thirties and seems well built and muscular.
I can see why Marcel may have thought I'd be interested in Cayden; he's got a rogue-ish boyishness that is attractive. All of his friends have a rich, aristocratic air about them. They drink and swear and surprisingly keep their conversation centered around gushing about their beautiful wives and families, and Cayden’s prowess on the ice. Cayden is, apparently, a famous hockey player but, since I have no interest in the game, I don’t recognize him.
“Everyone,” Marcel announces, resting a hand at the small of my back, “Juliet, is my arch nemesis. She’s simultaneously trying to get me to save a struggling community and believe in Christmas all at the same time.”
His friends laugh as if he's made some kind of horrible joke. This defeats my spirits but I'm tough. I can handle a little laughter.
“Good luck with that,” Griffin says still laughing, “Marcel is an evil bastard.
“I believe she is aware because her nickname for me is the Grinch,” Marcel says and I smile as he kisses my cheek.
I see that his friends love to tease with caustic humor. There's more laughter, drinks, and food. With each round something vegan shows up that is absolutely out of this world. I’m gracious and try to be charming. For a while I forget about Clara and Eaton and enjoy good beer, laughter, amazing food, and Marcel in his element. I have to admit I have not seen him so effortlessly happy. Although I don't know him well, I know him well enough to observe that he's always a little tightly wound. With his friends he's loose, joyful, and a little naughty. They really do like one another's company.
As the evening wears down, so do I. We didn't sleep well together in my bed the night before and we’d had a whole day exploring the community and Christmas. Now it's nearly two in the morning and I'm about to turn into a pumpkin, or a pumpkin pie I guess. I’m trying to hide my fatigue but, of course, Marcel is dialed in.
