32. Pound Puppy
Adam Décarie was the gentlest person I knew, but there was no mistaking his rage as we rode the elevator up to his parents’ penthouse. I stared at him through the mirrored wall, trying to figure out what was going to happen when we got there.
“Adam, don’t do anything you’ll regret later,” I urged, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I thought you’d be happy with this outcome,” he muttered, staring blankly at me through the mirror.
What outcome? I wasn’t even sure what was happening. I was, however, wishing I’d kept my big mouth shut.
Adam didn’t knock to announce his arrival as he’d done the last time we were there. He barrelled through the unlocked front door as if he was the king rather than one of the princes. I had to run to keep up.
Mrs Brown missed Adam’s entrance but walked into the foyer in time for mine. “Miss Charli,” she said, wide-eyed and worried. “What is the matter?”
I didn’t quite know how to answer her, but gave it my best shot. “Adam is here to see his mother. Is she here?”
My question was redundant. I could already hear raised voices from the lounge room. Mrs Brown abandoned me in an instant, running into the room to find the source of the commotion.
The second I passed through the opaque glass doors, I knew there would be no going back. My eyes scanned the room, searching for Adam. He was standing near the windows with his back to his mother. Perhaps he couldn’t bear to see her so distraught. Even I was having trouble with it. Fiona sat on the edge of the couch, weeping into her hands. Mrs Brown rushed to her side, doing her best to comfort her by patting her knee.
“I will never forgive you for this, Mom,” admonished Adam.
“You’re making such a dreadful mistake,” she wailed. “This girl will never be to our standard.” She pointed across the room to me, reminding me that I was the enemy.
Adam shot her a look of sheer poison. “I don’t like our standards.”
Fiona let out a weird raspy sob. Mrs Brown put her arm around her, glared at Adam and spouted a few sentences in French. Adam replied in the same rough tone, using the same secret language. The whole situation was absurd, especially now that I’d lost track of the conversation. I just wanted the end to come quickly.
Fiona composed herself by taking in a deep breath, shrugged free of Mrs Brown and stood to face up to her son. I was almost grateful for the change in her demeanour. She was actually easier to handle when she was furious.
“If you choose to throw your entire life away on this girl, be my guest.”
“What is it about her that you despise so much?” asked Adam. “It can’t honestly be Charli’s background. You’ve obviously forgotten that you started out as the product of a single mother, living in a council flat.” He mimicked her English accent perfectly.
I heard a sharp gasp – then realised it had come from me. I had no idea that her class one pedigree had come via Jean-Luc. She’d been behaving like a lowly pound puppy because deep down, she was one – just like me.
“Look at what you’ve done,” she yelled at me.
I frowned, unsure of what she was accusing me of.
“Don’t even talk to her,” warned Adam roughly.
“She will never fit in here,” Fiona scoffed, stepping even closer to him. “The girl doesn’t belong here.”
I totally agreed with her – but it didn’t seem like the right time to mention it. If someone had burst into the room at that very moment and offered me a ride to the airport, I would’ve jumped at the chance.
“If you knew anything, you’d realise how lucky you are to even know her,” Adam ranted. “How sad it is that you’ve never given yourself that chance.”
The queen looked far from regretful. She looked as if she was close to lynching the both of us. “Jamais,” she hissed, unrepentant.
“Then you lose me too,” he said sadly, already walking away from her. He reached for my hand as he passed and began leading me toward the door.
“If you walk out of this house, you will never be welcome here again, Adam!”
“I wasn’t planning on coming back.” He didn’t even slow down.
As good as it felt to be on the winning side for once, I knew Adam was on the verge of permanently damaging something very important. I couldn’t let him do it.
“Wait,” I muttered, pulling my hand free of his as we got to the door. I turned back to face Fiona. “You’re going about this all wrong,” I told her. “It’s like you’re trying to do away with me by drinking the poison yourself. You’re the only one who’s getting hurt.”
“Is that what you think?” she asked, circling the couch like a prowling lioness. “Stupid, obnoxious girl.”
She sat back down and I felt safe enough to take a few steps back into the room. Adam stayed put near the doorway. “I think you know you’re about to lose your son. And you love him as much as I do. And you loved him first. You shouldn’t let him walk away.”
Fiona looked away ostentatiously, saying nothing, incensing Adam all over again. “We’re out of here, Charli,” he said already half way out of the room. “She’s not listening.”
“Please don’t let him do this,” I begged.
She glared at me as if I’d already stolen him away. “Go,” she snarled.
She left me with no choice. I turned and walked away, feeling much less victorious than I thought I would.
***
Stepping out on the street felt like surfacing after a long stint under water. Breathing became a whole lot easier, but the exhaustion that comes after nearly drowning remained. Adam didn’t seem to be faring much better.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
His grip on my hand tightened and he quickened his pace, forcing me to skip forward to keep up. “No. I’m not okay,” he said roughly.
I yanked on his hand, pulling him to a stop. “Your mum will calm down, Adam.” It was a stupid, unqualified statement to make. I had no idea how long the woman could hold a grudge.
“I couldn’t care less, and nor should you.” I was confused by his anger. “You should be thrilled things ended the way they did. Now you’ll never have to deal with her again.”
“You’ll regret cutting her off. The way you’re acting proves that you already do.”
He shook his head, glaring at me. “I don’t understand you at times. She behaved terribly and you just put up with it.”
“I tried to tell you. You told me I was overreacting.”
“Were you planning to just endure her wrath indefinitely, Charli?”
“No, Adam” I spat. “I was prepared to keep it up for two years.”
He locked his eyes to mine, deliberating. “I really don’t deserve you.”
“I love you, you idiot! Whether you deserve me or not!”
He looked absolutely stunned. “You were right,” he said finally. “The way you love me is unfair.”
He walked away then, never once turning back to see if I was following. Boy Wonder left me standing alone on Fifth Avenue, feeling as though the whole sorry saga was somehow my fault.
My next move bordered on lunacy. I tried my hand at retail therapy. I slipped into the first boutique I came across, whipped out the evil black credit card and used it to buy a ridiculously expensive dress that I didn’t even like.
It wasn’t therapeutic at all. It wasn’t better than sex and it wasn’t better than chocolate. I found it to be self indulgent and boring, which brought me great hope. In my mind, it meant that Charli Blake hadn’t been completely consumed by Charlotte Décarie and the stupid world she lived in.
***
Days passed without any mention of the queen. Adam went about life as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He studied as hard as he always did and loved me as much as he always had.
I didn’t mention that I’d received a phone call from Jean-Luc’s office demanding a meeting with me that morning. All things Décarie were seemingly taboo lately.
I was officially a fool. I sat in the reception area on level forty-three of the massive office building, shaking like a leaf. I was terrorising myself. No one forced me to jump every time the Décaries beckoned. For some reason I just did it.
Coming to my senses, I picked up my bag and made a quick dash toward the elevator, only to have the receptionist call out to me as I passed her desk.
“I can’t wait any longer,” I told her, unapologetically. I thumped the button on the elevator over and over as if that would somehow hurry it up. But it was futile. The doors opened and I stood face to face with the king.
I often wondered if Adam and Ryan saw their future when they looked at their dad. He was a strong mix of both of them, and just as handsome – probably even more so, if I was being honest. His hair was a little darker than Adam’s, lightly flecked with grey at the temples. He shared Ryan’s warm brown eyes and penchant for expensive suits. I didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he was arrogant like Ryan or low-key like Adam.
“Dear Charli. How are you?” he asked, alternating glances between the compendium of papers in his hand and me.
I was about to reply but he walked straight past me, heading toward his office. Evidently, he was self-important like Ryan. “You’re not going to stop walking long enough to hear my answer?” The brash question tumbled out of my mouth. I was too miffed to even bother trying to censor it.
Jean-Luc stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face me. “Of course. Forgive me,” he said quietly. “Charli, how are you?”
“I’m a little upset actually,” I said, continuing with my brutal run of honesty. “You asked me to meet you here at nine. It’s almost half-past.”
The receptionist must have thought this was compelling viewing because the incessant tapping of her long nails on her keyboard halted immediately. Jean-Luc smiled at me but I held my ground. I’d come too far to back down and apologise for my Décarie-strength arrogance. “I apologise for my tardiness.” He spoke slowly, choosing his words very carefully. “If you don’t have time to meet with me now, perhaps we could reschedule for another day.”
“No. I’d like to get this over with now.”
I didn’t even know what this was but I knew it wouldn’t be good. Fiona’s recollection of the vicious run-in with her son would have been an Oscar-worthy performance. And all blame would have been lumped squarely on me.
A frown flashed across Jean-Luc’s face but he recovered quickly, opening the door of his office and ushering me in ahead of him.
It was impossible not to be impressed. The large room was as big as our whole apartment. The floor to ceiling windows boasted a view almost as good as the one from the roof.
“Take a seat, please,” he said motioning toward a big leather chair opposite his desk. “If you can draw yourself away from the view.” He sat in his chair and pulled it closer to his desk. He picked up a pen and began writing something on the stack of papers he’d brought in with him. “I am constantly distracted by the window,” he complained jokingly. “It’s hard to get any work done in here.”
I found it hard to believe anything distracted him. Even as we spoke, he was preoccupied with the work on his desk.
Ditching the scenery, I crossed the room and sat opposite him, immediately noticing an envelope on his desk that almost had my name on it.
Charlotte Blake-Décarie.
I wondered who’d decided to hyphenate my surname. I hadn’t even made that call yet. “Is that for me?” I asked, pointing to it. “Is that what you summoned me here for?”
“Yes, it is,” he confirmed, smiling the killer Décarie grin. My mind went in to overdrive, imagining what was in the envelope. Divorce papers, perhaps? Maybe he planned to dangle me by my ankles from his office window until I agreed to sign them. Or money. That seemed more like the Décarie style. He was about to try paying me off. I wondered how much he thought it would take to get me out of his son’s life.
Being constantly on my guard was beginning to take its toll. I sank back in my chair and stared at the patriarch of the most evil family on earth. “I don’t want it. I’m not taking it.”
“Charli, I –”
“Please, please just stop this,” I begged. “I love Adam. I came from the other side of the world to be with him. Surely that proves that my intentions are good.”
Jean-Luc pushed his chair back slightly, putting more space between us. He didn’t seem angered or offended by my outburst, just confused. “Who doubts your intentions?”
I groaned at his stupid play at obliviousness. “I’m so much smarter than you all give me credit for but I don’t want to fight with you people anymore.” The words hitched in my throat and I fought against crying. Even I was worried that I was having some kind of breakdown. I buried my face in my hands, wishing I’d stayed in bed that morning.
“Charlotte, what is wearing you down?” he asked gently.
Jean-Luc Décarie was a lawyer at the very top of his game. I was probably the easiest hostile witness he’d ever cross-examined. I was so beaten down, I would have told him anything he wanted to know.
I forced myself to lift my head and look at him. “I just want to love your son. I shouldn’t have to fight his family for the right to do that.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” he agreed. “My wife took it upon herself to draw some very unreasonable lines in the sand.”
“Look, I realise I’m seriously flawed. I don’t have the education or the upbringing you wanted Adam’s wife to have. And I’m certain you didn’t even want him to have a wife at twenty-two, but I love him. I can’t even begin to tell you how much – “
“I understand that, Charlotte – “
“No, you don’t.” I shook my head, drumming my finger on his desk. “I’ve given up everything to be with him. I haven’t seen the ocean in months… and I miss the ocean. I miss my father dreadfully. For the time being, I’ve given him up too. And yet as long as I have Adam, I’m still ahead.”
Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head while he mulled over my rant. I didn’t care whether I’d managed to change his opinion of me or not. At least I was putting up a good fight. “Would you like to know what’s in the envelope?”
“You mean, would I like to know how much is in the envelope?”
He laughed loudly, in a way that reminded me of Adam. “Do you think I’m about to try paying you off? Oh, dear girl, your opinion of me is incredibly low.”
“You haven’t given me much to work with.”
He smiled slowly. “I see what my sons see in you.”
It bothered me that he referenced both sons, but I let it slide. “Please, just tell me what’s in the envelope.”
He picked it up and dropped it in front of me. I wasted no time, roughly tearing it open to access the letter inside. Jean-Luc explained it before I’d even got through reading it. “Your visa has been approved,” he announced. “I pulled a few strings.” Bizarrely, I began to sob as if I’d just found out I was being deported. “My son’s happiness is paramount to me, Charli,” he said, pulling a black silk handkerchief from his pocket and thrusting it at me. “My wife didn’t handle the situation well, but her priorities are the same as mine.” I nodded but said nothing, prompting him to continue. “I implore you to work this out.”
“I’ll try,” I promised, eliciting another brilliant smile from him.
“Outstanding.”
***
I’d been home for over an hour before Adam arrived. Too antsy to show any form of restraint, I hurled myself at him the second the door opened, flinging my arms around his neck and hitching my legs around his waist. He groaned, but the protest was weak. He responded to the ambush by kissing me, just as urgently as I’d thrown myself at him. By the time he’d walked us down to the end of the short hallway, we were in danger of never speaking again.
“Stop for a second,” I breathed, giving no indication that that was what I really wanted him to do.
“Stop what?” he murmured, kicking the bedroom door open with his foot.
“Adam, please. It’s important.”
He surrendered by dropping me on the bed in a messy heap. I took a few seconds to try and steady my breathing. His tactics were a little different. He paced around the bedroom, ruffling his hands through his dark hair, trying to pull himself together. “What could be more important that this?”
I doubted I was in any fit state to answer him. I held the letter out to him.
Adam grabbed it and quickly read through before tossing it aside and lunging forward. I couldn’t have escaped if I’d wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to.
“So, you’re stuck with me,” I told him, murmuring the words into his ear.
“It’s a mutual predicament, Charlotte,” he breathed.