Chateau Michaud, Dining/Bar: Damien's Coming Out

[The Exodus]

The usual dining room of Chateau Michaud seats twelve comfortably, however, tonight, the other half of the ballroom has been re-purposed as a dining room and bar area. The sleek, cherry-wood bar is a dark, inviting contrast to the white marble floors and white-trimmed windows. Though the speciality of the house is wine, a bartender has been hired for the night to create all sorts of concoctions. Dinner is provided from a local caterers, and includes a wide-array of options. The tables are circular with multi-colored ribbion table-runners overlaying the white linen. Guests may choose where to sit.

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Natalie wished Lucian had picked anywhere else in France for Damien’s coming out party. The man had deeper pockets than most and some amount of innovation, but instead of renting a hotel space or a private terrace in one of the city’s beautiful parks, he just set up the party at his vineyards. It was such a cheap move. Typical, unsurprising; it lacked flair. As Natalie meandered through the crowd, she couldn’t help but think that maybe her ex-husband did this on purpose to spite her. She wouldn’t put it past him; psychological warfare was in the job description for a politician.

Of course, it could have been paranoia on Natalie’s part. She had canceled the planned press coverage, resigned herself to be a pillar of support rather than subterfuge. And now that she was actually here, she almost regretted that decision.

Not because of Damien. When she saw him, held him in her arms, she knew she did the right thing. He looked so relieved to see her and practically melted in her arms. He shook, as though holding in a laugh or a sob and apologies tumbled off his lips.

“Mummy, I didn’t mean… I didn’t want… I know, it’s a lot. And I didn’t mean to accuse you or snap or…”

“Hush, sweetheart,” she said, stroking his cheek. “I’m sorry. For the Ashton thing, for messing things up for you and Chris, for everything.”

“Forget Ashton and Chris,” Damien told her, smiling. “You’ve gotta meet Toddy. You’ll love him!”

She’d met Toddy St. James and about a thousand other people in the following minutes as Damien introduced her to his friends, coworkers, and “second family”. The names were a dizzying blur in Natalie’s mind; she wouldn’t remember half of these people if she ran into them on the street. Others she saw were familiar faces: the MaCarthy siblings, Pierre, Teresa. It astonished her, watching Damien greet them all with hugs and handshakes and impeccable memory of what they were all up to these days. She wouldn’t tell him, lest he take it the wrong way, but for a moment, he looked very much like twenty-three year old Lucian at their wedding reception, working the crowd with a social dexterity Natalie would never have expected. It was reassuring to know that if he had to get something from his father, that Damien had gotten his schmoozing skills. It would take him places.

“Mummy,” Damien said after a round of introductions. “Do you think you’ll be all right on your own for a bit? I need to go check on the desserts; the caterers are doing them in the kitchen.”

Natalie assured him she’d be fine and watched as her son disappeared through the large double doors that led to the rest of the chateau. Now, utterly alone in a sea of people she barely knew, Natalie couldn’t help but to look for the one person she had yet to catch up with properly.

Lucian wasn’t hard to spot. He sat at one of the circular tables with a glass of wine and Matvey Kaminski, talking about something or another that had both men in rapt fascination. Natalie stared at them for a moment and she blinked to clear her head. She was shocked at how different Lucian looked from the last time she had seen him.

“So, that’s it, you’re really leaving?” she asked, leaning up against the door to Lucian’s mostly-empty study. They’d been fighting all of yesterday and then during the night, he’d packed everything in determined silence. Natalie hadn’t slept either, but rather, watched her husband move on autopilot through the house.

“What else would you have me do?” Lucian asked. His eyes were droopy; the folds along his jowls more severe. “Besides. It’ll be better for you and that Walden fellow.”

“Anthony,” Natalie murmured. “Walden’s his last name.”

“Oh, forgive me if I’m not on a first-name basis with the man who is f*cking my wife,” Lucian said mildly. He clicked his briefcase shut. “Look. That didn’t come out right.”

“No, it did,” said Natalie.

“No, I’m sorry,” Lucian said. “That was harsh. I mean, you said you loved him. ”

“Yes, I said that…”

“And you do love him,” Lucian said firmly. “I hope you’re happy. Both of you.”

“Luc…”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, as though the name burned his ears. Then, sighing, he said, “I’m going to Paris. That house I bought last year. I paid for it; I want it. You can have this place in the divorce. I’ll get that in writing for you.”

“Lucian…”

“No, really, it’s all right…” he continued. “I want you to keep it. Wiltshire’s home for you and Damien. He deserves a place to call home.”

“He does.” Natalie bowed her head. She didn’t mention that the house had been Lucian’s childhood home, too. She felt a little ashamed, taking it from him.

“And… so… This is goodbye.”

He looked up at her. In the grey morning light, Natalie could pick out the silver strands in Lucian’s dark hair, count the lines on his forehead. He looked old and frail and broken. She reminded herself that she had unblemished Anthony. Not quite half Lucian’s age, but stronger, happier, more successful. She nodded and made her face steely.

“Yeah. Have a good flight.”

She watched him through the window; his black suit and car against the slushy November snow.


It was hard to believe the man at the table was the same one she’d known for twenty-five years. He looked somehow younger, handsomer. There were fewer lines than Natalie remembered; his blue eyes blazed with some hidden mirth. She watched him silently, not daring to approach the table. She’d ruin the moment and the Lucian she missed and loved would be gone, in favor of that spineless, bitter and broken man who’d whimpered out of her life.

But after a moment or two, Matvey looked her way uneasily and clapped Lucian on the back before getting up and going across the room to where Benjamin was telling a story to a group of Damien’s French coworkers. Lucian seemed unaffected by his solitude, but instead perused his menu absently. He still looked relaxed and happy in ways Natalie hadn’t seen him since politics ground the joy out of him. Her chest hurt with acute wanting. She wanted him—the him he seemed to be now, the him he was fifteen years ago—and she wanted to be celebrating tonight as a family, as they ought to have been. Damien deserved to have his parents beaming at him in a show of solidarity. He deserved to have his mummy and daddy both at his future wedding—whether it was to this Toddy man he was currently gaga for or any other man he set his sights on. And Lucian and Natalie deserved to be happy. Didn’t they? Natalie wasn’t sure about that one. She hadn’t been happy in ages, though, and she wished she was. She took a deep, bracing breath and plastered a smile to her lips before sauntering to the mostly-empty table.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked.

--

Lucian Michaud

Lucian looked up, stunned at the familiar voice. Natalie stood there, smiling at him and gesturing to the chair Matvey had just vacated. Something in his stomach coiled. He’d just been talking wedding planners with Matvey, comparing notes and proposal anecdotes, and now here was his ex-wife, asking to sit with him. Lucian scoured the room, just beyond Natalie’s shoulder for Ashton, who was being cooed over—or lectured by, Lucian couldn’t tell—by Mildred MaCarthy. He smiled at his pregnant fiancée, as though she could see him from across the room and gathered his courage from the knowledge that he had Ashton. He could be civil to his ex-wife for her sake, and their son’s, and for Damien’s sake. He could continue being a man worthy of their love if he could just be the bigger person and not start fights. He looked back at Natalie, smile still intact.

“No,” he said, pushing it out for her with his foot. “You’re welcome to it.”

He contemplated getting up and leaving once Natalie sat down, but instead, stayed put. Damien would just about kill him if he thought Lucian was being rude to his mummy.

“How’ve you been?” Lucian asked.

“I’ve been better,” Natalie said lightly. She settled into her seat. “But how have you been? You look…”

“Like a right mess, I’ll reckon,” Lucian said with a laugh, picking up his wine glass. He’d been planning the party, organizing wedding ideas with Ashton, visiting their prenatal doctor once every two weeks, working, and a zillion other things. Sometimes, Lucian forgot whether he slept or not.

“God, no!” Natalie said. Then, tingeing a faint pink, murmured, “I was going to say you look… well. Handsome.”

Lucian struggled to swallow his wine and he looked at Natalie over the top of it suspiciously.

“Thank you,” he said. “You look nice yourself. Did you bring that Walden man you were seeing?”

“Anthony and I aren’t together anymore.”

“I see,” Lucian said. He set down the wine glass and tried to decide if that informed Natalie’s choice to approach him. He narrowed his eyes slightly. Why be her second choice when he was Ashton’s first? “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was a long time coming,” said Natalie. She wiggled her fingers like it was nothing; maybe it was. Lucian tried to read her, but found that he scarcely knew the woman next to him. All he knew was that Natalie usually had an angle. It was what had made her an invaluable asset to his campaigns and positively irresistible when she’d wanted something and Lucian was younger and still wrapped around her finger. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“Funny you should ask,” Lucian said, smiling. “I met someone in Paris, actually.”

“You what?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Or, rather… I reconnected with a friend. A girl I knew from before.”

Natalie laughed. “Not possible.”

“Why not?”

“I was your first.”

“You were,” Lucian agreed. “I meant before a girl I knew before I moved to Paris. Not an old flame… A friend.”

“A friend?” Natalie asked. Her golden eyebrow hiked high up her smooth forehead.

“Oh, she’s much more than that these days,” Lucian said, enjoying the look of horror on Natalie’s face. “But enough about me. What have you been doing?”
“I… I… I’ve been…”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Mingling and making polite conversation was something Ashton excelled at. A life of entertaining had proved to be worth more than Henry let on. And right now, it had made her a new friend at Damien’s coming out party.

Mildred MaCarthy was a God-send. Being motherless for seven years now, Ashton had no one to go to to ask what “crowning” was and what it felt like, to ask for tips to help get rid of colic (whatever that was), to ask for the secret of a happy thirty year marriage. And Mildred was incredible—kind, welcoming. After just ten minutes with the woman and they were already exchanging phone numbers and pregnancy horror stories. They were talking like old friends.

And her husband was nothing short of amazing. He was quieter than Mildred, but when Ashton heard him talk, he spoke proudly of his children, of his wife, of his pen collection.

“Please,” Ashton blurted out, “be a part of my family!”

Mildred laughed. Surely she had heard that before. ”Dear, your family loves you, and with good reason. You have my phone number now, so if you ever need anything, ring me.”

“Oh! Most definitely!”

“And I wish you and Lucian both the best of luck! Lord knows you both deserve that after what you two’ve been through.” And it made Ashton believe her.

“Thank you! And I wish you the best of luck with your son, Ben…” Ashton said, glancing just past Mildred’s round shoulders to see her second eldest son through his muddy feet on the dining table, exclaiming that he could drink Gimpy under the table. The younger boy, ‘Gimpy’ turned red and hid his face behind his menu.

“Thank you, kindly, but we’ll need more than luck.”

“More like a tranquilizer gun,” chimed Artie, Mildred’s taciturn spouse.

Ashton laughed loudly as Mildred batted sternly at him. [/b]“Dear, the best parenting advice I can give you is do the opposite of what we did with Ben.”[/b]

“Duly noted,” Ashton said, smile still wide.

”What are you naming him?” Artie asked, Irish tinting his words.

“Gregory James. It seemed the best fit.”

”That’s just wonderful!” Artie said, clapping his hands together, sloshing a shower of red wine and glass everywhere.

“Arthur! Oh, heavens! Look what you did.” Mildred put her face in her hands.

“Oh,” Ashton said, still amused, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this.”

She scurried off to the noisy, caterer-filled kitchen to fetch a damp towel. She brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and tucked it hastily behind her ear, running out of the kitchen.

But she stopped mid-stride and smiled excitedly. She needed to tell Lucian about this wonderful woman. If Damien knew her, surely he did. She approached her fiancé anxiously, wrapping her arms lovingly around Lucian, baby bump providing him with a make shift head rest. “Darling, this woman, Mildred-- have you met her?—gave me her number. God, she’s a sweetheart. Definitely putting her on the guest list.” Ashton looked up for was intended to be a brief second. But her eyes locked with very familiar ones just a few feet away. Natalie. “Oh!” She forced a smile. “Hi…”

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Natalie fumbled with her words and for a moment, Lucian felt bad for her. Here he was, not quite a year from separation, and his life had reconfigured itself nicely. Natalie’s life was still a few puzzle pieces short of a full picture. He almost considered telling her to forget about it and turning the conversation to something they still had in common: Damien. He was just about to ask if Natalie had met their son’s new boyfriend or if she’d yet stopped by the Moulin Rouge to see some of his costume designs, but a pair of soft arms twined around him before he could speak. And Natalie melted away for a moment as Lucian shut his eyes instinctively, enjoying the warm, soft feel of Ashton.

“Darling, this woman, Mildred-- have you met her?—gave me her number,” Ashton said excitedly. “God, she’s a sweetheart. Definitely putting her on the guest list.”

Lucian almost laughed out loud and told her that he’d known Mildred a long time already, that she was Bill’s mum and often his co-conspirator in coordinating Damien’s childhood play-dates. But before any of those words could find sound, Ashton tensed up behind him. Something in the air had changed.

“Oh!” Ashton said, as if she’d just noticed something or someone. “Hi…”

And then Lucian realized who she was talking to: Natalie. He’d forgotten she was there. He looked over at her uneasily and saw that her usually pretty face had gone rather reptilian. Her lips were crushed together in a thin line; her nostrils flaring and her eyes little more than slits. Lucian wanted to dive under the table, out of view, and take Ashton with him. While it had once felt good to be cocky about their newfound romance, now it was just awkward. He didn’t even want to see what Ashton’s face had contorted into. He could feel the heat in the two women’s stares, probably at each other. Swallowing hard, Lucian looked from his fiancée to his ex-wife. A smile, crooked and a little rabid, stretched over his mouth. It was the sickly cousin of a smirk.

“Darling,” he said, addressing Ashton first. “You’ve met Damien’s mum, Natalie. Natalie… This is my fiancée, Ashton Greene.”

--

Natalie Blackwood

Natalie watched in horror as Ashton Greene wrapped her arms around Lucian. She’d run into the girl only days ago, so her pregnant stomach was no surprise. It tested the seams of her yellow dress and looked like a big, cartoonish sun under the fabric. For a full ten seconds, Natalie focused her gaze on Ashton’s baby bump, as if it could distract from the terrifying conversation unfolding before her.

“Darling, said Ashton, seemingly addressing Lucian. “This woman, Mildred-- have you met her?—gave me her number. God, she’s a sweetheart. Definitely putting her on the guest list.”

Lucian smiled at that and Natalie’s innards went queasy. Before Ashton said, “Oh! Hi…” in that awkward, unenthusiastic way, Natalie could easily guess what was coming. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to imagine for a moment that Lucian’s next words would actually be: “Darling, you’ve met Damien’s mum, Natalie. Natalie… This is my fiancée, Ashton Greene.” But they were. Natalie didn’t have to imagine. Lucian was actually introducing Ashton as his fiancée.

And to think that, only days ago, Natalie was offering up her sympathy to that little husband-stealing hussy.

Natalie’s lips twitched, as if she was going to smile or snarl, but nothing happened. She looked from Ashton to Lucian and then back again.

“She’s your what?” Natalie asked.

“Fiancée,” Lucian repeated. “We’ve been engaged for three weeks now.”

“And that’s yours, too,” Natalie said, almost incoherently, nodding at Ashton’s bulbous stomach.

Lucian blinked, as if a little stunned by the question. And then his lips twitched into a maddening half smile.

“You mean the baby,” he clarified. “Yes, he is.”

Natalie, who prided herself on cold control of her emotions couldn’t repress the tears that sprung up into her eyes at that answer. She didn’t know why she was crying. She and Lucian had been divorced for months; they hadn’t had sex in two—almost three—years. The last time they’d actively tried for a baby had been over a decade ago. It shouldn’t have mattered. But now, sitting here and staring at Ashton who was evidently pregnant by and happy with Lucian, Natalie could hear terms like “progesterone deficiency” and “RPL” roll around in her head. Her stomach cramped up and she could hear vaguely in the tinny distance of her mind, a younger and concerned Lucian asking her over the phone if he ought to drive home from London that night and if she’d taken anything for the nausea.; later, him holding her hair back and stroking between her shoulder blades, saying things like “But, Nat, we are a family. You, me, and Damien… That’s all we need. That’s perfect. You can’t keep blaming yourself if the treatments aren’t working. Sweetheart…” She couldn’t believe that Lucian was the same one sitting here now, building a second family months after getting rid of her. Perfect? Perfect?!?![/b] He’d lied. Either to Natalie or to Ashton or to himself or to Damien…

Damien.

That was Damien’s fiancée—former fiancée, anyways—that Lucian had impregnated and proposed to. That was the girl that Anthony helped Natalie handpick for Damien. The wispy little blonde dancer with a stick-straight body and big feet and that stupid, boyish laugh that Natalie had prayed would appeal to her son on some level. The awkward girl who smiled tightly, listlessly in their dining room, but who seemed to light up when Lucian offered some semi-pathetic anecdote of better days. The one who snuck off with him at the engagement party a full year ago to play guitar and sing and snog and god-knows-what-else… Why hadn’t Natalie seen this coming? Why hadn’t Damien? Did Damien and he just accepted it? How could Damien even look his father in the eye? How could he stand there and say, “At least Dad is making an effort” when all Lucian had done was steal Damien’s fiancée, knock her up, and throw Damien a party to make up for it? To make up for replacing them?

“Well, you’re getting what you always wanted,” she hissed. “The pretty, proper trophy wife, a son to carry on your stupid wine-royalty line… if he’s not gay, that is.”

“Natalie!” Lucian paused and then lowered his voice. “That’s not it at all. I love Ashton. And I love Damien.”

Natalie snorted.

“You love him so much you had to take his one chance for a normal life,” she said.

“Being gay and being normal are not mutually exclusive.” Lucian folded his hands on the table. “Damien can have a perfectly normal life with Toddy or whomever. It’s his choice.”

“Being gay isn’t a choice,” Natalie protested. “Damien said it wasn’t.”

“No, but who he spends the rest of his life with is. And if he had to marry Ashton because you or Henry or whoever said so, that’s not much of a choice for either of them—“

“You chose her.”

“I did. I do.” Lucian shook his head. “But Damien didn’t. He shouldn’t be forced to choose anyone.”

“I didn’t force him!”

“You set them up! It’s the same principle.”

Natalie went quiet. Her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth as she remembered why divorcing Lucian had been a good idea. He lived in this rose-colored world where consequences weren’t real; where he could always overcome adversity. It wasn’t practical. Too idealist. It was a wonder he lasted at all in politics, in retrospect. Natalie looked away from him and to Ashton. The poor girl, really, getting Lucian at the end of all this. Lucian, who clearly hadn’t learned anything from his marriage to Natalie. After all, Ashton was certainly more than three weeks pregnant. Natalie wondered how long it would be before Lucian got dissatisfied with the little family he was creating with Ashton. How many lonely nights would the girl spend, waiting for him to come home from the office? Would she be raising her son on her own, or would Lucian at least have the decency to do for this child what he’d done for Damien: care about him even after he stopped caring about the mother? Or pretend to care. No matter what Lucian said nor what Damien did, stealing Ashton from Damien had “immoral” written all over it. How much of Ashton was victim in this? How much was accomplice?

“What does Damien think of you two, anyways?”

“It took some adjusting, but he’s used to us,” Lucian said, finally having the decency to flush pink about the ears with what Natalie could only assume to be shame.

“And the baby? What does he think about that?”

The pink went away and Lucian actually smiled. Natalie wanted to scratch it off with her nails.

“He’s excited,” said Lucian. “That I know. He even painted the nursery for him.”

“You didn’t make Damien do that, did you?”

“No. I don’t force my children to do things they don’t want to.”

Natalie inhaled sharply.

“I just want what’s best for him,” she said. “Is that so hard for you to believe?”

“No, I believe you,” Lucian said, sounding thoroughly unconvincing. “I just don’t think you know what’s best for him.”

“Oh, enlighten me then,” Natalie snapped. “Since clearly you are the expert.”

“I didn’t say that,” Lucian said. “I just meant neither of us knows what’s “best” for him. Only he does.”

“That’s terrible parenting,” Natalie said. Then, looking at Ashton, “For your baby’s sake, I hope you have an ounce of more common sense than Lucian. Otherwise, that child will be allowed to get into all kinds of trouble.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“Darling, you’ve met Damien’s mum, Natalie. Natalie… This is my fiancée, Ashton Greene.”

Ashton had dreamed of this moment. In her dream, Natalie’s face melted into a pool of jealousy whilst Ashton and Lucian locked lips and spoke about their family and future together. This was nothing like that moment. Ashton could feel the tension rising in the air with each puzzle piece Natalie clicked together. She could see that the picture Natalie was getting was disturbing to her, and Ashton felt the bottom of her stomach drop out—this was not at all what sweet revenge was supposed to taste like. It tasted bitter and a wave of nausea flooded over her. She could only imagine how Lucian felt.

“She’s your what?” Natalie asked half dumbly. Ashton caught sight of the glittering engagement ring and smiled.

“Fiancée,”Lucian repeated.“We’ve been engaged for three weeks now.”

That’s right, b*tch, Ashton thought, smirking mentally, her real smile faint and secure on her lips. I got the better deal. That’s what happens when you mess with the best thing to ever happen to you, you sl*t But Ashton said none of this. Other than the fact Lucian would surely say “Ashton!” in that not quite amused, not quite appalled scolding voice of his, this was Damien’s party. He deserved to be surrounded by people who loved him and lavished him with attention, not turned on each other like hungry hyenas. Ashton would force civility for his sake.

“And that’s yours, too,” Ashton placed one hand on her stomach, ever protruding like a giant egg yolk beneath her yellow sun dress where Gregory nestled away, unaware that daddy was arguing with his ex-wife or that mummy was being sent invisible projectiles and misses from Natalie’s cold, angry eyes.

“You mean the baby,”he clarified.“Yes, he is.” Lucian responded and Ashton couldn’t be sure if that was pride or bitterness in his voice.

“Well, you’re getting what you always wanted,” she hissed. “The pretty, proper trophy wife, a son to carry on your stupid wine-royalty line… if he’s not gay, that is.” Ashton felt like she was being forced to watch a ghostly imprint of a scene she wasn’t supposed be privy to. She bit her tongue and could feel Lucian’s shoulders tense up. She slid her hands on them, massaging them gently, comfortingly. It took her back to their dining room on a March morning. Lucian sat there, pen in hand, his eyes scales weighing what signing those divorce papers would mean. And Ashton just stood there, watching helplessly as the man she loved struggled to tie up the loose ends of the vestiges of his marriage. She just stood there, hands on his shoulders, silently telling him that she was there, supporting him in whatever happened. She bit deeply into her tongue as Natalie’s words finally hit her, stinging her like a million wasps. She wasn’t a trophy wife, Lucian wasn’t looking to set up a legacy. He didn’t want to fix whatever he may of seen as shortcomings. …Right?

Ashton could feel the metallic liquid squelch and fill her mouth before trickling down her throat. She gulped down the bitter red as if it was a medicine.

And something knotted in her stomach telling her that Natalie, who was married to him for 23 years was onto something.

“Natalie! That’s not it at all. I love Ashton. And I love Damien.” A smile flickered across Ashton’s face at Lucian’s words. She was inclined to believe Lucian over Natalie, especially when about his own feelings. She relaxed a little, rubbing at the intersection between his shoulders and neck.

“You love him so much you had to take his one chance for a normal life,” she said.

It was like watching an aggressive table tennis match.

“Being gay and being normal are not mutually exclusive. Damien can have a perfectly normal life with Toddy or whomever. It’s his choice.” came Lucian’s stern, but surprisingly placid reply.

“Being gay isn’t a choice,” Natalie protested. “Damien said it wasn’t.”

“No, but who he spends the rest of his life with is. And if he had to marry Ashton because you or Henry or whoever said so, that’s not much of a choice for either of them—“

Lucian, like always, came to the rescue. Ashton felt herself relax as her fingers worked at knotted nobs on his back, pulling away tension.

“You chose her.”

“I did. I do.”

I do… Ashton could listen to him say those words again and again.

Until he shook his head. What did that head shake mean? Ashton felt like a fool reading too far into it. But then, perhaps it would be foolish not to. The look on Natalie’s face made her wonder if she should have thought about Lucian’s words, his actions, everything before now. Where would she be? Where would he be? She looked at her engagement ring and felt the flutter of life inside her, not wanting to know how much truth was in Natalie’s expression.

Ashton realized she had tuned out.

“For your baby’s sake, I hope you have an ounce of more common sense than Lucian. Otherwise, that child will be allowed to get into all kinds of trouble.”

“I believe how Lucian and I parent our children is our business, Natalie. With all due respect, keep out of it. And in the process, please don’t insult my fiancé’s intelligence. After all, Damien is half of him.” Ashton was relatively proud of her level voice. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. MaCarthy spilled some wine. I told them I’d clean it up.” Ashton gave Lucian’s shoulder’s one last feeble squeeze. “I’ll see you later, darling. Natalie…” Ashton gave a polite nod.

Silently, she cursed herself as she cleaned up glass and wine for being so diplomatic. She wanted nothing more than to give Natalie a piece of her mind before the woman could contort and convince it of things Ashton was supposed to know weren’t true. Surely she and Lucian could sort it all out later.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

“For your baby’s sake, I hope you have an ounce of more common sense than Lucian,” said Natalie. “Otherwise, that child will be allowed to get into all kinds of trouble.”

“I believe how Lucian and I parent our children is our business, Natalie,” Ashton said with shocking calm. “With all due respect, keep out of it. And in the process, please don’t insult my fiancé’s intelligence. After all, Damien is half of him. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. MaCarthy spilled some wine. I told them I’d clean it up.” Ashton gave Lucian’s shoulder’s one last feeble squeeze. “I’ll see you later, darling. Natalie…”

Ashton walked away and Lucian groaned.

“Why?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Why did you have to say anything to her?”

Natalie shrugged and smiled.

“Why did you have to choose her?” she asked in a blithe, mocking tone. “You just couldn’t help yourself.”

“I chose her because she’s the best woman I’ve ever known,” Lucian said. His voice was low; it scared him how fierce of a growl it was. “I chose her because I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone, except maybe Damien. And Gregory… The baby. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He stood up. The chair scraped on the marble screechily, unceremoniously.

“Have a good night, Natalie.”

--

Natalie Blackwood

“You b*stard!” Natalie rasped at Lucian as he began to walk away. “You lying, awful b*stard! What were the last twenty-five years to you then? Some kind of joke?”

“No,” said Lucian, not turning around to face her. He kept walking.

“Well, what were they?”

“I don’t know, Natalie… Training?” Lucian looked around the crowded room.

“Excuse me?!” Natalie’s voice rose higher in volume and in pitch. “Did you just say training?”

“Bad joke; I apologize,” Lucian said, not sounding very sorry at all. He sighed and turned around, no longer walking. “Look, Natalie. You were my first love. And you are the mother of my eldest son. And maybe that’s all we should have been to each other. Maybe we would have been smarter to divorce a long time ago. I don’t know. What I do know is that Ashton makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in years. And some day, maybe you’ll find someone who makes you feel again.”

He looked like he might reach over and squeeze Natalie’s arm or something. She sneered at him and pulled away.

“Listen to you,” she hissed. “Still giving political speeches, like you know everything. You don’t know anything about my life.”

“I don’t?” Lucian murmured. “Enlighten me.”

“I’d been with Anthony six years by the time you found out,” Natalie said, puffing her chest out a little, clinging desperately to her pride.

“Oh.”

“That’s all you’re going to say? “Oh”?”

“There’s nothing else to say,” said Lucian. He was back to looking around the room distractedly. “Will you excuse me, a minute? I need to find Ashton.”

“You don’t care? You really don’t care?”

“I used to. But I’m past it. You should be, too.”

They were standing in the middle of the dining room. Servers wooshed past them with silver trays of hors d’oeuvres and bottles of wine. A few people stopped by and said passing “hellos” to Lucian, which he returned with a smile, nod and a “So glad you could come!” as if he wasn’t in the middle of an argument with Natalie. She’d always admired that about him, grudgingly. She’d also always hated that about him because it meant she was never quite the center of Lucian’s attention. She wondered if he did that to Ashton now. Probably not. She was young and pretty still; he probably doted upon her. Never mind that she had a meager talent for the arts and appreciated Lucian’s inept guitar playing. They probably fawned over each other sickeningly the way Lucian once lavished attention on her when they were first dating. He would probably always cherish Ashton, even when she, like Natalie, left him behind to get old without her. The thought of Lucian in thirty years being left behind by the then-fifty year old Ashton didn’t ease Natalie’s conscience any, but rather, reminded her that they’d been meant to grow old together in this city. Lucian had promised Natalie that. Regardless of her affair, regardless of their divorce, didn’t he owe her at least something of that?

“Go to hell,” she snapped, when she realized she was out of words and too tired to tell him how she really felt. A few people looked their way, shocked at the indelicate language.

“I hope you feel better, Natalie,” Lucian said mildly, his blue eyes round and wide. “And I hope one day, you let someone love you as much as you need them to. Enjoy the party.”

--

Lucian Michaud

Lucian spotted Ashton across the room. She stood with the MaCarthys, just as she had been earlier in the night. Artie was dabbing at his shirt, trying to get wine stains out ineffectually, while Mildred wrapped a plump arm around Ashton’s shoulders and held her tightly. A smile, in spite of everything, pulled on Lucian’s lips as he watched his fiancée. When he told Natalie that he loved Ashton more than anything, he hadn’t lied. Now, staring at her, he could feel this impenetrable bubble swell up in his stomach and float into his chest. Mingled relief, adoration, and security warmed him. If Natalie had more to say, it fell upon deaf ears and Lucian zig-zagged through the crowd to the woman he loved. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed Ashton’s lips fully; Mildred’s arm rolled gently off of her. Ashton felt so soft, so warm, so real to Lucian in this moment. Natalie would never have that. As far as Lucian knew, she didn’t know how to love someone the way he loved Ashton and maybe she never would. He pitied her, the same, detached way he pitied orphans and stray animals on the 2 AM infomercials: it was sad, but he would still sleep soundly tonight, perhaps a little more thankful than he was before. Lucian smiled out of the kiss, but lingered near her ear to murmur, “Wonderfully handled, my love” before smiling at their friends.

“Not scaring Ashton too much about parenting with Ben stories, are you, Mildred?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene


“Here, let me help you with that,” Artie MaCarthy said, crouching down to help Ashton pick away crystal clear shards of glass and dab at the purpley red wine stain.

She hadn’t even realised he was there until the glass was clear, pocketed by Artie. She wiped the tears of frustration from her eyes and sniffled, jumping at the sight of him. “Oh! Thank you…”

“Dearie,” Mildred said, helping her up. “You’re upset. What’s wrong? Come here.”

Mildred pulled Ashton to her, crushing her against her soft, large bosom. That was all she needed was to be away from Natalie’s poisonous words, save and protected in a mother’s arms, even if that mother wasn’t her own. She felt like a teenage girl crying over a petty mean girl’s words about her boyfriend.

She could still hear Natalie, screaming away shrilly at Lucian. Ashton shouldn’t have waked away. She should have stayed there and been a support for Lucian, regardless of how hurt Natalie made her feel. That shouldn’t have gotten in the way.

What if she made a terrible wife? What if she was far too young and immature to be a good mother? Would Lucian still love her when life and responsibilities and consequences came into play on their blissful, reckless jungle gym of love making and freedom?

But when she felt a familiar arm wrap protectively around her, she knew they would somehow be alright, that that world they dreamt up beneath they gossamer architecture of a pillow and blanket fort would one day very soon become a reality. Everything they worked and hoped for was finally theirs, no matter what Natalie said.

Lucian pulled her into a full and deep kiss before smiling out to say “Wonderfully handled, my love.”

Mildred smiled at her knowingly.

“Not scaring Ashton too much about parenting with Ben stories, are you, Mildred?”

Mildred laughed and Artie looked up. “No, no. No need to embarrass Matvey further with such stories. Speaking of which, I should see how they’re doing. They’re supposed to be moving tables, but if I know Ben, which I do, he’s distracted Matvey into doing something ridiculous like uprooting plants again. I’ll see you two.” She grabbed Artie by the shirt and dragged him, plate and all in search for their son.

“I love you,” she said, smoothing at the lapel on his tuxedo. “And I’m sorry your ex-wife is such a b*tch. Please tell me there aren’t any other crazy exes I have to look out for.”

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Mildred assured Lucian that, no, she wasn’t scaring Ashton with horrific stories of Ben’s childhood (and they were horrific, if you asked Lucian). But, on that note, she and Artie left in search for their second son, who was probably doing something as foolhardy as he would have ten years ago or more. This left Lucian and Ashton alone, finally, for the first time since the party started. Lucian felt as though the steel trap constricting his ribcage let up a bit and her could breathe again.

“I love you,” Ashton said, smoothing at the lapel on Lucian’s tuxedo. “And I’m sorry your ex-wife is such a b*tch. Please tell me there aren’t any other crazy exes I have to look out for.”

Lucian laughed and shook his head.

“Natalie is actually my only ex,” he confessed. “Only serious ex, anyways. I don’t count schoolyard crushes.”

When he said that out loud, Lucian realized that this was the one conversation he and Ashton had never really had. The natural thing would be to segue into a discussion of crazy ex-lovers or a lack thereof and a discussion about who it was acceptable to invite to the wedding and who it wasn’t. Lucian wondered if now and here were the appropriate time and place.

It’s not as though that’s worried anyone else tonight.

“Should I be worried about any of your ‘crazy exes’?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Lucian laughed and shook his head, but this time, his shaking head didn’t concern her, didn’t get her over thinking.

“Natalie is actually my only ex,” he confessed. “Only serious ex, anyways. I don’t count schoolyard crushes.”

That was both reassuring and surprising. It was a comfort to know that she wouldn’t need to buy a bullet prove vest when in other women’s company. But Ashton was stunned that Lucian, a man so romantic, so skilled and learned in the ways of love making, had only one serious relationship before her; and that was with the woman who chased him down and called him a b*stard.

“Should I be worried about any ofyour‘crazy exes’?”

Ashton bit her lip in thought. Perhaps they should have talked about this earlier. “None that you should worry about. Chances are, they won’t come cropping up into our lives, unless they’re asking for money.” Ashton said with half humour, half seriousness. One of them very well might call for money, call to apologise, call to want her back. But none of it mattered. If ever faced with the choice, she’d chose Lucian any day, would do anything for him. No ex, crazy or not, would change that. Ashton kissed him deeply.

She caught sight of Natalie, inching her way towards them over Lucian’s shoulder. She pulled away. “Let’s take this outside. I need the air.” Although the air was good for her, it was a little white lie to prevent another argument with Miss Blackwood.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Ashton was actually very lucky. Lucian’s pre-university romances had all been rather short-lived and none had been particularly serious: holding hands, a snog here and there, but no more than that. He’d been a teenager—and an awkward one at that—and he’d concerned himself with getting in a top tier university and with learning guitar more than he had with girls. Not that he hadn’t noticed anyone. Teenage Lucian had as many passing fancies as the next boy. But in his pre-politics days, he was less skilled with words and confidence both. In fact, paired with a set of what his mum affectionately called “Dumbo ears” and the nervous habit of talking either far too much or not nearly enough around strangers (pretty girls in particular) had shut down many of Lucian’s adolescent attempts at dating. That handful of successful attempts was immaterial now, thirty years after the fact. Lucian could look back at those days with a kind of horrified amusement and the few times he ran into his ex-girlfriend from those days, they greeted each other much the same way Lucian greeted his other school friends. Natalie had been Lucian’s first serious relationship and when it came to being a “crazy ex”, she was probably more bark than bite. After all, she hadn’t always been this shrieking harpy.

”What were the last twenty-five years to you then? Some kind of joke?”

He’d met her almost twenty-seven years ago, actually, but Natalie never remembered the Lucian she first met at nineteen. Likely with good reason. He was a bookwormy sort of boy then, one who was more people-watcher than people-person. They’d been sitting in a classroom learning philosophical theories of some school or another, but Lucian hadn’t paid much attention, except to the pretty girl in the second row. She was smart, probably smarter than he was—at least at philosophy—and she was constantly engaging the teacher in witty banter-fests. After each class, Lucian made it a goal to say something to her but instead, she was always chatting up the professor or otherwise engaged with a gaggle of friends. He missed that opportunity and the next, too, a little more than a year later when they took economics together. In this case, though, Lucian was excelling and Natalie—he’d learned her name incidentally by then—wasn’t. But she already had a tutor, paid for by her father, whose Keynesian theory was “so outdated, it was pathetic”. Lucian wanted to tell her the merits of Keynes, just to say something, but it was one of those classes taught by one of those professors who didn’t seem to be above corporeal punishment, even on young adults, as he carried around a wooden ruler when he spoke, smacking it into his palm every so often. Besides, Lucian was still trying to grow into his face and instead practiced his budding gift for words on less threatening girls. When he finally found the nerve to speak to Natalie, she rejected him. But not coldly. Rather, there was a flirtatious verve to her voice that told Lucian “no” might actually mean “maybe” in this case. He wasn’t sure what made him so persistent, but at the time, it had all seemed worth it. Natalie had been witty, clever. And he’d been right to think her smart that first time. And while she may have been more mercurial, moody, than Lucian anticipated, it had only seemed like a challenge at the time. In fact, even on a bad day when Lucian tried to recall those days, he couldn’t help but think the Natalie he knew in school was a much nicer Natalie than the one he married and the one he married was nicer still than the one he divorced. The deterioration had been slow; Lucian wasn’t sure when things had stopped being fun and loving between them, but there was little regret. He just wanted to know where they’d gone wrong so that he and Ashton could avoid a similar fate.

We’ll manage, Lucian thought, as he heard Natalie berating a waiter across the room. Over what, Lucian couldn’t be sure. He just couldn’t imagine Ashton doing the same thing.

But he knew nothing of her exes. And suddenly, Lucian felt very crowded, jostled by the realization that Ashton might have a single “crazy ex-boyfriend” the way Lucian had a “crazy ex-wife” or that there might be half a dozen former flames who still harbored feelings—any feelings at all—for Ashton. He wondered how many there were; he knew that his own number of exes was abnormally low, but he hoped there weren’t too many. He’d had to fight too much to get Ashton in the first place; he still had to face her father. An army of Ashton’s ex-boyfriends was the last thing Lucian wanted to face.

“None that you should worry about. Chances are, they won’t come cropping up into our lives, unless they’re asking for money.”

Lucian’s lips parted, ready to ask what that even meant, but Ashton mistook the expression as an invitation for a kiss. She pressed her lips to his and Lucian couldn’t help but kiss her back, forgetting for a moment what they’d been talking about in the first place.

“Let’s take this outside. I need the air.”

Lucian nodded and followed Ashton out of the dining room.