Itinéraires Bistro

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Talking to Natalie was like trying to talk to someone through a wall of ice. There was something cold between them, but it didn’t stop a distant conversation that had the potential to be warm and welcoming, melting and breaking the ice ever so slightly as that they might leave understanding each other better.

It was odd, the feeling Ashton was left with after interacting with Natalie. It wasn’t hate, but it was friction. It wasn’t love, but it was appreciation. Despite their differences, Natalie had helped to shape Lucian, put those scars on his heart and soul that made him uniquely him, that Ashton massaged away at to ease his pain. She thanked her silently. Just so long as they stayed talking about something they could agree on, Ashton could cup this feeling towards Natalie in her hands and sink a bittersweet kind of wisdom from it that she knew was helping to shape her, too. Appreciation, civility.

“He did his own room, Damien. We whitewashed the walls when he was eight and let him do whatever he wanted until the day he moved out.”

Ashton smiled at the memory and this little vision she got of Damien, paint covered and pre-pubescent, letting his mind spill over onto the canvas wall.

“I have no idea where he gets his knack for painting from. I mean, Miriam—Mary, Lucian’s mum-- used to run an art gallery, but that was before Damien was born, so maybe it’s genetic.”

There was a good chance it was. Ashton was a musician, Lucian, too. Maybe there was hope for little Greggy’s musical development. Gregory began to fuss, so Ashton shifted his position.

“What does it look like? The nursery?”

Ashton smiled. “It’s absolutely magnificent. It’s blue and geometric and… Here. I have picture.” Ashton pulled it up on her phone and handed it to Natalie, revealing the world of colors Damien had made available to his baby brother.

“Gregory seems to love it. Now that he can focus his eyes, he likes to look at all the pretty shapes and designs on the ceiling.” And Gregory cooed as if he was affirming her words. “Like I said, magnificent, isn’t it?”

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

She told herself she only wanted to see the nursery to see Damien’s handiwork, but Natalie knew that there was always an ulterior motive. It was true of everyone. She’d been raised by a businessman, studied law at Oxford, married a politician, had an affair with a solicitor. Natalie couldn’t afford to be ignorantly naïve. Not even about herself; she was forty-five years old and self-awareness came with the territory.

She was desperate for a glimpse into this new life Lucian had created for himself. In part for the man himself, but mostly because he’d gotten on with everything—the disintegration of their marriage in particular—and Natalie hadn’t. She was jealous. Madly, wildly jealous. Of Ashton, for getting a reformed, happy version of the man she’d always thought of as hers, but mostly of Lucian for his ability to not look back. He had a baby—two beautiful sons—and a fiancée half his age. His family business was blossoming under his supervision. Natalie was alone, except for Damien and her only income came from court settlements. Why was the world so much kinder to men? Why was Damien so much kinder to his dad? He’d grudgingly helped Natalie move into her flat, but from the sound of it, Damien volunteered to paint Gregory’s nursery. In fact, he’d leapt to the chance.

“It’s absolutely magnificent. It’s blue and geometric and… Here. I have pictures.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up, unashamed in their hunger. She felt utterly ravenous at the prospect of seeing this nursery, but she knew it wouldn’t fill her up. That weird craving would still be there, quieted only for a moment. She was shocked that she wasn’t salivating when Ashton handed her the phone.

The walls were awash with a light blue; Damien would have called it Maya blue. There were abstract designs, flowing and dark streaking the walls. Prussian blue, if she wasn’t mistaken. She scrolled through the pictures. The designs trailed around the room, up the walls, and across the ceiling.

“Gregory seems to love it. Now that he can focus his eyes, he likes to look at all the pretty shapes and designs on the ceiling.” And Gregory cooed as if he was affirming her words. “Like I said, magnificent, isn’t it?”

“My son, modern Michelangelo,” Natalie said, smiling. She could imagine Damien high up on a ladder, laying back with minimal scaffolding—horrifically minimal scaffolding to support him—as he painted the ceiling.

She moved to the next picture. In it, was a familiar, if whitewashed and empty rocking chair. Natalie’s smile faltered. The chair had been a gift from Lucian’s mother nearly twenty-five years ago when Damien was born. A family heirloom of sorts along Lucian’s maternal line. His great-uncle had made it for Lucian’s grandmother when she gave birth to her daughters. The youngest, Mary, had gotten it upon giving birth to Lucian. And when Natalie gave birth to Damien, she’d gotten the rocking chair.

And now it was Ashton’s.

Something like bile churned Natalie’s stomach. Who had given it to her? The girl never met Lucian’s parents, never got their blessings. What would they have thought of her, barely more than a girl, the same age as their only grandson, as a daughter-in-law? Alphonse would never have approved in a million years. Natalie remembered her late father-in-law as an honor-bound man. He was the only person she’d ever seen openly challenge her own father and win. And while he might have liked Ashton well enough, she could only imagine he would have made subtle digs at Lucian for cradle-snatching.

“I’m a grown man, Pere. I am capable of making my own decisions.”

“A grown man can restrain himself until after the wedding.”

Déjà vu. Natalie wondered if Mary would like Ashton any better than she’d liked Natalie.

“I wasn’t sure what to make of you at first. But you make my son happy. And you keep him on his toes.”

Would that preface of uncertainty be there still? Or would acceptance have come easily from the Michauds to Ashton?

That doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

After all, the rocking chair was being filled again, wasn’t it? Natalie resisted the urge to smash Ashton’s phone or to snoop through pictures other than those of the nursery. She wasn’t a masochist. She didn’t want to see Lucian holding his new baby or kissing Ashton or even smiling at the camera. She was jealous enough of their happiness. If she had to see too much proof of joy, she might crack. She resisted for a little while. Curiosity took over.

The next picture was one of Damien holding Gregory.

Natalie thrust the phone back to Ashton. Her eyes hurt, prickled, at the sight of her son with his brother. Half-brother.

“How is he with Gregory?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

There was a feeling of fear she felt grip around her intestines as Natalie flicked through the phone. It was a feeling Ashton tried to repress, knowing that Gregory, since his conception, could sense and feel every emotion Ashton felt, and could react to it. She didn’t want his beautiful pale eyes filling up with tears or his little heart to start pounding madly with fear at his mummy’s fear.

“My son, modern Michelangelo,” Natalie said with proud admiration at this selfless masterpiece of Damien’s. The pride in her voice shook Ashton, reminding her that Natalie was this extremely human woman, not some evil witch out to curse her growing family. It reminded Ashton that they were more similar than Ashton had ever dared to think. Her phone might as well of been Gregory, Natalie Ashton exclaiming how proud she was of this little boy she held in her hands. First and foremost, Natalie was a mother. Damien’s mother, who once probably applauded Damien’s independent use of the toilet, and was now applauding his growth into a talented, wonderful young man. Ashton realized she was smiling and staring at Natalie and looked away, occupying herself with wiping away at a splash of drivel at the corner of Gregory’s lips.

“How is he with Gregory?”

“Damien?” Ashton asked, trying not to sound stupid. “He’s surprisingly great. I didn’t think he’d be bad, just… bitter or ambivalent,” Much as he was during our engagement “but he loves him. He even offered to babysit for the entire time Lucian and I are on our honeymoon.”

Even as she said it, Ashton could feel the tension in the bistro rise, the temperature drop. Natalie probably didn’t want to hear about that; Ashton knew she wouldn’t if she were in Natalie’s weapon-like high heeled shoes. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, it’s just great seeing the two of them together. Just last week, Damien spent thirty minutes with him and when he went to go put him back in his crib, Gregory started crying and Damien had to pick him back up and play with him. Damien’s actually great with kids…” Finished, Ashton hoped that the miniature monologue was enough to cover up the awkward mention. Though there were few things Ashton loved to talk about more than her wedding plans, there was a time, place, and a company for everything. That was definitely a lesson she needed to learn soon.

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Of course Natalie wanted to hear that Damien was a wonderful big brother. She always thought he would be. Once, she and Lucian had flirted with adoption for the sole purpose of making Damien into a big brother. He loved all of Bill’s siblings—even Ben, although Natalie now understood more of the “why” to that one—and he was fantastically good with friends’ children. They hadn’t, in the end, adopted, because in the end, they were too tired from failed fertilization attempts and too distant from each other to be any kind of good parents to anyone, Damien included. Maybe now was better. For Damien and Lucian, if not for Natalie.

No. For Damien. Take Lucian out of the equation.

“Damien? He’s surprisingly great. I didn’t think he’d be bad, just… bitter or ambivalent but he loves him. He even offered to babysit for the entire time Lucian and I are on our honeymoon.”

No. There was no taking Lucian out of the equation. It was only a matter of time before he showed up—fashionably late, which was unlike him—and here he was, preparing for his honeymoon with a woman half his age. Natalie felt hollow through her throat all the way to her stomach. Lower, even. It was a wonder she wasn’t retching up dry heaves.

“Anyway, it’s just great seeing the two of them together. Just last week, Damien spent thirty minutes with him and when he went to go put him back in his crib, Gregory started crying and Damien had to pick him back up and play with him. Damien’s actually great with kids…”

In that moment, Ashton could have said Damien was terrible with children, that he kicked Gregory through a rugby goalpost and Natalie wouldn’t have heard her. She could have said Damien was a genius with kids, that he had already taught Gregory to recite the alphabet and count to ten in English and French and Slovenian, and Natalie wouldn’t have heard her.

Honeymoon. Lucian. Lucian was a father again. Soon, he was going to be a husband again. The thoughts had crossed her mind, but even steeling herself for it hadn’t prepared Natalie for how she felt now. She rested her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hands. She could imagine Lucian with Gregory so easily, because she’d seen him with Damien. How happy was he right now? How overjoyed? Relieved, even, to be rid of her and her useless, dusty womb? That had been when the real problems started, when Natalie was certain she couldn’t have another baby, couldn’t carry one to full term, anyways. She’d pushed him and when he got too distant, instead of pulling Lucian back, Natalie bolted into someone else’s arms. No risk if you couldn’t get pregnant. The husband will never know. Never even suspect. And maybe you’ll fill that void…

She didn’t. Never had. Maybe she never would. But Ashton had filled a void. One for Lucian, anyways. Honeymoon. They were getting married. How soon? Not that she’d go. God. He had everything. A fiancée. Two sons. A business, a home, friends. God. Everything.

Not everything.

“Are you planning to have any more children?” Natalie asked, not looking up. “You and Lucian.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Just when Ashton thought she had fixed her slip up in social graces, she realized Natalie wasn’t looking at her. Maybe she hadn’t done as good a job of patching it up as she thought. Okay, so she was no Lucian. Lucian, who was capable of making any awkward situation a good experience; Lucian, who was capable of making any social faux seem like a purposeful segue into something different and important. Not Ashton. Apparently, she failed at that.

She was just about to change the vein of this conversation entirely and talk about the incredible service this place had or the expected snowstorm coming their way. But Natalie beat her to the bunch, eyes fixated on the water ring stain on the table. “Are you planning to have any more children? You and Lucian.”

Ashton stopped, smiling to herself. They had planned their entire future together in that tent, and after Gregory was born, they had a small talk about it. “Of course,” Ashton said, “we’d have to talk to Damien first, make sure he’s okay with it, and maybe even Gregory if he’s old enough to help decide by that point,” Ashton cleared her throat a little. Honesty was the best policy. Who was Natalie that Ashton was worried about her feelings? She didn’t want to censor herself, lie for this woman. But the woman was human, after all, even if how many kids she and Lucian had wasn’t really any of her d*mn business. Ashton made her tone soft and gentle in hopes it would ease the blow. “I believe so. We’ve talked about it. Not right now, of course,” We can’t even have sex until the fourteenth of February, “But eventually.”

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Natalie looked at her hands. Her ring finger was still pale, sickly looking where her ring had once been. She wondered if the skin would ever be healthy again. The thought wouldn’t stop swimming in her head. Lucian, oblivious, excited, foolish Lucian, smiling at her twenty years ago.

“We’re pregnant again, Nat! Can you believe it? Two kids… A girl this time, maybe. One son, one daughter. Maybe more. Someday. God… Can you believe it?”

She couldn’t. She’d been right not to. But she hadn’t told Lucian her fears. Instead, her throat was scratchy and dry and she felt a dull ache in her pit that wasn’t the baby. The doctors said there ought not to be more children for Natalie, that a second pregnancy was unlikely; a full term baby even less likely. When she lost that baby—the fetus, doctors said—some two months later, she resolved not to tell Lucian if she got pregnant again. His cheeks had been ashy, tear-streaked, and she lied in bed, feigning sleep and feeling like death as he called his parents to tell them the news. She didn’t tell him about the next one (lost at 6 weeks) or the next (10 weeks) or the next (8 and a half weeks) or all the false positives that might have actually ended in miscarriages, too early to tell.

“I’ve always wanted a daughter,” he confessed (painfully, Natalie thought) one night, years later while they were watching Teresa for a weekend. “Daddy’s little princess and all that. I think of my mum and my aunt or you and your sisters and I think I would just about lose all my resolve if we had a daughter.”

She wondered if Lucian was still on that quest for a daughter, the opposite of dynasty-seekers. Did he and Ashton even discuss the possibility? Evidently, discussed or not, children were a viable option.

“Of course,” Ashton said, “we’d have to talk to Damien first, make sure he’s okay with it, and maybe even Gregory if he’s old enough to help decide by that point,” Ashton cleared her throat a little. “I believe so. We’ve talked about it. Not right now, of course, but eventually.”

“I wish you the best of luck,” Natalie said, looking up suddenly. “Children are a gift.”

Her eyes flicked to Gregory, mistily. She didn’t feel like she was looking at what ought to be her sworn enemy’s child with her ex-husband. Gregory was just another baby that awoke a primal, latent desire in Natalie, one she never voiced. Not even to Lucian while they were married.

“Lucian and I lost four babies while we were married,” she said softly. Her voice sounded echo-y in her own ears, like she was underwater or in the mouth of a cave, calling out to the darkness. “Or, rather, we lost one. I lost four. During our second pregnancy, we’d just passed the three month mark, when… I mean, after Damien was born, the doctors told me I probably wouldn’t be able to conceive, let alone carry to full term. It was a difficult pregnancy, Damien’s. Bed rest for the last two months. But, after, we tried for a second child. Determined fools, the both of us. The doctors were right, of course, but, you know Lucian. He’s… excitable in his way. So each time after, I didn’t… I didn’t want to get his hopes up. So, he thought—thinks-- it was only the one.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and looked back at Ashton properly, eyes on eyes.

“He always wanted to be a parent again. Wouldn’t stop nattering on about it, actually, when we were younger. Bit annoying, really.” She smiled with the vestiges of old affection gone sour. “Especially since I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I don’t think he knows—not that I want him to, mind you—that I left him before he could find out. Stepped out on him, I suppose you’d say. Thought it would make this—him moving on; he was bound to—more bearable when it happened.”

She laughed and shook her head. It was a pitiful, humorless laugh. Mortified, really. She couldn’t stop herself from talking now that she’d started. It was over two decades worth of grief oozing out. An old woman (not that old) justifying her life, the decline of her marriage, to a young woman. What for? So Ashton didn’t make the same mistakes? She’d already married Lucian; perhaps that was mistake number one. Besides, Natalie couldn’t save Ashton, since there was nothing to save her from.

“Lord, I’m rambling. I’m sorry, Ashton. You don’t need to hear this. I shouldn’t want to tell you any of it. My ex-husband’s new fiancée. It’s probably bad luck, me saying all this. Just… promise me you won’t tell Lucian. That whatever you do, you’ll just, keep this between us women, value your children, and not tell Lucian?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

The moments when Ashton was alone, she would sometimes wonder how she would react to things Natalie said should they meet again. She would play scenarios over and over in her mind, sometimes even verbally responding to things a fabricated, imaginary Natalie would say. Lucian had assured it was no good, that the woman was unpredictable, and that Ashton was capable of responding maturely to anything Natalie dished out. And Ashton, foolishly, was convinced to believe him when he made those soothing circles in her back with lotion and thumbs.

But no amount of preparing—both emotionally nor mentally—no amount of reassurance or lotion, could have prepared her for the look in Natalie’s eyes. Where there was once icy disdain, there was a soft, gentle pulsation of pain behind them, rhythmically drumming in her irises, making Ashton’s stomach fall down a deep, slippery path, a lump forming in her throat. She readjusted Gregory on her shoulder, rocking him gently in hopes that it would ease away the sinking feeling in her gut.

The topic had turned to Lucian and Ashton prayed she could keep a level head for Gregory’s sake should Natalie spout out a list of things she hated about the man: the kind, wonderful, intelligent, generous man she planned on marrying this summer; the father of her child. She dreaded the moments Natalie had something to say about Lucian.

“I wish you the best of luck. Children are a gift.”

They were. Gregory, at one time, had been the sole thing that reminded Ashton that she and Lucian were to be if not capable of being together forever, then of being connected by this little child. This little infant with barely enough strength to hold up his soft and bulbous head was able to bring more strength to their love. They fought for him, they fought for each other, for their family, and in the end, there was this little baby they called Gregory, who personified the reality they had once dreamt up. And with that beautiful fact, it only made sense that they would have more kids. More babies for them to love, and share, and teach, and raise, and lead. More little truths to remind them of the poignant past they had, to weave and strengthen that golden thread that bound their relationship together.

“Lucian and I lost four babies while we were married.” Ashton’s eyes widened in shock at the tragedy and in confusion of why Natalie was revealing this to her. It was personal, something you told a relative, a close friend. Anyone but your ex-husband’s new bride. “Or, rather, we lost one. I lost four. During our second pregnancy, we’d just passed the three month mark, when… I mean, after Damien was born, the doctors told me I probably wouldn’t be able to conceive, let alone carry to full term. It was a difficult pregnancy, Damien’s. Bed rest for the last two months. But, after, we tried for a second child. Determined fools, the both of us. The doctors were right, of course, but, you know Lucian. He’s… excitable in his way. So each time after, I didn’t… I didn’t want to get his hopes up. So, he thought—thinks-- it was only the one.”

Ashton could see where their marriage had been weak. Ashton would never, could never keep something like that from Lucian. She had a hard enough time even keeping dinner a surprise. It added to the long list of differences between the two women, a list that reassured Ashton daily, but took a backseat for a moment as she looked not at Natalie Blackwood, her foil, but at Natalie Blackwood, the human being.

“He always wanted to be a parent again. Wouldn’t stop nattering on about it, actually, when we were younger. Bit annoying, really. Especially since I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I don’t think he knows—not that I want him to, mind you—that I left him before he could find out. Stepped out on him, I suppose you’d say. Thought it would make this—him moving on; he was bound to—more bearable when it happened.”

Ashton listened, surprised at the softness of tone, the gentleness in voice that Natalie possessed. And it was this sudden shift in character, in personality that had Ashton so enthralled and intrigued by what Natalie was saying, if not the actual words she spoke.

“Lord, I’m rambling. I’m sorry, Ashton. You don’t need to hear this. I shouldn’t want to tell you any of it. My ex-husband’s new fiancée. It’s probably bad luck, me saying all this. Just… promise me you won’t tell Lucian. That whatever you do, you’ll just, keep this between us women, value your children, and not tell Lucian?”

Ashton was speechless. She stroked Gregory’s hair in thought. “I tell Lucian everything,” she said at long last. “Everything from the type of shampoo I need to the darkest moments of my life to the excitement of getting married.” How could she keep something like this from him? “But,” she said slowly, knowing the dark cloud of funk that would follow Lucian around at the enlightenment. “I really don’t see what good telling him that now would so. Actually, I think telling him that would just… kill him.” Ashton sighed. “You’re secret’s safe with me, Natalie, but, out of curiosity, why? Why did you tell me that?” Who was Ashton to her besides some backwards competition? What instilled in Natalie a trust for Ashton? What did telling her do? Make idle conversation? Provide closure? Ashton was at a complete loss.

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

When the words were out there, Natalie felt lighter for about two seconds. In those two seconds, she felt the relief of not grieving alone that she’d denied herself years ago. Had it really been ten years since her doctor told her that sterilization was her best option? Nine years, then, since she borrowed money from her father for the surgery, checking in under a false name and circumventing Lucian altogether? Eight since she met Anthony?

And only a year since her divorce had been finalized.

Natalie’s lightness popped and something settled in her stomach, dead weight. It was clear now that she hadn’t been the only one to step out of the confines of marriage. Lucian had fallen in love with Ashton without knowing any of what Natalie said. He might have guessed, but never known. She could only hope Ashton didn’t mention it. She didn’t want to have that conversation with Lucian. She never had.

“I tell Lucian everything,” Ashton said after a long while. Natalie sucked in a sharp breath. “Everything from the type of shampoo I need to the darkest moments of my life to the excitement of getting married.”

Natalie’s lips contorted into a sneer, a scowl. Of course she would. Good wife, bad wife. Saint Ashton, patron of second marriages and fulfilling middle aged men’s fantasies. Of course she’d blab to Lucian, it would just reinforce her Madonna image for him. Good mum, bad mum.

“But,” Ashton’s voice broke Natalie’s scowl. “I really don’t see what good telling him that now would so. Actually, I think telling him that would just…kill him.” Ashton sighed. “You’re secret’s safe with me, Natalie, but, out of curiosity, why? Why did you tell me that?”

Natalie sighed.

“Thank you,” she said. Then exhaling again, trying to find the words, she added, “I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you were some hussy, shacking up with my ex-husband. I can’t believe in any of that “the one” or “soul-mate” drivel any more, but he clearly loves you. And if you two do decide to have a family, I at least want one of you to appreciate what that means for him. Even if that one isn't him.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

The air had been as cleared as it could possibly be for the time being and Ashton felt heavy and light at the same time, as if she had lead in her chest and stomach, but had sprouted wings. This odd sort of relationship with Natalie made it perfectly conspicuous that she didn’t hate the woman, but rather, respected her for what she had been, if not so much for the things she had done recently. But there was a sympathy Ashton couldn’t help but to feel.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you were some hussy, shacking up with my ex-husband. I can’t believe in any of that “the one” or “soul-mate” drivel any more, but he clearly loves you.” Natalie said, making Ashton smile. It made sense. Why would she tell her if she didn’t think it was important she knew? Natalie was a lot of things (mother, adulteress, ex-wife, human), and Ashton always knew she was a woman of purpose, who didn’t do things without a logical reason.
“And if you two do decide to have a family, I at least want one of you to appreciate what that means for him. Even if that one isn't him.”

Ashton’s frown faltered. Even if Lucian didn’t appreciate her pregnancy for the reasons Natalie had hoped, he had appreciated it for other reasons, reasons Natalie couldn’t even understand. Their love had been forbidden, Lucian and Ashton’s. They dreamed of this family, this life, knowing full well it would never happen. But when Ashton get pregnant, it was a glimpse at the future they could have had together. And when they found out they could keep the baby, their dream was just close enough to touch. And just think, had one thing been different, Ashton might be a single mother, or married to Damien, or, worse, a childless mother, knowing her child was growing up with someone else, or not growing up at all. Lucian knew all of this, and surely cherished every moment he had with Gregory, knowing that those moments might not have even existed. The same would definitely go for any of the future children they had, right?

Why did talking to Natalie always, even from the beginning, make Ashton feel uncertain about so many things?

But she kept her voice level and took a deep breath. “I understand. Look, I’m glad we had this talk,” Ashton lied, and glanced quickly at the clock on her phone. “And I’d love to continue, but I have to get this one,” Ashton indicated to the baby in her arms “home for his nap.” She stood, gathering her things. She extended a careful hand to her. “Goodbye, Natalie.”

[The Exodus]

OOC: I figured I should wrap this up. Besides, I’m stumped with the rehab scene. BIC:

Natalie Blackwood

Natalie’s legacy would die with Damien. That much had been clear for half a decade now. Lucian, meanwhile, had two sons and a young fiancée. There would be more children, no doubt, if Natalie knew Lucian. She knew him. He’d hated being an only child, looked on her sisters with an odd sort of envy, saying how lucky she was to have them. She didn’t have them now, or Lucian, for that matter. And she wouldn’t have any more children. Aside from Damien, Natalie was alone. Ashton could have been her. She could have been worse off, come to think of it, trapped in a loveless marriage to Damien (or someone worse than Damien), with no children and only her one sister to serve as company and a constant reminder of the life she didn’t have. If Ashton didn’t appreciate how easily she could have been in Natalie’s shoes, she didn’t deserve any of it. Even the bits Natalie hadn’t wanted. Even Lucian.

“I understand.” said Ashton. “Look, I’m glad we had this talk, and I’d love to continue—“

Liar, Natalie thought. She wondered if she said it—she hadn’t—in that same, low and biting tone she thought it in. Something behind her eyes stabbed them. She wasn’t going to cry in front of Ashton. She had no reason—no right—to cry.

“--But I have to get this one,” Ashton indicated to the baby in her arms “home for his nap.” She stood, gathering her things. She extended a careful hand to her. “Goodbye, Natalie.”


“Take care, Ashton,” she said, plastering her best, warmest faux-smile. She’d perfected it as a politician’s wife.

She wasn’t that anymore.

God, what was she these days? A single mother to a grown son? Adivorcee? She had no career, hardly any family that claimed her. Friends? A passion?

Take care, Ashton, not to throw what you have away.

Take care, Ashton, that I don’t jealously slap your face.

Natalie watched Ashton and Gregory leave the bistro and her head fell into her hands. She sat there a long time, overpowered by the noise of the restaurant. The buzz of conversation, the clink of glass and metal, the hiss of cooking in the kitchen. It sounded louder, faster than it should of and Natalie could feel her chest rise and fall, as if trying to outrun the insistent rattling of her heartbeat. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to scream. She wasn’t—

“Excuse me, madame?”

The waiter’s calm voice cut through the chaos. Natalie looked up at him and offered him a shaky smile. He smiled back at her.

“The woman in the table behind you paid your tab,” he said. “She said she is sorry for your loss. She left her card, if you’d like it.”

Natalie accepted the card and looked at it in the soft light of the bistro. Doctor Annette-Marie Boniface. A fertility specialist or a psychologist? She flipped it over. Scrawled on the back: You aren’t alone.

Her eyes were wet now, but they didn’t throb. Natalie gathered her things and slipped Dr. Boniface’s card into her purse before stepping outside into the sunlit street.

[The Exodus]

OOC: Lucian and Toddy! BIC:


Lucian Michaud

The BMW maneuvered through the pedestrian-clogged streets as fast as Lucian could make it without hitting anyone or anything. He did his best not to lay on the horn in frustration, but there was no denying Lucian was agitated. Today, he was striving to make a good impression on Toddy St. James, his son’s boyfriend, and if Lucian knew anything about impressions, it was that good ones were seldom made while running late. In his defense, Lucian hadn’t purposefully gone out of his way to be late. The meeting with marketing had gone on far too long and though Lucian was the owner of Michaud Vineyards, Winery, and Industries, even he lacked the power to get the head of marketing to stop talking. Chloe Delacroix was a slip of a woman who had a way with words even Lucian couldn’t match. She could squeeze at least two dozen in on one breath; she had a way of making each ending sentence bleed into the next opening ones so that getting a word in edgewise was like parking a semi into a compact car parking space. She reminded Lucian of at least a dozen lobbyists he’d met. Lucian finally ploughed through one of her sentences.

“Yes, well, thank you, Chloe for your fascinating insight into the minds of our under-thirty customer demographic,” he said, standing up. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to continue this discussion another time. I have another meeting across town and I’m sure these other ladies and gentlemen are in similar binds. Thank you, again.”

He didn’t want to stay behind for proper goodbyes, but in the elevator, Philbert Gaussier (head of shipping) wanted to discuss his request for eco-friendly trucks for land-transport. Lucian hadn’t realized there was anything wrong with their current trucks. And soon, he found himself asking about mile-kilometer ratios, horsepower, and alternative fuel. His eye caught sight of a clock in the lobby and Lucian bit his lip.

“Philbert,” he said, trying to keep up his smile. “I really do have a meeting across town.”

“Oh,” Philbert said, rubbing his mouth. “I thought you said that to get Chloe to shut up about target demographics. Girl could put a motorboat to shame, all the noise she makes.”

Lucian smiled thinly and said goodbye.

And then he got caught up in the midst of rush-hour traffic, which brought him to this moment, five minutes until seven as he tried to squeeze his car into a parking spot outside the restaurant. He assumed that, after dinner, he’d find a parking ticket slapped onto the windshield. He didn’t much care anymore. That would be after he made his impression on Toddy.

This was something like his third impression, anyhow. And, honestly, things could be worse. He’d met Toddy while the younger man was drinking—perhaps drunk—over a broken heart. The other time the pair had met, Damien worked as mediator between panicked Toddy and moderately confused Lucian. Finally, Lucian intended to talk to his son’s boyfriend, man-to-man.

Trouble was, from the sounds of it, his plan to play the part of an intimidating father was a moot point these days. As Damien told it, Natalie had fixed herself into the role of bad cop where Toddy was concerned. This left Lucian to pal up to Toddy, whether he wanted to or not. Parenting together-but-separately had drawbacks like this. Apparently—and no one had told Lucian until last night, mind you—Natalie hated Toddy. Apparently, she didn’t think he was good enough for their little boy. The idea that Damien would fall head-over-feet for an American receptionist was outrageous to her. Lucian couldn’t understand how that was more ridiculous than Natalie’s affair with a barrister ten years her junior in the middle of their marriage, but he supposed it wasn’t his place to judge. Good cop and all that.

Damien wasn’t too keen on this meeting. He seemed to think Lucian and Natalie were either of the same mindset or in psychic commune with one another in order to ruin his life. Lucian thought it was the opposite in reality. He disagreed wholeheartedly with Natalie and—had they been in psychic commune—Lucian supposed they’d be using such power to exact revenge on each other and not Damien. But that was digression. The point was: he didn’t think Damien’s relationship with Toddy was absurd. If anything, Lucian liked Toddy, if only because when Damien was with him, he was happier than Lucian could recall him being in the last several years. He almost wanted to shake Toddy’s hand and thank him for returning him his eldest son in mint condition.

Lucian threw the car into park and walked from it to the restaurant. It was exactly seven o’clock when he checked in with the hostess. As close to flawless timing as possible where Lucian was concerned. He sat down at the table and ordered an Earl Grey with cream and honey. No alcohol tonight, as much as he thought he’d need it. He was driving home tonight; no risks. He didn’t want to rob Gregory’s future significant others of the scrutiny Toddy was about to undergo tonight.

[Deleted]

Toddy St. James


Toddy St. James swore up and down and forever lived by the lifestyle of being fashionably late. When he arrived at six o’clock for a seven o’clock dinner with Lucian Michaud, that’s when he realized he had completely gone from fashionable to one hot mess. Especially since he had just run into the little men’s room and had been in there for about an hour now. Toddy was only early when he was never early. Being an hour early? This diva was about to drop dead.

Toddy sat in the restroom’s couch, and tapped his finger against his watch as if that would make the ticking tock faster. He had been fa-reaking out the entire day about tonight. Actually, ever since he had gotten the phone call from Mister Michaud asking Toddy to join him for a dinner alone. Toddy then asked him what he was wearing and it all just got so dreadful from there. This honey and phone conversations was like a for sure crash and burn. Toddy St. James did much better face to face with conversation. Mostly because he could use the power of his sweet baby blue eyes to charm and glamour. On the phone Toddy was like all of Jennifer Lopez’s movies- terrible. There was just no time to make a body gesture or something that could distract so Toddy St. James could think of something to say. Phone was all about being quick on the feet and having just the right voice inflection to make a good impression.

Making a good impression on Lucian Michaud was what it was all about tonight.

Toddy looked at his watch. A couple more minutes of this restroom tango and he was outie. Which was unfortunate because he was so going to miss the fumes of the incoming Paris men who had a little too much of fiber, and of course, the hotties who walked in and talked to themselves and winked in the mirror- Psh, as if.

It was so hypocritical though, because now Toddy St. James was the one looking at himself in the mirror and mouthing words of encouragement. “Damien, you’re so lucky I love you.” He murmured, not looking forward to another lovely evening with one of his parents. What was it going to be tonight? Maybe Lucian Michaud would bribe Toddy to stay away from Damien with money, because after all, he was like number one rich and hottest in Paris. Toddy St. James only liked to know that and took pride in it because he beat Myron Bolitar. Enough said. Toddy couldn’t take any more of this parental unit thang though. First momma’ dearest had to go all tizz and almost ruin their relationship forever, and now that they were back together- this was happening?

They were lucky they were all a gorgeous family, or this situation would have been way worse.

What the hell ever. Toddy St. James straightened out his cuffs and took a deep breath, patting his rosy cheek but then, “Ow.” Toddy was going to step up tonight and just not be intimidated. So what if Toddy was on the opposite of the social spectrum than the Michauds. Toddy St. James was a fierce betch. Lucian Michaud would not bring him down.

With that, Toddy headed out of the bathroom at exactly the time of their planned dinner, and saw Lucian Michaud sitting at a table, looking sharp per usual. Swallowing hard, he headed toward him with confidence and a new glow that went away right when Toddy St. James hit the front of the table. All that fierce betch talk in the bathroom seemed so distant now. Now all Toddy St. James wanted to do was dine and ditch.

“Hello, Mister Michaud.” Toddy said with a smile, sliding into the seat in front of him. He looked over at it was so obvious that it was Damien’s father. Those blue eyes stabbed like icicles! “Thanks for-“ Making me want to wet my new designer pants by inviting me to dinner tonight. “Inviting me to dine with you.”

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

While seated alone with his tea, Lucian allowed his thoughts to turn homeward. Gregory was supposed to be asleep by now, nestled in his cradle while Ashton watched over him from the rocking chair. He tried to imagine a time twenty years from now when Gregory was dating, as Damien was now. In twenty years, Lucian would be sixty-seven. He wondered what sort of impression he would make on boyfriends and girlfriends then. He didn’t know quite how he came across to Toddy now. In the hypothetical future, Lucian hoped to be better at this part of fatherhood. Not that Lucian ever had much practice until meeting Toddy. Gregory would benefit from this meeting. His future dates would, too.

And for now it was Toddy St. James who was Lucian’s experimental guinea pig.

Damien never did bring boys home to meet his parents. Lucian wondered what sort of difference that would have made. Would he have been the sort of dad who just happened to clean a hunting rifle whenever a boy stopped by? Probably not. But he might be a bit more prepared for this sort of thing. Civilized conversation with the man Damien claimed to love. Lucian didn’t throw around the word “love” easily. Neither did Natalie (despite her affair, Lucian refused to believe Natalie was a loose woman). Where Damien learned to say “love” after only a few months, Lucian hadn’t the foggiest. He wondered what sort of magic spell Toddy had Damien under.

“Hello, Mister Michaud.”

Toddy’s voice cut through Lucian’s thoughts. He looked up and smiled at the younger man. Toddy took a seat across from him.

“Thanks for inviting me to dine with you.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. I assure you,” Lucian said, still smiling. He handed Toddy a menu. “Order whatever you wish; my treat.”

Lucian Michaud was definitely not the father who polished his hunting rifle at convenient times. He drank from his tea and let the warmth slide down his throat and settle nicely in his stomach. He set the teacup down and folded his hands before himself on the table.

“I must confess,” he said. “My purpose for inviting you is two-fold. For your sake, I want to clear up the misconception that my ex-wife and I are both staunchly against your dating our son. As Natalie and I only speak when strictly necessary, I only learned of her embarrassing sabotage attempt yesterday. I can no longer speak for her, so I won’t apologize in her stead. However, I am sorry I didn’t intervene on your behalf. Clearly, you make my son happy. And as long as you continue to do so, I see no reason why I should stand in your way.”

Lucian drew a breath. It was a bit like winning votes, wasn’t it? Convincing your son’s boyfriend to like you without getting too attached, in case your son got a new boyfriend was just another way of hedging bets.

“That said,” he continued. “I’m curious as to know why you make my son happy, Toddy. I’ve met you twice already and—to be honest—you and I are relative strangers. I don’t know how this is typically done. Damien has never brought anyone home. The way I see it, if he ‘loves’ you, I may as well get to know you. Tonight isn’t going to be some police interrogation. I just want to know who you are.”

He sounded much less threatening than Henry Greene had when confronting Lucian months ago. He distinctly recalled be called a b*stard, being threatened with death, and Henry dropping to the ground with a heart attack. Tonight was going much, much better than all that.

[Deleted]

Toddy St. James


“Oh, it’s my pleasure. I assure you.” Toddy took the menu from Mister Michaud. “Order whatever you wish; my treat.”

The treat was that Toddy St. James received was this beautiful menu that was serving as a cucumber facial mask so he could spare some freaking out facial expressions. Toddy knew it was rude to hold up the menu to his face, but screw manners for a bit, this diva was nervous. Of course, it wasn’t fair to be so intimidated. He wasn’t so intimidated as he was feeling awkward. What even brought on tonight? Whatever. Toddy St. James was getting a free meal and a meal with Paris’ number one. Hopefully some of his friends were here to take a look at this, or he was so snagging a pic for his facebook!

“I must confess.“

Suddenly Toddy was at a Catholic church? He slowly moved the menu down, his eyebrows raising.

“My purpose for inviting you is two-fold. For your sake, I want to clear up the misconception that my ex-wife and I are both staunchly against your dating our son.”

They were getting right down to it, weren’t they? Toddy placed the menu down incredibly interested in what Mister Michaud had to say and no facing him straight on. Sure, he was a nervous wreck but when it came to the matters of his heart, this was serious. After his little ex-wife’s fiasco, no one would chat about Toddy and Damien, and Toddy St. James be just relaxed about it.

“As Natalie and I only speak when strictly necessary, I only learned of her embarrassing sabotage attempt yesterday. I can no longer speak for her, so I won’t apologize in her stead. However, I am sorry I didn’t intervene on your behalf. Clearly, you make my son happy. And as long as you continue to do so, I see no reason why I should stand in your way.”

Toddy squinted his eyes.

“That said, I’m curious as to know why you make my son happy, Toddy. I’ve met you twice already and—to be honest—you and I are relative strangers. I don’t know how this is typically done. Damien has never brought anyone home. The way I see it, if he ‘loves’ you, I may as well get to know you. Tonight isn’t going to be some police interrogation. I just want to know who you are.”

Toddy St. James studied him for a moment, his hands clasped on the table in front of him with a bemused quirky smirk. He took a moment to make sure he was done, because the sweetie seemed he had a monologue prepared for him. Secondly, that was a lot to take in. He was relieved to hear that there wasn’t two Natalie’s running about in Damien’s life. Yet, Lucian Michaud talked like a robot, or maybe this was how parents chatted with their child’s boyfriend? Toddy wouldn’t know and for that he was secretly jealous. He would never have anyone sit Damien down. Toddy St. James had never had to deal with a parental unit. He never had to prove himself worthy to anyone and he took major pride in that, and ‘pride’ in many other a thang, but that went without saying.

“I apologize,” Toddy said, the silence from him being obvious by now. “That was just, a lot to take in.”
But it was time to take it in and begin acting like an adult. Which, sometimes Toddy could so do it.

Leaning in, Toddy looked at Lucian seriously.

“I appreciate your support.” He told him honestly. “I love your son, Mister Michaud. I don’t really know how to go about this fatherly-getting-to-know you bit, but that’s probably because I don’t have a father of my own.” Toddy said this as a fact, not as something that still hurt him. Which was why to some people it was so awkward to say, but that’s why Toddy St. James’ ETrueHollywood Story was going to be much more smoother than most.

“I’m not as good at this long speech thing like you just were, so you’ll have to pardon me.” Toddy admitted, taking a sip of his iced water.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Speechmaking was in Lucian’s genetic code. His father, the diplomat, had been given to inspiration orations, peppered with comforting adages and seasoned with an icy, cool gaze. Absolutely unflappable, Alphonse Michaud. It was a birthright, one which Lucian fully intended to pass on to Damien and Gregory in turn. It wasn’t always who said the most who was in control, but insofar as this sort of thing went, Lucian preferred to err on the side of wordiness. He doubted that he’d get all of that on the table later; if Toddy was dating Damien, he must have been able to out-talk him.

No doubt Lucian would get an earful tonight from his son. How did it go? Did you play nicely? Please tell me you didn’t talk about foreign policy…

Toddy smirked and Lucian didn’t like the expression one bit. His own lip curled into a smile, cool and collected as he studied the younger man. Of course his speech had been intended to make Toddy more comfortable. Silence descended. Lucian didn’t take his eyes from Toddy. He waited patiently. It felt good to be on the debate floor again, making a case, seeing how the opposition would deconstruct it. In a way, it was a bit of a chess game. Bishop to E5. Check. Lucian awaited Toddy’s next move curiously. What sort of man had Damien selected for himself, anyhow? And why did Natalie so heartily disapprove? He wondered if she’d done this to Toddy yet, given him an opportunity to partake in a match of wits or a heart to heart. Lucian’s patience didn’t wear out, although now, all he could wonder was how Toddy and Damien had said much more than “boo” to Natalie.

“I apologize,” said Toddy at long last. “That was just, a lot to take in.”

Lucian nodded. He almost wanted to say, “Take your time” as Natalie would have. That sugared smirk of hers was so tempting to imitate suddenly. But he could practically feel Ashton pressing on his wrist below the table, begging him to play nicely. He had no desire to be mean. Merely to try whatever tactic worked. Waiting, he found, wasn’t getting results.

Perhaps it was getting results. Perhaps it was in his silences Toddy most expressed himself. A lot to take in. He was overwhelmed by Lucian. Perhaps intimidated or confused or else off-balance. Lucian could guess that meant Toddy had very little experience with politicians or businessmen. Or if he had, then Toddy St. James was a strangely innocent man. Lucian wondered if that was part of his allure to Damien. Toddy was untainted by the world in which Damien had grown up.

“I appreciate your support,” Toddy said, leaning forward. “I love your son, Mister Michaud. I don’t really know how to go about this fatherly-getting-to-know you bit, but that’s probably because I don’t have a father of my own.”

Toddy didn’t waver on this point. Lucian’s jaw shifted. He was curious, but it wasn’t his place. There seemed to be a lot of orphans in Paris these days; Lucian wondered what it was about the city that attracted them and why it was he met so many of them since arriving.

And then something else sunk in. Toddy said “love”. “I love your son, Mr. Michaud” was said with the same clarity that “I don’t have a father of my own”. It was a fact. For them, it was simple.

Lucian wondered if anything was ever really that clear cut.


“I’m not as good at this long speech thing like you just were, so you’ll have to pardon me.”

“Of course. I don’t expect you to. Hopefully, you can forgive an old politician for leaping at the opportunity to make a speech.”

Lucian’s tone was light, his smile easier. He wasn’t at ease yet, but faking it had always been his strongest suit. A well-placed joke here, a bit of self-deprecation there, they’d eat out of your palms. Make them feel good about themselves, make them believe you’re one of them, you will have unwavering loyalty.

Lucian gave his tea another quick stir before setting the spoon down on the napkin.

“Truthfully, I’m rubbish at this father-and-his-son’s-boyfriend dynamic too, Toddy. You’re the first man Damien’s ever liked well enough to bring home. I think that speaks volumes in your favor.”