Les Deux Magots Cafe

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Les Deux Magots Cafe is a mecca for the arty and psuedo-arty types. Once the haunt of greats like Pablo Picasso and Simone de Beauvoir, the cafe embodies Paris' cafe culture. Outside, patrons smoke, drink coffee, and read newspapers or chat with friends. Inside, the cozy atmosphere begs you to stay for a meal.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: For Rachel. BiC:

Ashton Greene

Ashton picked mindlessly at the buttered criossant in front of her, shredding it into pieces that were barely considered "bite sized"before replacing it on the plate in front of her. She looked out the window of Les Deux Magots with a sigh. Lucian was at the vineyards today and Ashton could only imagine how miserable he was driving to Burgundy in that leather interior. She felt almost dreadful complaining in the luxury of the air conditioned cafe. She sipped at her water and wondered how he would have felt about the text she got this morning had he been the reciever. "Back in Paris! <3" was all it said. Ashton shouldn't have been surprised. Rachel was always on the move, always running around. It was only a matter of time before she found her way back to the city of lights. And Ashton was more than willing to welcome her with open arms (something that had gotten harder and harder to do now as her son grew). So much had happened, they had so much to tell each other and Ashton couldn't wait to meet her here as instructed.

Ashton drummed her fingers on the table top, her belly concealed behind it, hidden out of sight. She wondered how she would tell Rachel she and Lucian were converting her old room into a nursery for their son. She wondered what Rachel would do, would say. It had, after all, been a long time since they'd seen each other.

Ooc: so... I'm a hypocrite. I wrote this on my phone. Took me seven class periods... Bic:

[The Exodus]

OOC: Henry and Natalie, doing what scheming villains do best. Plotting. BIC:

Natalie Blackwood

The nippy air snapped at Natalie’s heels as she walked down the cobbled street. If it sank its fangs into her, no doubt, it would drive her back to the safety of her new flat, where she would promptly bundle up under layers of blankets with a nice cup of tea and a good book, like most of the sensible people she knew would. Already, regret both at being out today and for agreeing to this clandestine meeting was making a play for her, trying to entice Natalie home.

Think of your son, a little voice nagged. What would Damien say about you meeting up with Henry Greene?

Only recently, Damien allowed Natalie back into his life. Natalie didn’t want to risk again losing his trust. Meeting with Henry had no direct bearing on Damien’s life. Natalie no longer intended for Ashton to be a part of her baby boy’s world. However, if Damien knew that Natalie was here with express purposes of breaking Lucian and Ashton up, no doubt he would run to tell his father and pick sides. Natalie couldn’t abide the thought of being least loved. She also couldn’t abide knowing that Ashton Greene was the one who her ex-husband went home to each night. It made her nauseous to close her eyes and imagine them shagging each other. Knowing that Ashton was taking full advantage of Natalie’s own sloppy seconds. Knowing that Lucian was probably twice the lover to Ashton than he had been to Natalie. Knowing that he valued the baby he was expecting with Ashton as much—maybe more—than he had valued Damien or Natalie’s pregnancy with Damien. It bothered her in ways she couldn’t enunciate. In simplest terms: Natalie missed the idea of her family. She had Damien still; she couldn’t miss him. She didn’t miss Lucian—only when she wished someone was around to help around the house did she consciously want him there. But, if you offered Natalie a time machine right now, she wouldn’t hesitate turning back the clock. She would go all the way back to the day she met Anthony Walden. And in the moment when he asked her to drinks and she said, “I have a husband” his slick, “I have a cat. Do you want to talk about other, irrelevant things?” wouldn’t have made her laugh. She would instead frown and say, “No, I don’t want to have drinks with you.” Just to see where she’d be today if she’d turned him down then. To see if she and Lucian would have made it; what would have become of Damien, to have two supportive and loving parents. She knew Ashton’s presence in his life distressed him. Damien, not Lucian. He didn’t say it. Sometimes, he went so far as to say things like, “She makes Dad happy; I’m happy for them” and change the topic. But Natalie figured it couldn’t have eased the divorce process for Damien, watching his father start a new family with a girl Damien had once been engaged to; a girl Damien’s age. And if Natalie couldn’t turn back time and fix things for Damien’s sake, she would at least make his future more comfortable.

Still, as she navigated her way to the café, Natalie couldn’t help but wonder if this was the right thing. She imagined for a moment that Damien really did like Ashton—and the idea of Ashton and Lucian together. Supposing that were true, breaking them up wouldn’t make the baby disappear. Rather, it would create a second Damien, so to speak: a child with bitter, unmarried parents. Would that foster camaraderie between the brothers? Would Damien realize Natalie was behind it and hate her? She decided to think of Damien as conflicted; secretly hating Ashton, but trying to put on a brave face. She supposed there was also the possibility that Lucian was actually in love with Ashton. This idea she found distasteful; age gaps as outrageous as theirs didn’t foster love. It fostered creepy, Oedipal desires that made her rather glad they’d never had a daughter. Which brought her to another painful truth. Lucian really was getting all he wanted out of this. If he was in love with Ashton, he was getting that fairytale romance they’d failed at. Even if he wasn’t, he was still getting that second child that they’d craved decades ago, but never could conceive as far as Lucian knew. Natalie swallowed the thoughts of her miscarriages, gulping down a blast of dry, wintry air with it. Her throat burned. She was jealous of Ashton Greene in way that she couldn’t articulate; if she did, they might make her sound crazy. What was Natalie getting after all was said and done? Alimony checks? Grey hair and ulcers?

It was better to think of Damien in all this. Tell herself that she was doing this for his sanity as much as her own. By breaking up Lucian and Ashton, Damien wouldn’t have to think of his father as a fiancée stealing man wh*re. Damien wouldn’t have to be the only Michaud child deprived of a normal home. He would come closer to being the happy-go-lucky little cherub Natalie remembered so well from fifteen years ago.

She also tried to think of Henry in this. What it must be like to be getting a son in law who was closer to your own age; what it meant to see your child disappoint you. Natalie was thankful to never deal with either, but it could have easily been her. Imagine if Damien fell for a man in his forties! Imagine that man to be a professional failure! Natalie could sympathize with Henry. Never mind how much of this mess was Natalie’s fault. Even without the affair, Natalie was still to blame. She had introduced Lucian to Ashton, insisted he play nice with her. She had—in essence—given all the permission a man needed to fall in love with, screw, impregnate, and marry a girl. Well, a man like Lucian, anyways, who saw nothing wrong with doing as he pleased if the ends justified the means.

The blue awning came into sight and Natalie entered the café, taking a seat as far from the window as she could. She didn’t want to risk being seen, caught, by someone she knew. Luck hadn’t favored her in a while. Expecting it to now was stupid. Natalie firmly believed that God helped those who helped themselves. She wasn’t a religious woman and she didn’t have to be. She made her own luck by helping herself achieve her ends. And in this case, Natalie was sure that—if there was a just, reasonable God—the cosmos would understand that Damien deserved to have an emotionally available family and that Lucian deserved to be just as miserable as Natalie was. Nothing else made sense.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Henry Greene

Henry leaned heavily on his cane as he waddled his way across the street. Ashton and Lucian had stepped out for the day to do God-knows-what, leaving Henry to his own devices in the large house. He piled on coats they left behind in the foyer, and though it was a snug fit, it was better than ending up back in the hospital, because then Ashton might just let him die this time, and he still had work to do.

Work like getting Ashton to leave Lucian or vice versa.

Which is what brought him to a café to meet up with Natalie Blackwood. If anyone knew how to get into that man’s mind, to bring him down and away from his daughter, it was Natalie, and Lord knew she didn’t like them together any more than he did. So over tea (which he had finally been okayed to consume), he and Natalie planned on planning, and set out to the blue and white café with goals of conspiring, and scheming and putting their relationship ruining ducks in a straight death row.

Henry didn’t hate Lucian. He had, after all picked the Michauds as a family to marry Ashton into. But any man who took advantage of his daughter and convinced her she was happy having a child out of wedlock with a man closer to his own age and could have easily of been her children’s grandfather was as dead. Despite his falling out with Ashton, despite her disrespect and her wayward life choices, she was still his daughter. She was still a spitting image of the wife he loved so dearly. She was still that little baby girl he held at night while the world slept. And not even Lucian Michaud would take her away from him.

The bell chimed above him as he made his slow and careful way through the café, keeping his eyes closely peeled for the blonde hair of Natalie Blackwood.

He found her and settled himself with a silent huff into her booth. “Natalie! It’s good to see you. You look well.” She did, especially now that she didn’t have a marriage to Lucian to drag her down. Dread and worry seemed lifted from her face, and, unless it was Henry’s pain medication- induced imagination, she looked younger, healthier. And Henry wondered what her secret was.

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

It simply wasn’t fair. Or rather, it was obviously unfair, though the situation was anything but simple. Natalie recalled her outings with Ashton during the engagement. Goodness knew Henry had tried with her, but Ashton wasn’t exactly a blushing debutante. She was blunt; borderline offensive at times. The subtle art of womanly conversation was lost on her and it perplexed Natalie that the girl could talk to Lucian, if she wouldn’t even participate in wordplay with others of her sex. Natalie tried to imagine conversations between the pair and wondered what they had together to talk about beyond the baby. Lucian had a passive aggressive streak that, when it reared its head, rivaled that of any woman’s. Natalie had tolerated it—relished in it, even—because an angry Lucian was one who paid attention to her and who would go on to practice one-upmanship until he was doing Natalie’s bidding without realizing it. Ashton wouldn’t put up with that. She’d call it for what it was: utter drivel. Or, possibly “bullsh*t”. That was how kids talked these days. And Ashton was a kid. She probably threw little temper tantrums when Lucian went into biting commentary about her. Stamping her feet insistently when he suggested that she could do with tightening her purse strings, instead of giving him back an equally snippy suggestion concerning his career (which was now nonexistent) or other failings as Natalie once had. They talked about music, maybe, but that was small talk and only got one so far. Seldom as far as the bedroom or the altar. Natalie’s mouth twitched side to side. It would all boil to small talk, wouldn’t it? Lucian explaining current events to Ashton, Ashton educating Lucian on pop culture. They came from different worlds. Maybe Natalie was doing them both a favor.

The thought of doing Lucian Michaud a favor turned her twitchy lips to a smile. He’d owe her then; there was nothing any man hated more than owing someone—especially if that someone was his ex-wife. The waitress came and Natalie ordered a large pot of Earl Grey and two mugs before looking at her nails. After this, she’d need to have them buffed and repainted. They still looked like hell. More talon than nail, which was a shame. Otherwise, Natalie was certain she’d have lovely hands. They were large, but slender, and not mannish. Besides a manicure, though, they were still lacking. Her fingers were naked without her wedding ring. She was absorbed by them so much so that she didn’t notice Henry Greene approach her booth.

“Natalie!” he said, sinking into the seat across from her. “It’s good to see you. You look well.”

She looked up at him and was surprised to see his usually florid face looking neither its usual pink nor the sickly grey she’d been expecting since his heart attack. He looked healthier than she would have thought and Natalie smiled at Henry; in part at the compliments he’d paid her, but also in part because she was glad to see him in good health.

“You look well yourself,” she said. “I hope you won’t mind; I took the liberty of ordering. Earl Grey; I’ve been told you can’t go wrong with that here.”

She didn’t mention the source. She wasn’t sure of Henry’s stance on Damien these days. The man was conservative; even more so than Natalie, who prided her traditions and economic good sense. What he would make of a gay artists—whoever’s son he was—was a wild card. Never mind that Damien was just as much Lucian’s son as he was Natalie’s and Natalie knew how Henry felt about Lucian already. Natalie crossed her wrists delicately and the thin, gold bangles adorning them clinked together smartly. She tilted her head and recrossed her legs until comfortable. Something didn’t feel right. She squinted and studied Henry better than before. And then it hit her.

“Nice jacket,” she said, a slick veneer of sarcasm coating her voice. “Though I must say, trading your daughter to my ex-husband for his coat is hardly a savvy move. That ratty old thing is at least nine years old and could probably do with a long trip to the cleaners.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Henry Greene

“You look well yourself. I hope you won’t mind; I took the liberty of ordering. Earl Grey; I’ve been told you can’t go wrong with that here.”

Henry smiled. Finally. Something familiar. Since his arrival at Paris, everything Henry knew was shaken and stirred like an overzealous martini. His eldest was keeping secrets from him, his youngest was further ruining her life and his plans to fix it, Lucian stabbed him in the back, and he suffered a heart attack. Suddenly, Natalie became his accomplice and Earl Grey became his confidant. He would except the tea graciously and savor it. It was better than the healthy medicinal tea Ashton was ladling him with these days. As much as he hated Lucian, Henry wondered how he dealt with the weird hippie diet on a daily basis (unless Ashton enjoyed this form of sick torture).

“Nice jacket. Though I must say, trading your daughter to my ex-husband for his coat is hardly a savvy move. That ratty old thing is at least nine years old and could probably do with a long trip to the cleaners.”

Henry shifted uncomfortably in his from inside the heavy brown coat. “I didn’t plan on staying here that long. I was planning on just taking my daughter and going, but as you can guess, things didn’t turn out that way.”

Henry poured himself some tea and briefly wondered if Ashton was right. Maybe the gross, steaming, grey stuff she made him down daily was better for him and maybe this better quality, better tasting tea would make him have another episode. Henry sipped at it cautiously, slowly.

“Didn’t you have something you wanted to talk to me about?”

[The Exodus]

OOC: As promised: Lucian is taking Ashton out for some much needed ‘them time’. BIC:

Lucian Michaud

Tonight was a milestone as far as Lucian was concerned. Of course he had taken day trips to the vineyards to assure that business was running smoothly; certainly there had been full mornings when he or Ashton regretfully slunk away from the house to attend to things like dentist appointments, meetings with the caterers for their wedding, and (once) a meeting with Lucian’s divorce attorney concerning the rental of the Wiltshire house. But those had all been brief, little trips, taken out of necessity and never without assuring that while one parent was out, the other was home.

Tonight, Gregory James Michaud would be spending his first night without Mummy and Daddy.

As far as Lucian was concerned, Mummy and Daddy needed some time to just be Ashton and Lucian. It was a big fear—a huge fear, in fact—of Lucian’s that the pair of them would get so lost in parenting that they’d forget what had driven them together in the first place and that in twenty years when Little Greggy was Greg or Gregory and off doing grown up things, there would be these two husks of people once known as Lucian and Ashton, who didn’t know what to do with themselves. It was an easy enough trap to slip into. Lucian knew it firsthand, but it was a general rule of thumb about empty nesters. Once the kids were grown, there were two relative strangers in a big empty house.

That absolutely would not be Lucian and Ashton. Lucian was determined to do things right by his family, but also by the woman he loved and by himself. He’d been so busy wiping off spit up and changing diapers lately, that he knew if he kept at it much longer without a break, the battle would be lost. So, tonight, they coaxed Damien into babysitting duty, put on nice clothes Lucian had forgotten they owned, and they made reservations at some upscale café in the Latin Quarter. Date night.

Of course, there were other, more complex rules about tonight’s date night. For starters, they couldn’t talk about the baby. They could not say his name, wonder out loud how he was doing under the watchful eyes of his brother and grandfather, or even so much as reminisce happily about the last month. The second rule was on what Lucian considered the opposite end of the spectrum. No sex. Not until Ashton was cleared by her doctor, which, at last count would be in roughly eight days.

Lucian swore he wasn’t counting on purpose.

Everything else, though, was fair play. They could talk about work, friends, each other, the wedding, politics, art, sports, the weather-- anything but Gregory and sex. Something in that sent Lucian back long before their engagement, before they were dating, even, to the months when Ashton lived with him as a friend for whom he had the most inappropriate affections. Then, there had been no Gregory to talk about and the idea of consummating their love was forbidden, if not by doctors, then by the illicit nature of their relationship.

Something was humming in the pit of Lucian’s stomach and he was fairly certain it wasn’t hunger.

The restaurant, too, hummed with life as kitchen and wait staff bustled about and other diners ate and laughed and chattered away. It was a little surreal feeling, since only two months ago, this had all been normal, but they’d stopped cold turkey from socializing outside of their family unit.

Honestly, it was both exciting and terrifying.

Lucian set down his menu and looked at Ashton. He took her hand in his and smiled. She looked so pretty in the flickering candlelight. Lucian usually thought of candles as over rated, but the flames caught in Ashton’s hair and eyes, pulling out golden strands in both. Of course, moonlight, sunlight, and even fluorescent light were becoming on Ashton.

“You know,” he said. “I’m sorry it isn’t the Eiffel Tower this time, but somehow, I think I prefer this view.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

There was something about tonight that spun time on its head and spiraled it back to a place where Ashton was lost, where Lucian was confused, and to where their souls searched blindly for each other. Then back to a time when Ashton needed only smile coyly at Lucian to send him between her thighs and a kind word would send Ashton into Lucian’s arms, a loving look would connect their lips, which tasted like secret betrayal and a liquor-like lusty love.

Today, she got ready behind closed doors to Lucian with playfulness. She had wanted a thrilling freedom, and that was what she had found in Lucian. As she stepped out, she watched Lucian smile slowly and she turned a soft shade of pink.

She gave Damien a schedule for Gregory and kissed her baby son goodbye.

It was the last time she would see him, would speak of him for the next few hours, for she and Lucian decided to not talk about parenthood on their date.

Since Gregory was born, Ashton got a stifling form of separation anxiety any time she went away from him. Even a trip to the mail box sent her running back inside to make sure he was alright. But of course, things had leveled out and leaving sent less fear through her, and tonight, she could take Lucian’s hand as she stepped into the frigid air and made their way, in that audacious teal jaguar of his, to the café.

The buzz and hum of conversation within the café was startling for Ashton. She felt practically vampiric stepping into the glaring sun and readjusting to interaction with other human life forms. She looked around, feeling disoriented as Lucian pulled her chair out for her. She lifted her menu and silently reminded herself not to talk about Gregory, that dating your soon-to-be husband without the kids was important, too.

Lucian took her hand and she lowered menu to gaze into his eyes. “ “You know, I’m sorry it isn’t the Eiffel Tower this time, but somehow, I think I prefer this view.”

“Sorry? No, not at all. It’s just nice to get out of the house for a while.” Ashton said, smiling, unsure how to respond to the compliment. When had she forgotten how to take those?

“And speaking of getting out,” she said. “I have a car. In England. Do you think maybe we could go get it sometime? I could show you where I grew up… I know you know London, but you don’t know it the way I do.” She said with a smirk, squeezing Lucian’s hand gently.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

For a moment, in Lucian’s mind, it was just the two of them in the world, as it had been in the Eiffel Tower restaurant, elevator, or even on their rooftop terrace, stealing hungry glances at one another, murmuring sweet somethings to each other with all the passion they could muster. They still had it.

“Sorry?” Ashton echoed. “No, not at all. It’s just nice to get out of the house for a while.”

The moment had been nice while it lasted. Lucian stared at his fiancée, dumbfounded. Was that a joke? Or had her priorities changed that much since Gregory was born?

He couldn’t ask because that would entail talking about Gregory.

Still, Lucian hoped it was a momentary thing, that his own priorities were in the right place, and that Ashton would accept the next love-laced compliment easier.

“And speaking of getting out,” she said. “I have a car. In England. Do you think maybe we could go get it sometime? I could show you where I grew up… I know you know London, but you don’t know it the way I do.”

Ashton squeezed Lucian’s hand and smirked. It was his turn to be confused. Why was she smirking?

“A day trip with you sounds appealing,” he said, smiling. “Alluring, even. I’d love to see your neighborhood.”

He tried to smirk back, but it was a crooked smile instead. He wasn’t sure if this would be a trip for just the two of them, or a family excursion. He wasn’t ready to read too much into anything. Or rather, he was, but he didn’t want to upset the delicate balance of things. If Ashton simply meant a day trip, he was a terrible husband-to-be. If Ashton mean some sort of innuendo, that made him just as bad. Catch-22.


“I’ve never taken a personal, guided tour through the city,” he said, opting for the latter. And then, to hedge his bets, “Of course, I never got to see much of the city, outside of Whitehall.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“A day trip with you sounds appealing. Alluring, even. I’d love to see your neighborhood.” Although Lucian smiled, there was no denying the look of confusion sewn into his face, creating lines and fissures which seemed to be embroidered into his forehead. But Ashton continued smiling. There were beautiful times when Lucian understood her completely-- with or without her speaking—when he had a thorough understanding of the language shared only between lovers; delicate and ancient and gentle. And then there were times when he didn’t even know where to start in trying to decipher her. Those times were just as exciting in their own right.

“I’ve never taken a personal, guided tour through the city. Of course, I never got to see much of the city, outside of Whitehall.”

“Oh I can’t wait,” Ashton said excitedly. “I could show you were I danced and where I lived… Where baby Ashton became a woman!” She laughed. “It’ll be fun,” she assured him. “And nice to do something without my father.” Ashton took a sip from the complimentary water that had been placed at her elbow. “Speaking of which,” Ashton said, playing with a piece of ice with her tongue between her incisors, “according to the doctors, Henry may be healthy enough to go home by next month.”

Finally, there’d be no fear of the dirty looks from her father, no words of bitter judgment just soft enough to be a whisper, just hard enough to hurt. It would be a relief to have him out, safe and away at his own home, so she and Lucian could get to being themselves again. If they could time it just right, they could make their day trip before he found himself at the London home again so they could steal away into her outdated childhood bedroom and…

No. Tonight was not the night to think about sex. That was reserved for later. In just over a week from now, in fact. Just in time for Valentine’s Day. Everyday they, they were closer to some form of old normalcy.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

If nothing else, tonight proved how complacent Lucian and Ashton could get if untended. How easily one could fall out of practice. Or, in their case, both parties were out of practice. It was a quick fix, honestly, something they could easily remedy with days like today. And trips in the future, like one to London.

“Oh I can’t wait,” Ashton said. “I could show you were I danced and where I lived… Where baby Ashton became a woman!”

Lucian laughed along with her. He knew—of course he knew—Ashton had been a baby once, but often even their age gap didn’t illuminate that fact for him. To Lucian, Ashton was a woman; had always been. If he were the sort to believe in old souls, Lucian knew Ashton had to be one. He didn’t, of course, believe in that. Ashton was wise for her years, but they only had this one life that they were fortunate enough to spend together. Lucian squeezed Ashton’s hand.

“It’ll be fun,” she assured him. “And nice to do somethingwithoutmy father.”

“Mmh.”

Lucian let go of Ashton’s hand. The mention of Henry Greene left him cold. Disenchanted. He couldn’t hate the man as much as he once had; not after their conversation about Gregory. But to say Lucian had much love—any love, really—for his future father-in-law was a gross lie, worthy of his political days.

“Speaking of which,” Ashton said, playing with a piece of ice with her tongue between her incisors, “according to the doctors, Henry may be healthy enough to go home by next month.”

“Thank God,” Lucian said. Suddenly, he was aware of how relieved and vehement his words were. A few months ago, he would have demurred. Instead, he laughed a little and shook his head. “I mean, it will be nice to get back to normal. For everyone, Henry included.”

But for us especially.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“Thank God,” came Lucian’s relieved sigh and Ashton offered a tight smile. It didn’t matter how little she and her father had in common, how awful things had gotten these past eight years—he was still her father, and he was still sick. He still needed her (though he would never stoop to admit it), and she was still his daughter. It would feel hollow to not have him here now with her and her young baby, especially since she had no other parents to be by her side now.

“I mean, it will be nice to get back to normal. For everyone, Henry included.” Lucian said.

Nice save, Ashton thought with a smirking half-humor.

“Yeah. I’m thinking of making him a cook book of easy recipes of things he’s actually allowed to eat. Will he use it? Probably not, but, hey, at least I’m trying, you know?” Ashton took another sip from her water. Then, putting it down, she added, “So how’s work going at the vineyards? Are you doing vinyardly things?” Ashton wasn’t exactly sure what one did as the owner of a vineyard, really. “How’s Pierre?”

Ashton had always had the feeling that Pierre didn’t like her. When she gave him a kind smile or wished him a good morning, he merely gave a silent, curt nod and left the room, sometimes talking to Lucian in hushed tones, her name slipping into the whispers like thin, taunting mist. Maybe one day, preferably before the wedding, they’d amend whatever the hell it was that had been broken, and walk away friends. She would love nothing more than to be friends with her soon-to-be husband’s friends. Like Valter. She and Valter had their moments of warm camaraderie while they slowly dug a hole just big enough for friendship to fit in. She’d work on Pierre. Someday, he might even talk to her. Only time would tell.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

When Henry was gone, things would be wonderful. Gregory would sleep through a full night, Lucian and Ashton could flirt and kiss and make love without worrying about ‘getting caught’, and no one would make snide remarks about their every action.

Of course, much of that was wishful thinking. Gregory was an infant. Sleep patterns were still cementing themselves. Lucian and Ashton would still have to be careful around Gregory and Damien both. And someone was bound to say something to them about things, pass judgment; that’s just how people were. But Lucian would feel more like a man again in his own home, instead of this semi-emasculated version of himself who balked under Henry’s weighty judgments.

And once you had your confidence restored, Lucian was sure the rest came easily.

“Yeah. I’m thinking of making him a cook book of easy recipes of things he’s actually allowed to eat. Will he use it? Probably not, but, hey, at least I’m trying, you know?”

Lucian nodded. Truth be told, in Henry’s shoes, he’d likely eschew the health food to. Well, possibly. It was revoltingly rabbitish food. But now that he had two sons and a wife to worry about—

Wife. He liked being able to apply that word to Ashton. It wasn’t that far away now, their wedding.

“So how’s work going at the vineyards? Are you doing vinyardly things?”

Lucian chuckled. The vineyards were his family’s business; his business, now. But Lucian knew little about the “vineyardly” part of things. He preferred talking to the marketing executives, the tourism branch, and shipping. He was no good at farming and hadn’t the slightest clue what the cold weather meant for the plants which sustained their livelihood.

“How’s Pierre?” Ashton asked before Lucian could say anything.

Lucian licked the front of his teeth, thinking. He covered his mouth and an airy laugh escaped from behind his fingers.

“Pierre is Pierre,” he said, as he often did when describing his friend and associate. “He’s finally decided to let me marry you, though, so that’s a good thing.”

Perhaps that statement needed an explanation. Lucian lowered his hand and took Ashton’s.

“He doesn’t hate you, Ashton,” he assured her. “He thinks you’re too good for me, actually. That you deserve… Oh, what was it…? ‘A real Frenchman’. He said that the first time he met you; privately, of course. Lucian wasn’t one for threats or pleas, but the innuendo was too hungry, not teasing enough for him to laugh it off. He’d kept them apart on purpose. “Pierre’s jokes are innocent. He just doesn’t know when to stop. We had a long conversation over the weekend. I think you’ll see the results next time you come with me to the Vineyards.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

“Pierre is Pierre,” he said, which didn’t say much, but knowing Pierre, said just enough. “He’s finally decided to let me marry you, though, so that’s a good thing.”

It was good thing that they had his blessing, but she and Lucian hardly needed Pierre’s permission to get married. Hell, they hadn’t done anything regarding their relationship out of permission. If Pierre hadn’t approved, Lucian would have married Ashton anyways, and still send a warm and welcoming invite.

Married.

The word had a ring of finality in it that ricocheted around her skull for a moment or so. But Ashton didn’t see it as an end to bachelorette hood, but rather, a beginning of a life she would spend with someone loving her—all of her—and she loving him in his entirety. It was the start of something wonderful—an adventure until death parted them. No. Not parted. Allowed a temporary hiatus. Through sickness and health, he would be there, having and holding her, loving and cherishing. And she would do the same for him, keeping a promise not out of obligation, but out of trust, honor, and, above all, love.

And no opinion—dad’s or friend’s—would change those vows.

“He doesn’t hate you, Ashton. He thinks you’re too good for me, actually. That you deserve… Oh, what was it…? ‘A real Frenchman’. He said that the first time he met you; privately, of course.” Ashton laughed, stroking Lucian’s thumb gently with her own. “Pierre’s jokes are innocent. He just doesn’t know when to stop. We had a long conversation over the weekend. I think you’ll see the results next time you come with me to the Vineyards.”

“I look forward to it.” Ashton said, smiling. She shivered as the door opened to let another batch of hungry diners in, and she drew her jacket close to her. She glanced outside at the frosted glass, where it finally looked like winter. Finally. She had been worried that their entire winter would be sunny and warm, defeating the purpose entirely of winter. She wondered if Gregory would ever get to see a white Christmas, or even if things like that existed anymore. “I don’t know if I want to work anymore,” Ashton said suddenly, the thought entering her mind quickly, then leaving like a lightning bolt, leaving some sort of astral marks clinging to the air as she said it. She didn’t know what possessed her to say it. Maybe it was the thought of Gregory growing up. The poor kid didn’t get a white Christmas in Paris, his mummy was younger than his brother, his daddy had an ex-wife. And he had a mummy who worked in a night club; a night club that skated on the thin borderline between elegant and trashy. No kid deserved to grow up with a mum who got her *ss grabbed by strangers and sang half naked suspended from the ceiling. She’d have to find something else to do. For her son’s sake.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Since they were teenagers, Pierre had been the good-looking one. The one who was never without a girlfriend, date, or crush. Meanwhile, Lucian, had been studious and awkward-looking. Pierre’s brand of charisma was boldness; a gutsy brand of confidence that inspired short-term affairs and relationships. Lucian, meanwhile, was what Pierre called “a serial monogamist”, who dated seldom and committedly. It was no surprise, then, that Lucian had been the one to marry, raise a family, and re-marry after his divorce. What surprised Lucian, though, was the lack of boundaries Pierre continued to have as both men eased into middle-age. If anything, Pierre got worse, simply because Lucian now had a younger fiancée and once you hit forty, caring what other people thought of you was passé. He’d say something slick, just under his breath, to watch Lucian grit his teeth and try to keep his cool.

“I’ve always preferred foreign women,” Pierre would say of Ashton, just out of her earshot. “Nothing like plucking a nice, English rose in her prime.”

“You aren’t funny,” Lucian would say through tight lips. “That’s my fiancée and I’ll have none of your jokes about her.”

“She’s too young for you.”

“She’s too taken for you.”

And so on.

Ashton didn’t know any of it until now because Lucian didn’t want her to feel threatened, violated, or insulted. Pierre was harmless. All bark, no bite, just trying to see what it took to get Lucian to snap. It had always been that way. But Lucian was putting an end to it starting now. The next trip to the Vineyards would see a changed Pierre, who respected the sanctity of marriage, even if he didn’t understand it.

“I look forward to it,” said Ashton.

Lucian smiled and rubbed her hand. He could feel her shiver as it made her fingers tremble. As far as Lucian was concerned, the cold weather could stay awhile. It was long overdue and the snow on the ground would thaw soon enough and replenish the soil in the Vineyards. Or something. Honestly, the frost was so mild that Lucian was surprised they didn’t have another surplus crop this year. Whatever he’d said as a MP, Global Warming was no hoax.

“I don’t know if I want to work anymore,” Ashton said abruptly.

Lucian, who had been smiling blithely, frowned.

“You can’t mean that,” he said, feeling rather lightheaded. “The Ashton I know would never say that.”

She’d come to Paris for her career. She wanted, if not stardom, then artistic satisfaction. She worked venue after venue, shift after shift. Lucian had seen her in shimmery ball gowns and leather bustiers as she sang and danced her way towards a better tomorrow. Even when pregnancy curtailed her dancing and singing, she took up teaching piano lessons out of their house.

Priorities changed, of course. And Lucian was almost certain this was to do with Gregory.

“Darling,” he said softer this time. “What I mean to say is, I will support whatever decision you make. However, if this is about Gregory—“

He was breaking his own rule, broaching the one topic they weren’t meant to discuss.

“—I want you to reconsider. Being a mum doesn’t mean sacrificing your personal and professional identity. You came here to make a career for yourself and I will do whatever it takes—whether that’s being a stay-at-home dad or setting up a daycare facility in both the Vineyards and corporate—to see to it that you don’t give up on those dreams.”