“I’m fairly sure she wants me dead.”
Marcel burst out in laughter, making me smile against my will. When he finally stopped, he said, “Ah, but you fell in love with a French-Canadian woman, my boy. You knew what to expect. Yes?”
I felt a burning behind my eyes—the same one I felt in my throat. “I had no idea what to expect. She stole my heart, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this.”
“She left?”
“She kicked me out.”
“And you let her?” he asked, his head tilting to the side as he looked at me critically.
His question threw me. “How was I supposed to stop her from kicking me out?”
“Beau, Beau, Beau. I thought you were smarter than that. If you find someone you love, someone you truly connect with, then they’re worth fighting for.”
“She’s given up on us.”
“Especially when they give up!” Marcel yelled, his right arm pointing to the ceiling. That is when you need to step up and have enough faith and courage for both of you.”
For the first time in days, my heart beat with an ounce of hope.
“Have you pictured yourself with her in ten, twenty, thirty years?”
My lips tipped up, because I had done that.
Many times.
Marcel chuckled and stood up. “That’s all I needed to know. Figure it out, Beau. Before it’s too late.”