Now, with my guts in a knot, my head ready to explode from pain, and my heart twisted and broken—I was more than ready to go home for a good cry.
“Geneviève!” Beau called from behind us. Darn it.
Jillian stopped and reached for my arm. I shrugged her off and kept walking to the doors. Once I pushed out into the open air, I was relieved not to see anyone gathered outside.
I was not in the mood for autographs.
“What the fuck, woman?” Beau snapped out, a bit out of breath. “Why won’t you stop?”
His hand felt warm and comforting on my arm as he pulled me to a halt. “I’m going home with Jillian,” I said, barely looking him in the eyes.
He shook his head. “Why the fuck would you do that when I’m right here? I told Jillian I’d take you home.” I could feel his eyes scour my face. “Christ, are you sick? Or is your head bugging you that bad?” His hand touched my forehead out of concern.
I ducked out of his grasp and started walking to Jillian’s car.
“Geneviève, what’s going on? Come home with me. I’ll warm up some soup or something so you can rest.” Beau put his arm around me, but I rushed forward, away from him. “What the hell is your problem?”
Beau snatched my hand up with his and my body jerked. “You! You are my problem!”
His face and entire demeanour changed instantly. He let go of my hand, and set his hands on his hips. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he said in French, in such a wickedly calm voice it more than freaked me out.
I answered him back in French, ready to cut loose, “I’m talking about us. This won’t work, Beau. We’re too different. We come from two completely different backgrounds.” I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to crack any further in half, but it was definitely possible.
Because right now, that was exactly what happened.
And it killed.
“First of all, we’re so alike, it’s frightening. Secondly, we come from the same background. And thirdly, I made love to you twelve fucking hours ago. What the hell’s changed in twelve goddamn hours?”
That killed even worse.
“That wasn’t making love, Beau. That was letting our emotions get the better of us. I should never have let you in my bed. I felt bad for you and for what you’d gone through. Sleeping with you again was a huge mistake.”
“What? Have you lost your mind?” he asked, leaning into me. His face was screwed up in anger. “We fucking connected, Geneviève. Don’t lie to me. I know exactly how you were feeling.”
This next part was going to hurt even more. “I was relieved that you were okay. I got caught up in the moment, but it won’t happen again. Now leave me alone, I’m going home with Jillian.” I turned my back on him and jogged to Jillian’s car.
“Do not do this to us!”
“It’s done, Beau! Go home!”
“Doyou want to talk about it?” Jillian asked as she drove while I sobbed uncontrollably in the passenger’s seat. I shook my head and blew my nose. Again.
She touched my arm. “Sometimes it helps to talk. You know I’m a vault, honey. Anything you tell me stays between us.”
I sniffled and said, “You—you—you know how sometimes you don’t want to answer my questions about Stuart?” Her eyes shot to mine and her face went blank. But she didn’t answer or even acknowledge my question. “Well, that’s how I feel right now. I love you and you’re my best friend. This whole Beau—” I cried again just saying his name, “situation is complicated. And I don’t feel like talking about it.”
Her eyes kept looking back at me as she drove, but I just stared straight ahead.
When we arrived home, I asked to borrow her sunglasses for the short distance to my door. I didn’t want the cameras catching sight of my swollen, red eyes. “Of course, Gigi. Anything of mine is yours. You know that.” Then she handed me her glasses, the look of sadness in her eyes was nearly too much to bear at the moment.
“Thanks. I’ll give them back to you at yoga in the morning.”
I rushed through the iron gates and up my steps.
Once I was finally inside, I slid down the back of my door and collapsed into a puddle of tears.