I shrugged my shoulders and smiled.
“And they faked a video of you and Beau in the back of a cab, making out like a couple of teenagers? Really, Gigi? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
Triple crap.
“Yeah, is that what you’re saying?” a deep voice boomed from the hallway. Beau stood there in his dress pants, no shirt, glaring at me like he wanted me to burst into flames.
“Umm,” was all I could think to say.
Quadruple crap.
“Beau, I didn’t know you were here. A gentleman downstairs said you were in your apartment,” Sienna said after she practically jumped off the couch.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Sienna?” he asked, his arms flying wildly out to the side as he spoke. “It’s not even seven in the morning. You just couldn’t wait to spread today’s venom around?” His eyes looked wild, and I was plenty glad they weren’t aimed at me.
Sienna straightened herself and answered, “This is a private conversation.”
He stepped closer to her. “One that you’ve apparently had before, I see. It’s not bad enough that you kept my own kids away from me for years, but you also have to fuck up my relationships, too?”
She took a few steps back, holding her matching white purse to her stomach. “I see you’re upset. I’ll give you some time to cool off.” Her voice was short and choppy.
“Oh, no, now is the perfect time, Sienna. This is when you fit in all your errands to screw with my life. I wouldn’t want to take time away from your spa treatments or shopping sprees after this.” Beau’s voice was sharp, loud, and vicious.
“Beau, you need to lower your voice,” I asked as calmly as my quivering voice would allow me.
Incidentally, he didn’t listen.
“You’re going around behind my back, making life decisions for me? I was with Geneviève when you showed up to tell me about the boys. You goddamn knew that, Sienna. I told you I was in love and that you and I had no chance of getting back together.”
“That was before I told you about the boys.”
His face formed a deeper frown. “And you thought the fact that you didn’t tell me about my sons would somehow make me fall in love—with you? Are you insane?”
Sienna’s face blanched as she looked at me.
Then Beau turned in my direction. He switched to French, and part of me was relieved that at least Sienna wouldn’t be able to hear what he said to me. Because from the look on his face, this was going to be a doozy.
“And you? You? She,” he said, flinging his arm out toward Sienna, “asks you to give me up?”
I pursed my lips together, but didn’t say a word.
“And you fucking do it?” he exploded, making me jump backward. “I tell you I love you. My mother gives you my goddamn earrings, Geneviève—my earrings,” he croaked out, and my heart broke as I listened to his words.
“You knew the significance of those earrings. Whoever I gave them to would one day be my,” he slapped his hand to his chest, “wife, Geneviève. And what does my future wife do when the first person asks her to step aside so she can have a fucking go at me?”
My lungs stopped working.
They just forgot how to breathe.
“You give me up? Just like that? I gave you everything. All that I had to give. I’ve never loved anyone before. Only you.”
He stopped for a moment, probably to catch his breath. He was practically gasping for air. “And you fucking give me away like last week’s newspaper. I’ll break my neck protecting you, but you give me away to anyone who asks. Nice, Geneviève. Real nice. And good to know now. Before I do anything else stupid—like put a fucking ring on your finger!”
Oh, his words cut.
And they cut deeper than I think any words ever had.
Other than when my mom had told me my dad died.
I don’t know how I found my voice, but I answered back in French while Sienna just stood there, stunned. “Beau, you don’t understand. I’m sorry, that’s not how it was,” I barely choked out before the tears started falling down my cheeks.
“You know what I would have done if someone asked me to give you up? Huh? I would have beat the ever-loving shit out of them.”
Then he turned back to Sienna once more. This time, his voice was so quiet and so calm, it freaked me out. “As for you?” he said, switching back to English, “The only reason I’m still talking to you is because you’re the mother of my children. That’s it.”
“I don’t know what I need to do to get that deranged idea out of your head. I’m never going back to you. Christ, even when we were together, you were still fucking that investment banker the entire time. Would you like me to leak that shit to the press? Huh?”
After that last dig, he grabbed his shirt from the couch and stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door so hard behind him that the pictures on the walls shook.