The Billionaire And The Waitress (gxg)

19 - a tragedy

EVERY last thought in Adrien's mind evaporated. She wanted to tell Muse she could explain. She wanted to say it was a misunderstanding. But, as the priest continued on in his monotone about Christ, the saviour, Adrien remained perfectly still. No emotion touched her face―not a twitch, not a flicker, nothing. She knew it looked like she couldn't care less. It was a defence mechanism she'd honed for years. 

    Muse's words had been barely a whisper, barely a breath. To anyone watching them, with Adrien's blank face and Muse's serene expression, they were simply listening to the sermon. Just the average church-goers. 

    Only Adrien could feel the shock in her blood, the panic that stirred beneath her skin. And only she could see the clench in Muse's jaw, the barely stifled fury that radiated off her.

   "Please rise now," said the priest, voice echoing, "and repeat after me . . . the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit . . ."

    A great creak emanated around the room as people rose from their wooden pews, shoes shuffling, coat sleeves brushing against one another. Adrien stood, and Muse stood with her.

    "I'm going to the bathroom," said Muse, a whisper. "Come after me." A pause. "Or don't."

    And just like that, Muse was escaping. A soft chorus of "Excuse me," and "Pardon me," and "Sorry" trailed after her. Her footsteps faded as she disappeared down the aisle, towards the lobby of the church.

      Adrien felt rooted to the wooden pew. This, for some reason, felt like a turning point. It would change whatever was between them. Going after Muse would mean she owed her an explanation. 

     It would mean she cared.

     And of course Adrien cared. She couldn't deny that to herself. She had bought a museum for Muse after knowing her for three days. She had proposed after one. And just this morning, Adrien had made her breakfast―even though she could've called Margo, her housekeeper, even though she could've ordered anything in the world from any place at all. She cared―stupidly, irrationally, and far too much.

     She wished she didn't.

     God, she wished she didn't.

     It had been much easier, having flings, having hookups, when she felt nothing for the women. Muse and Adrien hadn't even really kissed. And still, Muse had the ability to make Adrien feel like this.

     I've lost my mind, Adrien thought. And before she knew it, she was squeezing past the people in her row, making her way down the centre of the aisle. Because there had never been a doubt, not really, that she'd go after Muse. No matter what it meant.

     Once she'd gently opened and shut the grand doors of the church, letting herself into the lobby, she zeroed in on the women's bathroom door with its little dress-wearing silhouette.

      She breathed in. The church smelled like incense and ash. 

      Then she walked towards it, purposefully, sharpening her nerves into confidence. No weakness was her mantra. She repeated it to herself daily. No weakness, but this wasn't her father, or another CEO, or some rich business prick. This was Muse.

      Adrien pushed open the bathroom door.

      Muse, leaning against the back wall, with her cloud of curly, dark gold hair falling into her eyes, had never looked so beautiful. She looked up as the door closed behind Adrien.

      The bathroom, besides them, was empty.

      "Hey," said Adrien.

      "Hi," said Muse.