Maurice Bellamy started his morning in Cambridge, Massachusetts with a cup of steaming café au lait made to his liking by the lady of the house. The said house was a humble Cape Cod cottage; it was smaller than any house he had sheltered in after his Paris slum days, yet it held such deep and incomparable tranquility.
Standing behind the living room window, he basked in the quintessences the town could offer: solidly unbroken blue skies; maples and oaks, all dark red and brown and yellow under the summer sun; the conifers stood tall and gave off a greenish-yellow light.
On the roads and sidewalks of the town, there were fallen leaves that made a crackling when stepped upon and sent up such a sweet scent when crushed that it was only the very old who walked over them and thought of death and decay. And the townsfolk wasn't too bad either — particularly Delilah; the unlikely match for an opulent Frenchman like himself.
On the rocking chair left by the previous owner, Maurice seemed to have forgotten the problems he was facing — business conundrums, familial ultimatums, et cetera — they were lifted off his shoulders like a soaked towel after a day at the beach.
Delilah, in her sui generis nature, had occupied half his brain, while the other was by his strangely merciful daughter; if it wasn't for their relation, his mind would go to think she was orchestrating his downfall as he did with her. But she took him in, sheltered him from his vices and gave him a bed with a fresh pillow to lay his weary head on — it was only fair he gave her the benefit of the doubt.
In the master bedroom, Evelyn was seated at the dressing table; the stool was cushioned, making it easy to sit on for hours on end. "Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked while hooking a pearl earring into her earlobe.
"I'm not going to let you do this alone," Paul answered. He lackadaisically rolled his shirts and shoved them into a suitcase.
She let out a sigh of relief; having him around would make it easier for her to decline Bobby's invitation for a nightcap on their moonlit tryst — if he ever tries. "Bobby can be a bit touchy; he doesn't get along with everyone." But she wasn't foolish enough to not forewarn her lover of what he was getting into.
"If he's a gentleman, he'll leave you alone."
"It always seemed like he'd never leave me alone."
Flashbacks of Hyannis Port only three years ago rushed through Evelyn's disordered mind. One that stood out the most was when Bobby convinced her to give love a chance; to make that fateful decision on the night of her birthday. It all seemed beyond unfair when the storm no longer rage and the sun let its light bleed on the event — what kind of man forces love?
Paul hastily tightened his shoelaces so he could console his lover. He got off their queen bed and laid his hands on her bony shoulders. "Don't give in to him. He feeds off attention, Evelyn, the one you often give him," he said in an aggressive yet guiding manner.
It shook her to the core when he had been right in every deduction he made of Bobby — he was an excellent judge of character. "You're right. You're always right," she sighed.
"Come on, your dad's waiting." Paul bent down to get a grip on his suitcase, along with Evelyn's.
She was left alone in the room. With a hand on her neck, she massaged her tensed muscles and took another breath, turning into a completely different woman. Her nerves were calmed and an everlasting smile was on her face — her usual façade returned.
"I see you take good care of Chartreuse," said Maurice as his daughter descended the steps of the house. He was leaning against the vehicle, arms crossed, reminiscing on the youthful memories the old car had brought him.
"Paul's a good mechanic if you ought to know. He replaced the battery on his own." Evelyn found it to be the perfect moment to flaunt her lover.
"Really?" Her father was indeed impressed as it wasn't an easy job; he knew so as he repaired everything when he was broke.
"Yeah, saved a ton of cash from that." She slyly smiled when her plan seemed to work. The trunk of the car was opened wide by her to check on the suitcases, making sure none was missing. Afterward, there was nothing left to do than wait for Paul to return with Bastille after his walk.
"You hit the jackpot..." Maurice quipped as he warmed up to Paul faster than he anticipated.
"Oh, yes... he's my big and brave and handsome Romeo," Evelyn sang off-key as she locked the door to her house.
Her father tried reading her body language; he acknowledged her consternation underneath all the smiles she gave him, but where it ensued from, he did not know nor did he want to know. He reached into his pocket for a new pack of Gauloises only to be reminded of Delilah. "Evie, are you sure about bringing Paul along?" He carefully inquired.
"What's the problem?" Evelyn smeared the sweat on her forehead as she wiped it off with the back of her hand.
"It's just that..." He paused with furrowed brows and squinted eyes from the cigarette smoke.
"What?"
"Nothing." Her aggression had Maurice waving his hand in a dismissive gesture — it's not worth the argument.
The daughter was ready to retort, but the devil walked into view as they spoke of him. "Alright, Bastille has crapped and pissed all over the big conifer. He's ready!" He informed the two people in a rather interesting language.
"Gee, Paul, beautiful mouth you got..." Evelyn redirected her discontent for her father to her lover.
"So I've been told!" But Paul was too silly to read the room — or the outdoor — from being a "pleb" and all.
"Tres charmant..." Maurice made his way to his car, partly amused and partly embarrassed of the couple.
Evelyn agreed with her father's sentiment for once. "Alright, in the crate you go, buddy." She cautiously shoved Bastille into his new house for the next hour.
"What did your dad say?" Paul had his eyes following Maurice's movements.
"He said you're an idiot."
"No, he didn't! I didn't hear a single crétin." His foolish response gained him nothing good; just a disappointed look from the woman.
Paul was driving that day. He wanted to be useful for once, and Evelyn didn't care for it as it'd reflect well for her father and, eventually, mother to see. Her sealed lips and vacant green eyes told Paul exactly what he needed to know; she was in a world of her own.
Once in a while, he'd reach for her hand and it'd be limp — she was practically lifeless, while Bastille was lively as ever; barking in the crate like it was a veterinary visit. It was, but not for him.
"What are you thinking about?" Paul ultimately asked as he realized they were within a few miles of the beach.
"My mother," Evelyn lied through her teeth — unless, of course, Julia had grown half a foot taller, fifty pounds heavier, and changed her name to Robert Francis Kennedy.
"What about her?"
"Just how upset she'll be." Her blood pressure rose from all the questions.
"Will she?"
She nodded at yet another question. "But that's not the worst part—it's the passive aggression in her voice. God, that fucking voice she put on every time I do something remotely wrong." She had clenched her fists, and when she noticed this, she released them immediately for it wasn't her. It wasn't something the Evelyn everybody knew and loved would do. She released the fury that was boiling underneath her skin with a long sigh.
Then the familiar salty air of Hyannis Beach hit her out of nowhere, and she was washed over with comfort. It was a phenomenon only the locals could get used to as Paul was the only one making faces at the peculiar taste on the tip of his tongue.
"Hey, if it gets too much... you just tell me, OK? We'll leave right away, nothing and no one will stop us." Paul's words of encouragement were needed, but Evelyn had to restrain herself from scoffing — if Bobby hadn't moved on, he'll do anything to keep her there until he got what he wanted.
"You're being so good to me." She cupped her lover's chiseled face in her hand and caressed it ever so gently.
Paul had a smile on his face, but his heart wished for her mask of insouciance to be removed around him.
"I've missed sailing," said Evelyn when the familiar sight of the beach came into view. Her headspace was bombarded by vivid images of Bobby and the rest of his family sailing the ocean on Victura.
What I would give to travel back in time and feel the sun on my skin, salt water beneath my body, and love on my mind...
"We can do that later?" Paul laid his eyes on the ocean that shared the same color as his baby blues.
"You bet your ass we will! It'll wear you out so quick, you're gonna wish you didn't come." Evelyn wasn't about to let him underestimate the power that the sea held over anyone bold enough to sail it.
Maurice groaned out of both exhaustion and excitement as he parked his once-pawned car on the lawn; beside the main entrance to give a bigger space for his daughter. He exited the blue Buick, waving his arm frantically at Paul who already knew where their house was — it was one of the few houses that were big enough to be considered a compound.
A woman hastily approached Maurice from their house, tugging at his arm. "You did it! You brought her home!" She went for a hug, to which he hesitantly reciprocated.
"You don't want to know how I did it," he murmured with a hint of sarcasm.
"Evie!" Julia let go of her husband and outstretched her arms, forcing another person into her embrace — Evelyn, too, was reluctant to hug back.
"Ma... how are you?" The girl culpably sighed when Maurice's words at the diner re-emerged in her head: your mother cries herself to sleep every night! — as manipulative as it was, she was still her mother.
"Oh, how I've missed you, ma fille!" Julia unabashedly planted kisses on Evelyn's powdered cheek.
"Well... here I am." She gently pushed her mother away to bring Paul into the spotlight. "This is my boyfriend, Paul. He's an actor, just what I aspire to be." She observed her mother's smile faded and quickly reappeared when the word actor was uttered — how typical.
"Ma'am," Paul politely said, lending a hand.
"Call me Julia." The woman shook his hand, giving him her blessing, as she had thought he was in the same echelon as her next-door neighbors.
"Who do you have over?" Maurice chimed in when his wife wouldn't let go of the hand and he noticed the uneasiness in the boy's eyes.
"Oh, it was everyone. But they left— Bobby and Ethel are here, though." She eventually released her handgrip, returning Paul to her daughter.
Evelyn knew what she meant by everyone: it was some of the Kennedy kids — never the elders, except for holiday dinners (and anything that discussed her future). "Bobby and Ethel? Great!" She feigned joy, giving Paul a please-kill-me look that only earned her a comical shrug. "Well, let's surprise them, shall we?"
As they entered their house, the Bellamys headed straight into the living room while Paul hung back after feeling the pressure of being too crass for them.
The young woman scanned the room with only one man in mind. She suppressed the urge to smile ear to ear when she found him to be in a white polo shirt and black shorts — his favorite summer outfit.
"Robert Kennedy, as I live and breathe!"
The blue eyes that she had missed so very badly shifted onto her almost immediately as she exclaimed those witty words in her enchanting voice.
"Fucking hell, Eve!" It was clear as day that the man couldn't contain his excitement; he sprang out of the couch to give her the firmest hug. Bobby's strong hands held tightly onto the little flesh on Evelyn's arms, so strong that she had to accept her fate of being in his embrace for eternity.
"I've missed you." His smile dropped when he whispered the words; he wasn't sad or angry over what had happened, but Evelyn understood what meant by the simple act of dropping the smile. There was an air of secrecy surrounding the two that others failed to decrypt.
"I'm sorry for disappearing on you like that..." she felt as though she had betrayed him when his eyes were imbued with tenderness.
He shook his head as if to purge the sinful thoughts he was having when his hands were casually lowered to be on her waist. "I'm just glad you're alright, Eve." He had completely forgotten about his wife standing behind him, waiting for her turn to exchange niceties. "I gotta say, you look good!" He exclaimed unapologetically, and the flash of alarm in Evelyn's green eyes told him to behave.
"I've, uh, been exercising more— had to compensate sailing," Evelyn replied in a cool manner — nothing suspicious here, Ethel.
"We need to sail again. Jack's here, he might like the idea, too." At last, Bobby, with a heavy heart, took his hands off of her.
"Actually..." she glanced at the entrance, signaling Paul to join the conversation.
Bobby inhaled deeply, preparing himself for the disappointment — he knew exactly who would be walking in.
"Paul was just talking about that!" Evelyn gleefully thrusted her boyfriend into the circle.
"H-hey, how are ya?" Paul cleared his throat, pretending not to be starstruck by the Congressman's brother. They naturally shook hands — how firm. Firmer than Julia's or Maurice's grips.
"I'm good as ever. Evelyn told me so much about you, it's great to finally put a face to the name," Bobby suavely responded as if he had waited for the moment to come.
"Ah, right. This mug of mine..." Paul deprecated his statuesque self for the sake of easing the tension — it paid off when everyone innately felt inclined to chuckle.
Ethel Kennedy came into view when she laid a hand on her husband's arm, asking him to step aside. "Eve." She gave a soft smile to the woman of the hour.
"Eth..." Evelyn responded in a knowing tone, the inside joke did not go unnoticed when Bobby snorted loudly. "You are glowing!" Once her gaze was lowered to Ethel's stomach — she froze.
Like a Gypsy goddess, she could see the image of the child very clearly in her headspace: the locks of brown hair swaying freely on her head like Aphrodite herself was playing with them; the eyes with an indescribable tint that could only be the result of Ethel's brown and Bobby's blues mixing were gazing directly into her broken soul; and the wonderful smile she was seeing unexpectedly warmed her heart.
"Pregnancy glow. I was like that, too— with you," Julia chimed in, subtly enlightening her daughter with similar knowledge in her mind.
It was bittersweet. In a million different ways. Evelyn didn't smile nor frown when the vision of the unborn child being as noble as her father and beautiful as her mother emerged; she could only watch the moon eclipsing the sun.
"Oh my, he's kicking..." Ethel's motherly voice drew Evelyn out of her conflicting thoughts — she almost corrected the woman on the pronouns but refrained.
"He sounds feisty!" Paul jokingly added.
"Yes, he is... Feel it, Eve." Ethel, unaware of her selfish demeanor, gripped and placed Evelyn's hand on the bump of her stomach.
When she felt the fetus kicking with all her might, Evelyn's heart sank and the inside of her nose tingled with pain — she was about to cry. "Whew, that's... something else." She refrained once again from saying what she was thinking — she reckoned a fight would break if she slipped.
"He's kicking a lot this trimester. Should name him after Kick," Bobby piped up while intentionally placing his hand above Evelyn's trembling one.
They locked eyes for a bewildering moment before she yanked her hand away. She pondered on what could've been; that it could've been her who was pregnant with an eight-month child. Pangs of sadness, anger, and despair hit her all at once.
"Evelyn? Are you alright?" Paul tapped on her shoulder to quickly pull her back into reality.
"Oh, sorry! I was following a train of thoughts," she said, along with an awkward grin.
"All good. I know how strange it is. I mean, there's a human growing in me!" Ethel's excitement for Kick was heartwarming to Evelyn; she didn't think she'd be as happy in her position — so everything that had happened happened for a good reason.
Paul unintentionally gave a comical nod as he tried to respond in his lover's place.
"Oh, we forgot about Bastille!" Evelyn exclaimed before hastily excusing herself from the crowd.
On the way out, she noticed the knowing glance somebody was giving her — she begged him, only in her head, to stop with all the attempts at reviving something that should've died a long time ago.
"Bastille? Who's that?" Ethel asked with a pair of furrowed eyebrows.
"Oh, you'll see!" Paul jokingly winked at the puzzled crowd before going after his lover.
"Hey, you okay?" He approached Evelyn as she stared vacantly into the distant horizon — the horizon that didn't seem to have an end when she'd sail.
"I'm okay. It was getting too stuffy in there," she answered, physically unmoved.
Paul tentatively nodded, he also felt incredibly out of place amongst those people. "Don't you worry about the luggage. I'll take care of it." He made himself useful once more by picking up most of the suitcases they brought, but Bastille was left for Evelyn to handle.
"Ah, Bastille is a dog!" The familiar voice startled the woman as she was freeing the animal.
"By God, you scared the life out of me... Yes, this is Bastille, the love of my life." She watched Bobby crouching to pet the Dalmatian who was happy to be out and about again.
"Who's a good girl?" He rhetorically asked, using both hands to stroke the misgendered dog and completely ignoring the fine hairs dispersing wildly in the wind.
This time, Evelyn wasn't afraid to correct him, "That's a he." Though it didn't seem to matter as undying love for the dog had taken over him.
"Go on. Good boy, Bastille!" Bobby stood back up, brushing off the white lint on his black shorts.
Once Bastille was out of sight, sprinting into the house and shocking the oblivious people in it, the man joined Evelyn by leaning against her Cadillac.
"You looked emotional in there. You alright?" He already had a guess of his own, but he had to ask.
"I just haven't been around pregnant women much. Babies are God's miracle, right?" She answered calmly, but her eyes were saying otherwise.
"You don't believe in Him." Bobby pushed her for a better lie.
"There is more to babies than just sperm cells and eggs." Her lack of formality was shocking, but he was relieved that she didn't build walls to keep him out — Paul couldn't say the same.
"I see they're teaching you important stuff at Harvard. There is more to it, though, you're right." That made them laugh, and Evelyn had forgotten just how much she missed listening to the man's naturally shy laugh — he was always like that; easygoing yet insecure with the little things like his laugh.
"Hey, I'm glad you're home," he blurted out, giving her a glimpse of his true feelings — the ones that he had been hiding because of the mere ring on his finger.
"Me, too."
"A whole goddamn year without you feels like..." he sighed aloud, turning his sky-blue eyes heavenward to find the right words. "It's like that time you left for Paris!"
Evelyn scoffed rather loudly, "That was almost a decade ago."
"Yeah, and? I still remember that yearning feeling." He had no problem expressing his love for her; as long as it was the same love written in Plato's Symposium — entirely ethereal, not at all carnal.
"Oh, it was for a month! You're being melodramatic." Evelyn couldn't hold back her laughter; she was surprisingly relaxed that it didn't feel wrong when she nudged Bobby in the ribs.
"Only for you," he noted through a devilish grin.
Flustered, Evelyn softly muttered, "You haven't changed a bit." Her hand slipped into her pocket, retrieving a Luckies.
"I still know how to make you blush, if that's what you mean." Bobby was unashamed of himself, he even went as far as lighting the cigarette for her.
"You better behave, Kennedy." She blew smoke against his face as an attempt to break him out of the love spell put on by the grinning Devil under the guise of a Cupid.
The conversation abruptly turned sour when Evelyn asked an unrelated question, "So... July. Getting closer. You ready?"
The subtle smile on Bobby's face faded, and the completely nonsexual tension between them vanished into thin air. He cleared his throat, "To be a dad? Hell, no. I'm scared." The ground became much more interesting to look at. "But Ethel's convinced I'd be a good dad."
Evelyn nodded defeatedly — she agreed with Ethel, but had always had a different idea of whose père he would be. "I think so, too. You're good at whatever you put your mind to."
The man's sly smile had Evelyn worrying about just what was brewing in his head. "Paul is obviously good at charming you," he muttered, jokingly or not, she did not know.
"What?" Was all she could muster to say.
"You seem in love! Sharing the same home and all..."
She sensed a sarcastic undertone. "Well, I..." The scarlet tint re-emerged on her cheeks as she nervously took a drag from her cigarette — it showed Bobby just how far he was going.
"Hey, I'm just teasing you..." He patted her hand.
Silence once again descended upon them, but Paul was there to break it as he came into view.
"Speak of the devil..." Bobby murmured to her, giving the other man a polite smile and subsequently leaving them alone.
"Oof. You're either sunburned or extremely blushing. I can never tell," Paul joked as he took Bobby's place beside the woman. "Hey, so, am I going to meet the Congressman?"
No answer — there was only brooding silence that appeared out of nowhere.
"Evelyn?"
"Wha- yeah, yeah, sure..." She blurted out, flicking away the cigarette that almost burned her finger.
"What happened?" He crossed his arms, the other man might have said something to offend her.
"Oh, nothing... I'm just thinking," she coolly answered and wiped the sweat beading on her forehead. "Yeah, you'll meet Jack. Careful though, he can be a bit... what's the word again?"
"Feisty? It seems like they're all feisty," he correctly answered with his sight locked on Bobby who was on the beach; skipping rocks like a child.
"The feisty Kennedys," she sighed, noticing the target of Paul's cunning eyes. "Who always has to be one step ahead of everyone and everything."
"Unpleasant."
"And I had to live with them almost my whole life, imagine that!" She almost threw up in her mouth saying that; it was unlike her to badmouth the Kennedys behind their backs — sure, they had done worse to the Bellamys, but it wasn't what she used to.
When Paul amusingly laughed, however, she felt relieved. It convinced her that she no longer worshipped the ground Bobby walked on.
"There's still some suitcases I left downstairs. Wanna help me get 'em up?" Paul approached the steps of the house, looking back at her.
"Sure. And sorry, I know I overpacked."
The couple proceeded to bring the suitcases up to Evelyn's bedroom, where Paul wouldn't stop teasing her about the books on the bookshelf. "No wonder you're always in the blues, look at this! It's all philosophical shit; no comics or pulp fiction." He went through a Hemingway absentmindedly.
"You ought to read them, Paul. Or don't— ignorance is a bliss," she snapped back in a subtle tone.
"Wow, that's unfair. I'm no idiot!" The man placed the book back where it belonged and approached his lover on the bed.
"I didn't say that—"
"Well, you sure as hell implied it." He folded both arms against his chest, awaiting her apology, but she doubled down by mimicking his body language.
"All right already. I'm sorry for telling you to wisened up, it's not like my parents are the smartest people I know and will test you at dinner." She gave a half-assed apology as she tried to speak the only language he knew.
"So you think they won't accept me because I'm... lower class?" Realization quickly dawned on him; Evelyn had been so accepting of his background that he'd forgotten about her family being a part of the Massachusetts royalty.
"Paul, don't be absurd. They're not cruel— at least not to other people," she said, correcting herself midway. "But they do have high expectations for me. So unless you're the President's son, you better start working on yourself."
Paul did not take it well as his confidence plummeted and the usual gleam in his otherwise lustrous eyes faded in a mere second. And his lover intransigently watched it happen — unmoved and disaffected. "What the hell did Bobby say to you?" He uttered in such a disturbing way; the tone, the enunciation — everything about it screamed revulsion to Evelyn.
But he wasn't completely wrong, Bobby was warming up to her, and he could see through her as she was an open book that Paul had read over and over without boredom setting in.
"Why do you have to make it about him? This is about us." She emphasized the last word — it's about us, not the man I have mixed feelings about.
Paul raised his voice, "You've been acting strange!" Then lowered it again as he realized the door was wide open and his voice could easily travel the whole house. "Don't blame me for your behavior; I've been nothing but supportive to you."
It shook her to the core; in the last three hundred and sixty-five days, not once did they ever have a quarrel, but the second they stepped foot in Hyannis Port, everything seemed to crumble little by little — and it had only been an hour since their arrival.
"Fine, I'll read books by some pretentious fucks if that satisfies you." He defeatedly threw his hands in the air and turned on her, unwilling to see the anguished face. Although before he reached the bookshelf, he spun around to deliver a late riposte, "Oh, and the President? He doesn't have a son. So who's the idiot now?"
Evelyn was appalled — it was rhetorical, not literal, Paul! Oh, how she wished to be the smaller and not bigger person if it wasn't for her status. She parted her lips to talk back but noticed a silhouette of a man standing by the door, awkwardly waiting for their conversation (or argument) to end. "Bobby? What's going on?" She asked once she recognized him, even uncrossing her arms and legs to appear more approachable.
"Uh, hey. Your father called for Paul just now." Bobby averted his eyes on Paul, implying he wanted him gone.
"Oh, did he now?"
The unexpectedly catty response from Paul was a little strange, but nothing unusual to him. "Yep," he nonetheless kept it simple.
Paul heaved a frustrated sigh and carelessly slammed the book he was holding on a desk.
Bobby furrowed his brows as he noticed what he perceived was a frightened look from Evelyn.
"Wish me luck," he bitterly quipped to his lover as he left the room.
"The hell was that?" Bobby asked once he was out of earshot.
"You caught us at a bad time is all," Evelyn answered before putting her long hair into a twisted bun.
"Does he ever hit you?" He casually inquired as he sat beside her on the tidied bed.
"Bobby, enough. You know nothing about us." She was offended by his words — it seemed as though he thought he had the right to know every little thing about her relationship.
"So..." he sighed. "What's going on, Eve? Half a year— no call, no letter."
She also sighed, albeit hers was far more warranted. "You know I'd stay in contact if I wasn't so busy."
"No, I get it. I just..." Bobby shrugged and think for a second. "...just missed you is all."
Then their eyes met — and the effort they put into being purely platonic almost crumbled from that look alone.
"Well, I'm here." Evelyn was the first to break eye contact, trying to remain civil.
"And I'm the happiest man alive." Then he followed suit, remembering she was someone else's — and Paul seemed to be able to throw a jab or two.
"You've become sillier since I last saw you," she quipped when the things escalated too fast for her liking.
Nobody should leave them in the same room alone, that was proven to be a recipe for disaster a long time ago. Yet... there they were.
The two former lovers had nothing to say — nothing morally right, anyway — so they sat in the uncomfortable silence, letting it get quieter and quieter by the second before ultimately consuming them whole.
Outside the house, Paul found the elder Bellamy blowing smoke into some indiscernible figures; he chuckled to himself as his finger tried to manipulate it into a shape of some sort. The younger man approached him slowly so as not to startle him.
"Paul! Why don't you and I rig the boat for sailing?" Maurice was smiling ear to ear before he even saw Paul, it was undoubtedly a strange sight.
"Oh, are we going to the boathouse?"
The boathouse — not the one Evelyn mentioned about, that was the Kennedys' — he initially found the whole misunderstanding with Bobby and Ted hilarious, but after today... he understood why the younger boy snapped.
"We certainly are, garçon. Come." Maurice gestured at his daughter's inamorato to follow along.
With the sun blazing on his face, Paul felt the need to distract himself from the long walk, so he asked, "Mr. Bellamy, just how grand is our Congressman?"
Maurice snickered at the question, it was clear that Paul must have been some kind of fanatic to ask such a laughable question. "I've known Jack since he was only eighteen. He may be a Congressman to you and everyone else, but he'll always be the sickly troublemaking boy to me." It seemed like it was only yesterday that he'd heard the story of Jack almost getting expelled from school for exploding a toilet seat with a firecracker — how he wished he could travel back to that time and his daughter having trouble pronouncing "rural" was the only worry he had.
"Oh, I believe he's more than that," Paul told him, drawing him out of his thoughts.
"What did Evelyn tell you?" Maurice jestingly elbowed the young man in the ribs.
"From what she told me, the Kennedys are... acerbic?" Paul chuckled after seeing the knowing look on the old man's face.
"You don't have to use big words with me. I heard you and her talking, calling the Kennedys feisty," Maurice called out, his index and middle fingers on each hand flexing at the word.
"Yeah, well, she's certainly not wrong!"
"She didn't always think that way." Suddenly, the Frenchman's tone was serious and grim, changing the nature of their conversation.
"Well, I know she and Bobby had something going on before his father ruined it," Paul replied, oblivious to Maurice's involvement in aiding and abetting the master plan.
"Oh, mon Dieu." The old Judas came to a halt. "She told you everything, huh? How it was all my fault?"
That told Paul something Evelyn failed to do; that her father was in on it. "What do you mean by that?" He inquired, eyes squinting no longer at the sun but at Maurice.
"Nothing." The older man furiously shook his head while walking ahead of Paul.
And with that, their interaction abruptly ended — the sound of seagulls communicating with one another and ocean waving filled the quietude instead.
"Listen, Paul..." Maurice broke the silence. "I shouldn't be saying this..." He took another halt.
Paul wondered when they'd be at the boathouse at that rate.
"Bobby is the one to look out for," said Maurice without an ounce of regret.
Paul scoffed, "I'm not worried about him. I mean, he's got a pregnant wife, for God's—"
"Don't underestimate just how much he loves Evie."
It scared him, those words, scared that it might hold some truth. "Look, I don't appreciate you doing this behind Evelyn's back. If you have something to say about her, then you should say it to her. Not me," Paul explained, as it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. He was upset with Evelyn after what happened in the bedroom, but at least she was honest with him — always had been — it wasn't an excuse for him to be doubtful.
"I'm sorry I'm overreacting." Maurice nodded sympathetically, "But it's better if I say something than nothing at all. I value you, Paul. You're good for my daughter."
It seemed like a disguised flattery, though Paul couldn't help but be satisfied with his performance so far.
"Listen to me when I say keep an eye on Bobby Kennedy," Maurice crucially added.
And as much as Paul loved Evelyn, he was torn on whether to let her befriend Bobby again or be possessive for the sake of maintaining their relationship.
Another thing he worried about was that he had left her to be with the other man in the bedroom — alone.
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PS: Hi, all! Welcome back to another chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. I'm trying my best to keep a consistent schedule, but I'm only human! So, please comment on what you think about the story so far. See you next time, lovelies x