♡
Michael's POV
"I forgive you."
Uncle Jacques shifted in his seat, wiping away his tears.
The suitcase had fallen onto the ground with a loud thud. Uncle stretched with a smile.
Uncle and I had landed in Paris. My driver had picked us up on the dot and had driven him to his home. While we drove there, I quickly booked a hotel room, stubbornly insisting I needed this alone time.
This was so weird – I had sworn I would never set foot in Paris again, unless it was for business matters only. I didn't want to see the most beautiful city be happy and full of life when my little brother had passed away here. I didn't want to see the man who had raised him and had watched him die with us.
I didn't want to remember the nurses beside Bastien's bed, along with the beeping medical machines around him as he weakly smiled at us. His face, the shadow around his eyes, the pale yellowish colour of his skin and the many dots of the sickness that would drag him into his grave at such a young age were a heart-breaking image in my mind. The round stone was heavy in my pocket and I touched it, hoping it would calm me down. My palms were sweaty, and my knees were shaky.
My driver dropped my uncle off at his loft and he tried to invite me in for the nth time. I denied. "Very well, I won't be stubborn", my uncle got out the car. I helped him with his suitcase. "Michael; if you need me, you know what to do. You better call me regularly from now on or you can expect me at your door."
He drew me into a sudden hug. After a few surprised seconds, I hugged him back as tightly. "I'm proud of you. I know you will accomplish anything you set your mind on. You can do this."
"Thank you", I whispered.
The receptionist was very kind to me once she read my name, immediately checking me in and leading me to the room herself. I quickly took everything from her and sent her away. I had a few hours until the meeting.
I threw myself onto the bed with an awful pattern and stared at the ceiling. I took out my phone from my dress pants and contacted Jessica. She didn't respond to my message, so I called Hamish next to see what was going on with the company.
"Michael, how nice of you to call at 6 in the morning." Shit. How did I forget about the time difference?
"I'm so sorry Hamish, did I wake you up?"
"No, I woke up five minutes ago."
That's why his voice was raspy. "I won't bother you then."
"Better now than later. What's up?"
"Care to inform me about my company?"
I heard Hamish walk somewhere in the background of the call. "Give me a moment, boss. You always call when I'm unprepared."
"Always expect the unexpected."
"Why is it that I always hear those words out of your mouth?", he snickered. "Ah, there it is. So, a short summary of what happened this week: We were all over WSJ. The article-"
"Was about my sudden disappearance, the unknown reason why I left and you getting the green light to step into my position for the time being. The next article explained there was a family problem and that's why I left."
Hamish let down the paper and stared at his phone. How did his boss know that?
"You read the latest issue?"
"This morning. My uncle called them and lied about the latter. It's better than to say: 'he has problems with a girl and lost it'."
"Which I will never forgive you, by the way", Hamish mumbled. "Either way, our stocks didn't change drastically, they are still in the green sector. My statement and your uncle's quickly saved the numbers from falling. The deal with the Green's was approved and they are calculating the sum of money they'll borrow from our company. Naturally I got the best deal out of it. The interest is quite high, and we'll make a profit once they start paying back the credit, unless they pay it back immediately, but they don't have the money to do so."
I let that go through my head. "Good. Did you invest into the stocks I was eyeing?"
"You were faster than me, so no. But I'm keeping an eye on them in return. I already sold one because it was falling quite drastically suddenly."
I didn't want to comment on that. I hadn't seen the chart, so I wouldn't judge him. Hamish wasn't bad either when it came to stocks. "Alright. Did the employees return?"
"Almost all of them but Jefferson."
"He wanted to quit anyways", I shrugged.
"They went right back to work. I have to give it to you Michael, I thought you are just sitting in your office and doing nothing all day long, but I was wrong. How do you manage everything so easily?"
"You aren't there when I curse the companies out."
"Melinda says I'm much worse than you are."
"Melinda's just being nice to me", I laughed. She had seen me in many, many states. "Is there anything else noteworthy?"
"I sent you an email with all the figures you keep an eye on; so basically, everything from turnover to expenses."
"Thank you."
I looked over the email and then went to the bathroom to take a shower. I massaged my stiff muscles, but nothing helped – I was still nervous. What would Jessica say? How would uncle Jacques react?
Around 2 pm I was ready. I had picked the first suit I had found, which was a black piece with a dark green tie, went to the company and after a three-hour long meeting, I returned to my room with a full briefcase and a new deal. Hamish reacted lavishly and instantly got to it, while I leaned back in my chair and played with my phone.
The food brought to me from the hotel wasn't attracting my appetite, but I forced myself to at least eat the vegetables. The rose didn't taste half bad and I memorized the label for a home-shopping trip later.
Had uncle Jacques changed his number? Only one way to find out.
"Beaumont?"
I held my breath for a few moments. His voice was still high and light, just the raspy tone that followed his words was new. That came with age, I guessed. He was 50 now, five years younger than mother.
"Uncle Jacques. Is that you?"
There was an awfully long silence on the other line.
The clock ticked loudly, the hand moved ever so slowly. Faces passed on the muted TV.
I counted the seconds that went by. My eyes darted over the awful bedsheet's flowery red and green pattern, and I started counting them. At 58, he spoke again.
"M-Michael?"
"Oui. C'est moi."
"Mon dieu – my ears must be deceiving me! Michael, Michael I can't believe it. Did something happen? Are you two alright? You swore to never talk to me again – why are you-?"
"Can I come by? Today?" I played with the pen in my hand.
I heard him let out an unsure sound, then heard him walk around for a while.
"Of course you can – I'm just-"
"Did your address change?"
"N-no-I-"
"Can I come now?"
"Of course. I-I'll await you with dinner. Are you hungry?"
♡
Now here we were.
Cinquième 5e arrondissement. A tall apartment building that was shabby on the outside but modern on the inside. Many students and young adults lived here, uncle Jacque had moved here at a young age back then too.
It was located south-east of the centre, near Notre Dame and was moderate in housing costs. You could buy anything here and everything was within walking distance. The only bad thing about this surrounding was the ridiculous parking costs. He had opened the entrance door immediately once I had rung the bell.
Uncle Jacque and I sat in front of each other. The living room had stayed the same, still after 16 years I hadn't been here. Brown and small with black furniture.
In front of me sat the man who had reached out for my parents to save my brother. The man I had blamed for not acting sooner or going against the law as a child. The adult me knew better now, but when the death of your brother was still fresh, you blamed anybody for anything.
Even yourself.
One year short of signing the paper. One year short of saving my own brother.
My parents had neglected us; mother had worked in her company, father had raised his two sons from another woman, the woman he had married in the end and cheated on mother with.
I even blamed Uncle Jacques who had to watch little Bastien die.
He poured me water and brought me coffee, shifting in his seat. I took a deep breath.
"I forgive you, Jacques. I was childish to blame you for his death. You had done everything and anything you could, but as a child I didn't understand that. I said things to you that were hurtful and not true. You weren't neglectful, you loved Bastien as much as we did, you weren't a heartless uncle and you didn't look after him just for the money. You weren't at fault for his death. You weren't the reason for his downfall."
My uncle's lips were shaking.
"I'm so sorry for behaving the way I did. Can you find it in your heart to try and give me another chance? Sébastien would have wanted me to give us another chance. I blamed you for nothing and I forgive you, I hope you can too."
Jacques took my hands and sobbed. I bent over the table and drew him into a careful hug. "I was so scared I lost you two – I never wanted Sébastien to die; I did everything I could, everything that I was legally allowed to do; but my hands were tied too much in the end."
"I know. It's alright", I mumbled.
"Michael – I'm so glad you are here. I'm so glad you are giving me another chance, my little boy", his hug was bone crushing. "Every day I was scared that I had lost you forever. Every day I'm blaming myself for everything."
"You shouldn't. Neither should I. I forgive you uncle. I'm sorry for having said those things to you."
It was 2 a.m. when I came back to my hotel again.
Jacques and I had talked and talked and talked, until both our voice had grown hoarse. We had talked about memories, family, what it meant to us to have forgiven each other, how life had been with Bastien in it; basically anything. I told him about what I had done after his death. How I had moved to the states to go to University, had a psychologist for a few years, opened my own company and was still running it.
My uncle told me he knew and brought a box full of newspaper slips which were reporting about my company or me. My heart grew heavy as he told me he had ordered the latest WSJ issue because they had mentioned me.
Jacques spoke with so much love in his voice about my little brother that I feared his death hadn't been easy on him. And I had been harsh to him once Sébastien had passed, as if he was to blame for the sickness and not my parents.
I felt bad for my actions, but back then fury and anger had gotten to me after Sébastien had quietly passed away on his bed in his little bedroom. I had promised him I would never give up and look forward, but I had done the opposite the moment he had left our lives.
At the end of my visit, I had gone up to my little brother's room and placed his rock on the middle of his bed, kissing it before I went home.
Now I tried to atone for my sins and I hoped Sébastien watched with a smile. I would keep in touch with Jacques from now on. I would send him letters, skype with him, do anything to keep up with him. I would invite him to Gordes. Marthe and Victor wouldn't mind. Gerard and Marie would be proud of me.
Talking about them: "Are you in New York again?"
"Just got home", Marie told me. She was always quick to pick up the phone. "How are you, my little boy?", she asked carefully.
"Good. We've talked for hours. We had cried too", I silently told her. "I made peace with my mind. Jacques is not to blame. Neither am I, as hard as it is to believe."
"I'm proud of you, Michael. I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you, mum", I laid down with a tired sigh. "I can't believe I managed to pull this off."
"But it's good that you did. You can make peace with your inner turmoil."
"I know", I closed my eyes. "I'll be home soon. I booked an earlier flight since the meeting is over. I'll be home tomorrow evening the latest."
"We miss you already. Sleep tight for now. See you soon."
"See you soon. Love you too."
Jessica finally responded.
She left me on read. No matter how many times I sent her a message, she ignored me.
I threw the phone onto the ground and pressed my head into my hands.
♡
Sara's POV
I couldn't believe my eyes. Jess had sent me a screenshot of the conversation between Michael and her.
Between my Michael and her!
I pressed my hand against my mouth to muffle my sobbing.
Was he telling the truth? Did he really resist her?
Did he really still love me? He called me his girlfriend and was begging Jess to contact me.
He was bombarding her to text me.
Michael – can I really believe you?
Can I?
Can I?
♡
Michael's POV
'Michael', Sara's soft voice made my eyes flutter open. I jumped to my feet and there she was: standing a fair distance away from me, extending her hand.
'Michael, you shouldn't sleep on the floor. Come join me.'
Now I noticed she was wearing her pyjama and had her hair open and loose. My legs were shaking.
'Sara, mon amour, I-'
Had she always been this beautiful? Her tussled hair, makeup free face, the baggy clothes on her – she looked like an angel. My brown hair, brown eyed Bosnian angel.
Her voice was music in my ears, her female scent made me dizzy. I was overcome with proudness and love as she met my eyes. This woman here was my girlfriend. The woman with the crooked grin, big heart and dedicated mindset.
'I'm so proud of you, Michael', Sara said with shining eyes. 'I'm so proud of you.'
Sara's voice turned into a child's voice. I looked down.
Sébastien looked up to me with his big grin. His hair was tussled, and his eyes were bright. He was holding his favourite stone in his left hand. 'Thank you for moving on. I'm watching you from up there!' My little brother pointed up.
I followed his finger.
Once I looked down again, he was gone.
I was on my own again.
My eyes fluttered open. With a groan, I checked the time. 4:55 am. What a dream.
I covered my eyes with my arm. First Sara then Sébastien. They had been on my mind a lot lately. "Are you really watching Sébastien?", I whispered to the ceiling.
My phone lit up. I rolled over and took it.
At 5 am, Jessica still hadn't texted me more but 'Stop spamming me' and 'She's fine'. At least she responded. In my sleepy haziness, it took me a few moments to understand her messages.
My heart was lighter now. Sara was fine. She was alright. Thank god – at least she was somewhat alright. Now I had to make her go from 'fine' to 'happy'.
I rushed to the bathroom and got ready in less than twenty minutes. I packed my bags, cleaned the room, got ready and stopped to take a look in the mirror. My suit was too big on me. My beard was longer. There were shadows underneath my eyes. But I didn't care. I would go home to see her. I would go home to be with her. Nothing else mattered.
I checked out the moment I was done. The receptionist told me I could eat breakfast if I wanted to, but I declined that offer.
I just wanted to go back home to be closer to her.
I steered the car to the airport and parked it where my driver would pick it up later. I checked in and thanks to my status and plane seat I was done with the check in and security in mere ten minutes. Now I had to wait an hour until the gates opened.
I sighed. How could I kill this hour? I texted Gerard I was on my way already, texted Victor and Marthe I was at the airport, texted Jacques goodbye.
Then I strolled around and looked at the shops. I stopped at a makeup store and scanned it. Sara always looked good, especially her makeup. Did she love it? What stuff does she prefer? Would she like anything from here?
The saleswoman approached me with an amused smile. "What are your best sellers?", I asked her once we had greeted each other. The young stylish woman counted down a list, but I long stopped listening. "I want everything. My girlfriend has slightly medium skin, if you need that."
"What does she look like, sir?"
"Brown hair, big brown eyes, full lips-"
I followed her around as she showed me each product and let her put everything into the basked I was carrying. I didn't know one brand here. Laura Mercier, Nars, Urban decay, it cosmetics, too faced, Anastasia Beverly hills? I just caught a few sentences like 'this was a foundation' or 'this is eyeshadow' and 'this is a sixty-dollar primer, is that alright with you?' The total came out to over a thousand dollars and without baiting an eye, I swiped my credit card.
My bank immediately called me. "We have noticed unusual behaviour regarding your expenses. A 1259,99 $ purchase on makeup, to be exact."
"That was me Richard."
My bank consultant grew quiet for a moment. "Alright, then I won't bother you any further. Have a safe trip."
"Thank you." Of course he had tracked down where the purchase had been made. I loved that he never questioned my purchases. There had been a time when I had lived off 2 am taco bell purchases.
An announcement was made that my gate had opened, and I went there. After a short control of my passport, my ticket and my stuff, I was let in and led to my seat. My uncle had booked the ticket for me, last minute, and had chosen first class. I usually preferred business, not because I couldn't afford first class, but because I didn't like the way the stewardess acted towards me, nor did I like to talk to the others about who I was.
Business class let me work in peace, let me eat when I wanted and let me watch movies unbothered.
But I had to admit, it was a pretty cosy seat with some great champagne.
This would make the almost 7 h flight somewhat durable. I flew from CDG to JFK this time, and this was a direct flight with no in between stops from home to home.
I didn't bother checking my emails because nobody sent anything too important on a Saturday or Sunday, especially not at 7 am, so I listed through the movies until I found an old classic 'Forest Gump'. I reached for the headphones, when an annoyingly sharp voice met my ears.
"What? That's the Michael Beaumont?", the elderly woman shrieked, and I looked at her from the corners of my eyes. Red lipstick, grey eyeshadow, a bright red dress, pearl necklace and styled grey hair. She looked like any other rich white woman I had met so far, only the small dog was missing.
"My husband golfs with his father!", she said still as loud. Since I had long broken off contact with my father, about 16 years now, soon 17, I had no clue who they were. "He says Hector just won't stop talking about his sons! Especially his eldest!"
"I heard his company is in the top three in the states – he follows after his parents, isn't his mother right beneath him?", another female voice chimed in.
I put my headphones on. Why would father talk about us? We weren't part of his life anymore. He had another wife and those two had children on their own. They were 18 and 16, both attending school and from what Léon told me, they planned to visit University too. But I didn't care about them enough to ask for more information.
I cursed silently. Way to ruin my birthday month. It was the first of March today.
The movie started, and I sunk into my seat. The stewardess I ignored, adjusted my seat the way I wanted and let myself be sucked into the emotional ride that was ahead of me.
Until someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up annoyed to the woman from before.
"Michael Beaumont?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Sylvie Stellar. Sorry to bother you, but I just had to greet you." She extended her wrinkly hand. I scanned her before I took it. She looked old, but her face had no wrinkle on it. I knew her age immediately, since mother looked exactly the same. Women their status always smoothed out their wrinkles to make them appear younger. Mid-fifties was my best guess.
Now I knew her. Father had golfed with him since forever. I had even met David Stellar, who had been in the same branch as my father. They had been business partners and he occasionally wanted to collaborate with me.
"You remember my husband, David?"
"Of course I do, Mrs Stellar."
"Oh please, call me Sylvie", she winked, tracing my jacket.
I kindly but adamantly brushed her hand away. "How may I help you, Mrs Stellar?", I ignored her plea.
"You see, my husband has reached out many times to you", she said, not before getting rid of her frown. "I thought-"
"If you want to discuss any business-related manners, then please contact my secretary Melinda from Monday to Friday from 6 to 12 pm the latest. I have many people who are waiting for an answer ahead of you." I got out my business card and handed it to her. "I'm not open for business on weekends, especially when I'm on my own. Also, I have negotiations running with other clients." I wouldn't talk business without a lawyer, my right hand and my secretary. Not if it was the first time I worked with somebody.
"But I thought we could settle this in person. Take the chance while we can." While you can, rather.
"I'm sorry Mrs Stellar, but your husband's branch is not of interest to me. A collaboration wouldn't benefit the growth of my company or his. If he has something that might catch my interest, then please tell me secretary. Until then."
I turned away.
She stomped.
"I'm giving you an offer", she growled. "I am practically handing it to you."
"And I'm declining it. Now may I please enjoy my flight back home? I was on vacation and I want to continue being so until I land in New York."
The stewardess saw my frown and rushed to my seat. "Is this woman bothering you, Mr Beaumont?"
"Yes", I courtly said.
"Ma'am, may I please ask you to return to your seat? Mr Beaumont doesn't want to be bothered right now."
"You'll hear from me!", her voice was shaking with anger.
"Not me, but my secretary", I told her, turning up the volume so the background music swallowed her grunting.
I couldn't wait to step outside this plane.
Only 6 hours and 40 minutes separated me from Sara. I felt each passing second in my bone.
"Soon, my love", I whispered, not letting the screen out my sight.