for a very long moment, we continue to stare each other down.
“Wow, this is more awkward than I thought,” Gabrielle says from behind me.
Sadie looks to her in surprise with a touch of admiration at that, while Renaud lets out a relieved laugh. “Yes, I thought it would be immediate fisticuffs.” He says the last word in English.
“Fisty cuffs?” I repeat.
Sadie raises her fists. “You know, fighting with your fists. I thought Olivier would be the one to throw the first punch, that’s for sure. Followed by me. But I would do more of a kickintheballs.”
I laugh, the tension dissipating. I don’t think I’ve laughed in a long time, and maybe it’s inappropriate right now, but maybe I’ll always be inappropriate in some way. I can’t do a complete one-eighty, and I’m not sure I want to.
“Well,” I say, throwing my arms out to the sides, “have at me. I more than deserve it.”
Olivier narrows his eyes, seeming to think it over, and his jaw goes tense, his fisticuffs at his sides. I ruined this man’s life for a while, and though it seems he now has everything he’s ever wanted, I’m not off the hook. What I did can’t be forgotten or forgiven.
But then his features soften, and he cracks a dry smile. “From the looks of it, you’ve already been through enough.” He gestures to my face, which is still bruised from Gabrielle’s whacking.
“If it makes you feel better, she did it,” I say, gesturing to Gabrielle.
Her mouth drops as she stares up at me. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus.”
“Don’t worry,” Olivier says to her. “That just means you’re on our side.”
“And you’re kind of my hero,” Sadie says. Then she comes forward, brushing me to the side and holding her hand out for Gabrielle. “I’m Sadie, by the way. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” Gabrielle says, shaking her hand and then pulling her in to kiss her on both cheeks. I swear I see Sadie blush.
“Oh, you French, I’d forgotten all about the bisous,” Sadie says, giggling, hand at her cheek.
It’s cute. They’re cute. If Olivier and Sadie ever moved back to Paris, I think the two of them would be great friends.
While they’re occupied, Sadie showing off her engagement ring to Gabrielle, I glance at Renaud, who just shrugs and turns to look out the window, leaving Olivier and me facing each other.
“I don’t know if it matters,” I tell him, my heart pounding as the words come out, “but I’m really, really sorry for what I did to you. I know it doesn’t change anything. I know it sounds like I’m saying this for my own purposes, for my own exaltation, but . . . I just wanted you to know that you’ve weighed heavily on my mind ever since. I don’t ask for forgiveness; I just want you to know that I have a conscience, and it was not let off easy.”
He nods, his mouth in a firm line. “Duly noted,” he says.
Okay. Maybe it’s not the best I hoped for, but it’s good enough for now. Olivier is a good man. He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, I did my best.
He clears his throat. “I suppose I should tell you I’m sorry. That you lost your father.”
“You don’t have to. I’m not sorry.”
He studies me for a moment, as if to see whether I’m lying.
“He deserved it,” I added quietly. “I have no guilt, no qualms over what I did. And that’s not because I don’t have a heart. I very much have a heart. She’s standing right over there. And I did it for her. I did it for me. I did it for you, for Blaise, for Seraphine, I did it for your father and your mother. I did it for everyone, and it was the only thing left to do.” I pause, licking my lips. “Even if it wasn’t in self-defense, I probably would have done it anyway. Maybe that makes me just like him.”
Olivier shakes his head. “No. That doesn’t make you like him. That just makes you like yourself.”
I can live with that.
“Oh,” I hear Gabrielle say from behind me, and when I follow her gaze to the door, I see Blaise and Seraphine slowly walking into the room, as if not to disturb anyone.
“What a bunch of ghouls,” Seraphine says with a wry smile. “This looks more like a party than it does a funeral.”