Page 96 of It Must Be Fate

The following week, I’m in my study when I hear Nera come home with the kids. The sound of her making them a snack is followed by that of her feet on the stairs as she comes to me.

Dropping my head back against my chair, I watch as my wife walks in. She’s wearing fashionable grey linen trousers with a built-in flap that falls just above mid-thigh and a tight black halter top. Her hair is piled high on her head, her eyes framed by mascara and her lips darkened with red lipstick. Small gold hoops complete the look.

“Hey, baby,” I call out.

She crosses the room and comes to my side of the desk. Resting her hips against the edge, she bends and presses a quick kiss to my lips, brushing the lipstick off my mouth with her thumb.

“Hi,” she says, then straightens and crosses her arms. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“Not specifically, no.”

“I ran into Stephen’s parents during pickup today.” She quirks a brow when my expression remains stoic. “Tell me why they informed me they’ve suddenly and unexpectedly decided to send him and his brother to boarding school in the United States?”

I put on my best surprised expression, although I’d have better luck trying to sell her sand in the desert than getting her to buy my innocence.

“Not sure. That being said, I commend them for their decision. I think it’s a wonderful idea. Justin, specifically, might learn a thing or two while he’s there.”

“Tristan.”

“In fact, he might have been heartily encouraged to learn a thing or two before ever setting foot back here.”

“You banished a thirteen-year-old because he called me a MILF?”

“I didn’t do a thing,” I say innocently. “His parents made a great decision based on empirical facts that may or may not have been presented to them by a concerned third party.”

She shakes her head but a smile tugs at her lips. “And what are you going to do when Cato goes to secondary school? Assuming we send him to RCA, you remember what it was like there. You know how teenage boys are. The hormones. What are you going to do then?”

“Plenty of open spots at that American boarding school. Justin will enjoy having friends with common interests, I’m sure.”

***

Fourteen years after graduation

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sixtine

Opening the door and pushing aside the flap that keeps the heat inside, I duct my head and walk into the glamping-style tent we have set up in our backyard.

“Here you go,ma chérie,” I say, handing Astra a steaming cup of hot cocoa. “Be careful, it’s very hot. Blow on it before taking a sip.”

Astra reaches for the mug with small, excited hands and blows at the steam as instructed, a large smile stretching across her face. “Merci, Maman.”

Like my parents did with me, Phoenix and I are raising Astra in a bicultural household. Even though she’s never lived in France, she’s completely fluent and embraces her Frenchness as much as I do, much to my own Mum’s delight.

It helps that her dad is fluent as well. I found out when I was in the hospital after an allergic reaction to peanut oil. I had witnessed Phoenix conversing easily back and forth with thenurse. It’s only later that he told me he spent years learning it as a way to stay close to me when he couldn’t keep me out of his head.

He’s always been that way; as secretive and quiet in his obsession with me as some of his friends are loud and boastful with their wives. Phoenix has given me more than I could ever dream of over the years, but the best thing by far is the ability to raise our daughter in the language of my heart. I didn’t realize the significance of that gift until she was here and the words of love that came most naturally to me were in French.

“Are you comfortable?” I ask her, fluffing the pillows behind her before motioning for her to lie back down.

“Yes. Are you?”

I snuggle in beside her and bring the thick down blanket up to cover us both.

“Very. Only one thing is missing…” I reach for my mug and bring it up to my lips, taking a hearty sip of the rich cocoa and humming appreciatively. “Parfait.”

She giggles happily and burrows into the crook of my arm as we both look up towards the heavens. Astra has been obsessed with stars since she was two when she was first gifted a coloring book of the galaxy. It might have been spurred by the origins of her name or the fact that her father and I talk to her about the stars, but her obsession has grown independently since.

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