Page 246 of Damaged Mogul
For the next week or so, I intend on vegging and allowing Gérard to fuss over me. Then, I’ll figure things out for baby and me.
“Je cours à la toilette,”I say.
Translation:I need to run to the bathroom.
“Allez-y. Je serai dans la cuisine.”
Translation:Go right ahead. I’ll be in the kitchen.
“D’accord.”
Translation:Okay.
I rush upstairs.
Every time I visit Nadine’s father’s spectacular rustic villa in Corsica, I’m enchanted. Not only by the house, but by the island and the people. Being able to walk to the beach and admire the sea like I did earlier, eased my worries long enough to allow me to get out of the jumbled mess that is my head.
I climb the stairs to the top floor and make my way to my appointed guest room, complete with private bathroom.
Once I’m done taking care of business and washing myhands, I assess my reflection in the mirror. I won’t be mistaken for a woman who’s on the verge of death, but I’m still unrecognizable.
Too many tears.
Too many fears.
Too many uncertainties.
I should wash up before dinner.
I get undressed and step into the shower.
I lather my body with the lavender scented products Gérard brought before washing my hair. The products are local and all natural. He suggested it might be good to avoid synthetic scents for the next few months. At this point, he has more experience with pregnancy than I do so for now, his word is gospel.
I dress in jeans, a cute black t-shirt with a slogan in gold, and black sandals. I don’t bother blow drying my hair. I braid it.
I assess myself one last time in the mirror, and I step out of the bedroom, but freeze at Gérard’s joyful exclamation from downstairs.
“Veuillez entrer,” he says.
Huh?
We have company?
Who is he inviting in?
“Mademoiselle Nadine… err… you in house, come,” Gérard says in broken English.
Nads texted me not long ago to find out what I was up to. She never mentioned someone was coming over.
A loud clap. “Une minute.I… I…mademoisellecome.”
Who would want to see me?
Other than Nads and her father, no one knows I’m in Corsica.
No way would she tell my puppet master where to find me.
And no way she would tell my former cheaterlover.
