His To Shatter (17 page)

Still, I couldn’t convince myself to get back
out of bed. I wanted to lose myself in Tolstoy’s story, to try and
remind myself that suffering and disillusionment were not my cross
to bear alone. Girard hadn’t created the sensation of heartache,
though it certainly felt like he had that day. It was hard to
imagine anyone being so torn about a man as I was.

My thoughts swirled uncontrollably, and I was
confused to find that the pages of
War and Peace
were
blurring before my eyes. Only when I felt a hot tear roll down my
cheek did I realize that I was crying. I tossed the book onto the
floor and rolled onto my back, letting all the conflicting emotions
battling within me come to a head. It was useless trying to
distract myself—my mind was full of Girard.

I cast back through the strange, wonderful
coincidence of our coming to know each other again. When the man
who’d saved my life on the New York City subway came to my aid
again in Paris, it had seemed like fate was intervening to bring us
together. And when that man turned out to be a caring, intelligent,
brave man; instead of the towering, untouchable god I had imagined,
how could I have kept myself from falling for him? Girard was
everything that I could ever want in a man, and he had so much to
teach me. So much to offer.

My breath quickened when I thought of the
lesson he had given me the night before. He’d taken my body in his
arms and opened me to him, showed me a whole new realm of pleasure
and ecstasy that I never knew existed. The way I had been able to
submit to him, to trust myself in his control, was more thrilling
than I could ever have imagined. And he had wanted me, too. He’d
wanted me just as I was, without any caveat, without any
qualifications. It had been the most incredible night of my
life.

But then the morning came. For a brief,
shining moment I let myself believe that I was home. That Girard
and I would continue life together as an inseparable pair, bound by
our affection and our need for one another. I really thought that I
could stay in that beautiful town house with him, drinking coffee
and reading the paper, playing the kept woman, the house wife. We
would cook fantastic meals and make love on every surface of the
house and have the most beautiful children. We’d live out our lives
together in joined bliss, savoring every ounce of delight we had to
give each other.

That’s where my thoughts had escaped to that
morning, just hours before. Then the whole fantasy had come
crashing down around my ears. Girard’s atrocious assistant Monica
had crashed into my delicate imagined bliss, shattering my hopes by
simply walking into the room. She arrived bright and early, used
her own key to Girard’s apartment, and reminded him of an important
meeting that day.

The look she gave me had left nothing to be
interpreted—she thought that I was scum. And worse than that, it
didn’t seem to be the first time she had come upon Girard with a
hot young thing perched in his kitchen. Monica had dismissed me as
just another one of Girard’s conquests, of which there were
apparently many.

And Girard, for his part, hadn’t helped one
bit. The instant that something work-related came up, he abandoned
me to my own devices. He had gone from planning a day with me to
seeing me out the door in no time flat. It didn’t bother me that he
had work commitments, of course. He was an incredibly successful
businessman and a self-made millionaire. What bothered me was the
casual way he had cast me aside. His prompt dismissal made his
priorities perfectly clear. I let myself get lost in the fantasy of
us sharing a life together. I believed for a few glorious days that
we were destined to be together, but who was I kidding?

How could we ever possibly stay together,
Girard and I? It was beyond foolish to even imagine it. He was one
of the most successful and innovative men in France, quite possibly
the world. What would he ever want with an average American girl
like me? I came from worse than nothing, I was more than ten years
his junior, and I had nothing to offer him in terms of social
advancement. How could I have let myself think that he wanted me as
anything more than a casual fuck?

And who was I kidding, thinking that I could
be happy giving up on my dreams and ambitions for the sake of any
man? I had been working toward my professional goals my entire
life, and I was damn good at what I did. Was I seriously going to
consider giving all that up to play house with some guy I’d met
only a couple of times? My dreams were too important to cast aside
for a sharp jaw line and a fat wallet.

But if Girard and I were never going to be
together, and if that was best for both of us, then why couldn’t I
stop weeping?

A sudden shriek rang out from the front door
buzzer across the room. I sat up sharply, heart pounding. Had
Girard come to apologize? Or even explain? I padded over the buzzer
and let my visitor in. Footsteps pattered up the stairs and my
heart sunk. There were four feet approaching instead of two. But at
least those four feet were attached to people who might be able to
help me through my misery. I opened my apartment door to find
Ashlee and Dara, as I knew that I would. For a second, their faces
were masks of excitement and mischief. But one look at my smeared
eye makeup and rumpled clothing and their expressions crumbled into
outrage and concern.

“Maddie, what happened?” Ashlee said, flying
to me.

“What did he do?” Dara demanded, closing the
door behind us.

I let out a bitter laugh. “He showed me the
best day I’ve ever had,” I said.

Ashlee and Dara exchanged confused looks and
sat me down on the bed. They stood before me, my trusted advisors,
my best friends. Even in this moment of pain, I was happy to see
them. They were far more schooled in romance than I was. Dara was
pretty accustomed to one night affairs, and I’d never seen Ashlee
let a guy get to her the way Girard had gotten to me.

“OK, you’re going to have to walk us through
this,” Dara said. “Start from the beginning.”

I sighed, already weary from replaying the
whole thing in my head. “We had the most amazing day together, you
guys. He took me all over Paris, and not the touristy parts, you
know? It’s like he could tell exactly what I wanted, the places I
would go crazy for. There was this little book shop...and he didn’t
even think I was crazy when I took a good whiff of
War and
Peace
—”

“You told him about your old book smell
addiction?” Ashlee said, ribbing me gently.

“He seemed to think it was cute,” I said. “We
picnicked by the Eiffel Tower, he knew all the right things to buy.
I tried caviar, for Christ’s sake. It was a big day.”

“And then?” Dara prompted.

“And then...we went back to his place,” I
said slowly.

“And what did you do at his place?” Ashlee
asked.

I blushed furiously, unsure of how I could
possibly describe what had transpired between me and Girard. While
Ashlee and Dara were very open about their sex lives, I never
talked to them about what went on in my bedroom. Usually, that was
because the only thing going on in my bedroom was a lot of studying
and a little moping. We didn’t really have a precedent in our
friendship for talking about my sex life. But it was worth a try,
if it might make me feel better. I swallowed my lingering shame at
having been discarded as best I could, and began.

“Well,” I said, “We made love. I can’t say
that I wasn’t expecting it, or that I hadn’t thought about it.
Really, I have been thinking about it ever since he found me at the
club. Maybe even when he saved me on the subway. He does something
to me, to my body, that no man ever has. And when we were alone
together in his house...it was like nothing could keep us apart.
But it didn’t feel wrong, or dirty, like it always has in the past.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world. He was so
present. I just gave myself over to him, completely. And he took
care of me. He was forceful, very forceful...but even when he was,
I knew that he would never really hurt me. I knew that he would
listen, that we would decide together what happened. And he
actually cared about what I was feeling. He...tended to me. My
wants. My needs. It was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened
to me.”

I looked up and saw that Ashlee and Dara were
staring at me, slack-jawed. “What?” I said.

“That...is fucking hot,” Ashlee blurted. Dara
elbowed her in the ribs, but I felt a half-smile creep onto my
face.

“It was hot,” I allowed, “It was
unbelievable.”

“How is it that you have better sex right off
the bat than either of us?” Dara asked quizzically, “We’ve been at
it for years!”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “But
if it makes you feel any better, it probably won’t be happening
again.”

“Why not?” Ashlee said. “What happened this
morning?”

“The rest of the world,” I said bitterly.

“But what
specifically
,” Dara
insisted.

“Monica, for a start,” I said.

My friends cringed. “That awful woman from
the club?” Ashlee hissed.

“The very same,” I said.

“She was a royal bitch after you left,” Dara
said, “She told me that I needed to wear less eye makeup and that
my sequins were tacky.”

“Well, she was right about that,” Ashlee
said, “But she didn’t need to say it out loud.”

Dara scowled at Ashlee and continued, “What
happened with her?”

“She showed up at Girard’s house, with a
freakin’ key of her own, and pulled him away for some meeting,” I
said, “He dropped everything. Me included. It’s pretty clear that
he has priorities other than romancing a little girl.”

“Well,” Ashlee said slowly, “That totally
sucks, don’t get me wrong. But maybe you’re reading too much into
it.”

“What?” I said.

“I mean...if he had a meeting, he had a
meeting,” Ashlee went on, “And it makes sense that his assistant
would have a key for errands or whatever. I don’t think you should
write him off so quickly.”

“But don’t you see,” I insisted, “He’s always
going to put his job first. I could tell from the way he switched
gears on me. And I have this horrible feeling that something has
gone on between him and Monica. He’s incredible, but I just don’t
see how our lives could possibly fit together.”

“You don’t have to figure out the rest of
your lives today,” Dara said, sitting next to me on the bed. “Maybe
you’re right. Maybe you’re not meant to be together forever, but
you’re crazy about this guy. We can see it clear as day. You’ve
never felt this way about anyone, you said so yourself. I don’t
think you should ice this guy out just because things aren’t as
perfect as you thought they would be. Things between any two people
will never be perfect, you know? But if you’re worth it to each
other, you’ll figure out a way. And if you both decide to leave it
be, at least you’ll have decided together. Don’t write this whole
thing off from the start, Maddie. You’ll always wonder what you
could have had with him, if you do. At least see it through.”

“Wow,” Ashlee said, “If you’ve got all that
romantic advice tucked away in that pretty little head, how come
you can’t keep a man around for more than a night?”

“I haven’t met anyone worth keeping around
yet,” Dara sniffed, “But Madison has. Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I had to admit that much,
at least. Girard had hurt my feelings that morning, but I couldn’t
just turn my back on him. I had to at least know for sure if there
was any way we could make things work between us. As unlikely a
couple as we were, and whatever might happen down the line, I had
to make sure that I wasn’t shying away from love.

I had spent my entire life up to that point
keeping men from knowing me. My father had been a disgusting drunk,
who exploited every insecurity that I had in order to keep me down.
It wasn’t his physical abuse that had hurt my mother and I the
most, in the end. It was the way that he had made us doubt
ourselves, made us think that we needed him when really we were
both far better off without him in our lives. My mother had never
realized that truth, but I had. I’d left home as soon as I could
and cut my father out completely. I didn’t need his money, or his
approval, or his love. I learned to live without all of that when I
was a child.

The idea of needing a man, of being in a
man’s control, was terrifying to me. And yet, here I was, wanting
nothing more than to submit to Girard. Suddenly, I understood. I
wanted to be Girard’s because I knew, deep down, that he cared
about me. I could trust him with my whole being. And that was too
special a bond to cast aside over a rough morning.

“OK,” I said, “You’re right. But what am I
supposed to do?”

“Go see him,” Ashlee said.

“What if he’s busy?” I asked, “What if he was
expecting me to go back to my own life and leave him alone after we
slept together?”

Before Ashlee or Dara could speak, a low
vibrating sound came from my purse. My phone. I flew to it and felt
my heart do a somersault as I spotted Girard’s number on the caller
ID. For a long moment, I started dumbly at the device.

“Maddie,” Dara said, “Answer the damn
phone.”

I fumbled to take the call and struggled to
keep my breathing steady. “Hello,” I said, hoping that my voice
wouldn’t begin to tremble.

“Madison,” Girard said from across the
line.

“How’s it going?” I sputtered, instantly
cursing myself for my lack of eloquence.

“Can you come back to my house?” Girard said
directly.

“Um...Yeah. Yeah, of course. I can do
that.”

“Good. I’ll send a driver. See you soon.”

And with that, the line went dead. I stared
at the phone blankly. Dara and Ashlee looked at me intently,
waiting to hear what Girard had said.