Rêveries

Chapter 50.

Mama knows best, I don't know who said it, but I'm pretty sure they knew what they were talking about. Not my mom though, she doesn't see me enough to know best, but Pascale definitely fits under there.

The week before Charles had to fly to Canada went by so much quicker than I wanted to. Every morning we went running or hiking together and it always ended with us making out against some wall or a tree where no one could see us, until I realized just how unclassy it is and I forced him off to go home. When we were home I had no issue changing quickly in front of him. It still made me a bit anxious but at least I could do it.

He drove me to my practices and picked me up when they were done. He said he'd get so bored when I wasn't home so he had nothing else to do than to wait to pick me up anyway. He'd drop me off, go to the gym and drag it out until it was time to pick me up. Then we'd go home and have dinner together before Charles and Arthur demanded to watch Gilmore Girls.

It was painful saying goodbye to him. I didn't come with them to the airport, because I didn't want to say goodbye to him without being able to kiss him and hug him goodbye before watching him walk away. So before it was time for Lorenzo to drive him to the airport, I hugged him as long as I could and I kissed him as many times as I could, then Lorenzo basically had to drag him away from me while muttering something about not realizing how bad it was. I think 'bad' is a horrible way of putting it, but I just frowned as they closed the door.

The week went on, I went to practice and I went on my morning runs without Charles. I didn't want to be the first one to call, because I didn't know if he'd be busy or if he'd think I was annoying if I kept calling him when I'd be seeing him in a week. And when he didn't call either, I just assumed I was right about him not feeling it's necessary. Then again, maybe he forgets about the time difference. Either way, I struggled to sleep that first night.

The day I realized that 'mama knows best' was Wednesday, when I walked into my room and found my black skirt, my black lace top and my fucking bra, freshly washed, dried and folded on my bed. I hadn't even noticed that I left them in Charles' room, but he spent every day there, so why couldn't he have given them back? Or I don't know, maybe have hid them?! I decided to not mention it unless she brought it up, because maybe he just put them in the laundry room and pretended like I had, and I didn't want to out myself. So I put them away and pretended like it never happened.

The next day I went downstairs in the morning to get my smoothie out, as Pascale was pouring coffee into her thermos. She glanced over at me and when I saw a smirk on her lips I knew it was over.

"As-tu parlé à Charles depuis qu'il est parti?" Have you spoken to Charles since he left? She asked, casually screwing the lid onto the thermos, then she turned fully to me.

"Non," I said shortly, shaking my head. I think she waited for me to say something else, but I didn't know what to say to make her less suspicious. I was about to just walk out of the kitchen when I heard her voice behind me again.

"Je lui ai parlé hier soir, je pense que tu lui manques," I spoke to him last night, I think he misses you. It made me stop and turn back to her and I think I looked a bit horrified about it.

"Je ne pense pas, il n'est parti que depuis deux jours," I don't think so, he's only been gone for two days. I made an awkward attempt of a laugh with a stupid shrug of my shoulder.

"Il ne te manque pas?" Don't you miss him? She asked, she still had a smile on her face and she tilted her head slightly to the side. I tried not to have a reaction and I just shrugged again at the loss of other things to say. I can't tell her that I don't miss his son, because I very much do, but I don't want to tell her that I do because I'd walk straight into the conversation I don't feel like having. "C'est bon, chérie, je sais qu'il a passé quelques nuits dans ta chambre," It's okay, honey, I know he spent a few nights in your room.
   
I choked on my breath and just glared at her. Was this a joke? He had spent one night in my room the night before qualifying, and then he had sneaked in late at night the night before he left. I thought we had been quiet when we talked and laughed both those times. She had gone to bed before he came into my room and gone to work or simply not woken up by the time he got out of my room. I didn't know what to say, and she must've seen the confusion on my face.