A British love at first sight

Chapter 15

As soon as we step off the train and hit the road towards my in-laws' house, I let out a sigh of relief. Stopped at a traffic light in front of the pub where I embarrassingly stood out last time, Mackenzie and I see a couple waving at us with smiles. Mackenzie swears she doesn't know them, and since I don't know anyone, it can't be for me. Yet, they approach the car, insistent. I rolls down my window as Mackenzie bends and approaches, but they greet me. After the explanations, I quickly park and rush into the pub. An abyss of shame engulfs me. A photo of me on my knees on the table, with me being the only focus, naturally, plunging neckline and all, all within a heart-shaped frame. Beneath it, a small sign reads, "Camille, our lovely Frenchy." I stand there, utterly dumbfounded, until the bartender greets me, calling me by my name. My reputation is tarnished forever. I step back out; Mackenzie's been waiting in the car, crying with laughter as I recount the incident. I remain silent until I park in front of the house. I feel like the entire neighborhood is observing me, almost expecting to see a photo of me in my pajamas on a pole.

"Camille!" Margaret exclaims, embracing me as her daughter stands before me.

"Hello, Margaret. Thank you for having me for the holidays. I've come with Mackenzie, I hope that's not a problem?"

She bursts into laughter while hugging her daughter tightly, smothering her in maternal love. Following her lead, we bring our suitcases up. Mackenzie discovers her room has been decorated to mark the occasion, making it clear it's now my room as well. We lie down for a few seconds, laughing; her parents may have gone a bit overboard with the Eiffel Towers.

"Thanks, Mac. I know you'd rather be with Vincent and you're sacrificing for me. I'll make it up to you."

"But no. He knows you come first. He's fully aware and accepts it. Come on, let's go downstairs."

Margaret waits, smiling, and I thank her for the thoughtful gesture, just as I thank her for the photo at the pub, making her laugh. Apparently, I've become some sort of legend and a challenge. Climbing on my knees onto a table while completely drunk, then balancing and sitting back down without toppling the table. No one has succeeded so far.

I'm so embarrassed.

In my neighborhood, I'm a role model, no, a reference. Here, I'm a tipsy tightrope walker showing off her French assets!

I offer my help to Margaret, but she ushers me out of her kitchen like a nightclub bouncer. It's a bit harsh, so I play my French card, stepping outside and heading to the bakery on the corner to grab a baguette. I greet my fans on the street, some asking if we'll meet at the pub. I'm not really hungry; it's just for the principle. I come back into the house, nibbling on the end of my baguette before sitting next to Mackenzie, who can barely contain her laughter and ruins her makeup.

I'm stubborn, I won't deny it, and sometimes I'll even say I push that gift to the max, elevating it to an art form. Margaret comes over to see what's got her daughter in this state and looks at me with my baguette.

"Now, Camille, don't eat your bread like that. Ask if you want something."

"I'm not hungry, Margaret. I just had a taste. I'm going to make sandwiches for lunch to help out."

"But, we're not having sandwiches, Camille."

"I know, I will add some salad too."

Awesome!

She looks at my baguette and my smile before giving in. Honestly, she's wrong; I could keep this up for hours. Just ask my aunt Sylvie; she nearly dumped me in front of an orphanage once, and I only had a slice of bread in my hand.

I stay beside her in the kitchen, watching her move around in her domain. It's all I wanted, to watch her cook and learn a thing or two. The three of us eat in the kitchen, and I pepper her with questions, curious about what a traditional English Christmas menu looks like. Honestly, I think I'm going to gain more weight, but I'm going to enjoy every bite. As I've decided to tease her, I pull out some money and slide it onto the table. She stares at me, exhales sharply, and I feel like I'm facing the Minotaur.