Page 158 of You + Me – Against the World

An elegant man in a three-piece suit places a delicate hand on Vadim’s back, inviting him to sit down next to him. Vadim shrugs him off and, still standing, turns around to scan the room. Two stormy gray eyes land on mine. They pierce right through me. I hold my breath, while my hand grips Clémentine’s even harder, crushing her fingers.

The lawyer starts taking out his files, occasionally leafing through the pages and jotting down a few notes with a huge, gold pen. He looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

As for me, I don’t know anything anymore. Why I did this. Why I’m here. Why Vadim is staring at me as if I betrayed him. Why there is so much anger, so much hatred simmering below the surface of that dark gaze.

I stand up, driven by some unknown force outside of me. I need the pain to stop. I need to leave, or I’m going to scream. I must not cry. He needs to understand that I did this for him, of my own free will. That I have no regrets. That I want to give him what he holds most dear, the greatest gift I’ll ever be able to give him: his freedom. And that, in exchange, I’m willing to give back what I cherish most in the world. Him. Vadim Arcadi. My lover, my great love, my best friend. My whole life.

Fat, warm tears roll down my cheeks. They have never tasted so bitter. A few feet away from me, Vadim parts his lips. I know he wants to roar, to throw everything away. I look at him and slide a finger over my lips to tell him to be quiet. Not to ruin everything. In response, his eyes beg me to stop crying. In this noisy, crowded room, there is only him and me. Standing, facing each other. Much too far away, yet still much too close.

I have to leave.

Silently, my lips form the three words I came here to say to him one last time. He runs his hands furiously through his curly hair. His handsome face quivers. His eyes grow brighter, glistening and gray. I drown in them again. I realize that he has given in. He has finally let go, and in doing so, he gives me back my freedom too.

His ultimate proof of love.

You + Me is carved into stone and wood somewhere here in California. But I will take it with me to Paris, engraved in my heart for the rest of my life.

56

It’s been over a month since I came back to France. The rest of the family joined me shortly thereafter—all of us ended up leaving LA for good. But the most beautiful city in the world has never seemed so dull, so ugly to me. It’s fitting though, because that’s pretty much how I would describe my life here.

Clémentine is due to arrive today, and the cab is going to drop her off here. Apparently, she doesn’t want to stay in the U.S. without me. I suspect she’s actually tired of listening to me crying over the phone. That she’s had enough of my endless questions, to which no one has the answers; the memories that I constantly revisit; my regrets; my dark thoughts; and above all, the strict order I gave her not to tell me anything about what’s happening over there. The D’Aragon whirlwind will soon descend on my room, and something tells me she’s going to want to make up for lost time—and shake me until I have no more tears left to cry.

“Lancaster, I’m here! Don’t even think about hiding!” Clem yells from the door.

She enters the apartment and drops her two huge suitcases at my mother’s feet.

“First rule if you want to stay alive: never call me by my last name again!” I say, trudging over to her.

“Second rule if you want to stay alive: you’ve got to eat!” She pinches my skinny arm and smiles sadly.

Then, she throws her own arms around my neck, almost knocking me over. I hug her back, but don’t go as far as admitting that I missed her zest for life and her energy.

“You’re strangling me! Isn’t the third rule of survival to make sure the other person can breathe at all times?”

“Okay, okay! Oh man, I’ve got so much to tell you.” With that, she links her arm through mine and drags me toward my bedroom as if this were her own home.

It is.

My hyperactive friend flops down on my bed, while I settle cross-legged onto the floor. My eyes immediately drift into the distance, as they do every time I experience the pain of remembering… him. In this room, in this bed, sneaking in and joining me in the middle of the night. Our romantic getaway to Paris…

Clémentine throws a pillow at my head in an attempt to wake me from my daydream. I clutch it, holding the fabric close and inhaling deeply, as if it might still be possible to detect a trace of Ciao Amore lingering there.

“In your dreams!” Arcadi would quip.

Everything. Absolutely everything leads me back to him.

“Alright, so should we start with the elephant in the room?” Clem begins with a sigh. “Maybe you’ll be able to unwind a little after that.”

“Okay…”

“Vadim has been released. Your dad’s lawyer friend really came through. He managed to prove that Keith set the whole thing up—the drug bust and all the rest. He even convinced Cheyenne to testify! Oh yeah, and they figured out who took those photos of the two of you! Keith had hired someone to follow you everywhere and take pictures—and they confessed. But Keith himself still denied it! He’s such a psychopath! How could I have ever dated him? Anyway, he got twenty years without parole.”

I stay silent, unable to get a single word out.

“That’s good news, right? It’s what you wanted!”

Clémentine waits for a reaction from me.