Page 194 of The Stranger
“He knows revenge isn’t just a pastime to me. It’s half my personality.”
I chuckle, and at the sound of my name I turn, just in time as something small and fast collides with my chest. The impact knocks a startled breath from me as wiry arms lock around my neck.
“Primrose, tu m’as tellement manqué!”
“Sylvie.” Astonished, I set her back a little. My heart, I’ve missed her so much too. The thought feels like a slap to the head. Like, how did I not realize? I miss them and their silly arguments that remind me so much of my own siblings.
“Yes, it is me!” she announces, beaming, pink-cheeked, her pale hair escaping its untidy braids.
“So it is.” My voice catches. “Look at you. What are you doing in London, sweets?”
“I live here now.”
“In London?” I reason her father has many houses… even if that sounded a bit biblical. He has heaps of property. But he never mentioned…
Her father. If Sylvie is here, M. LDH won’t be far behind. I don’t look up. I can’t. I can’t even look at my sister. The restaurant continues around us—cutlery chiming, glasses clinking, the soft hum of lunchtime conversation—but all I can hear is my own heart, frantic and hopeful and fucking terrified.
“This is my sister, Sylvie. Lavender, this is Sylvie.”
“Bonjour,” the little girl offers. “Zut!” she adds immediately. “I mean, hello. I am pleased to meet you.”
My sister’s lips twitch. “Hello.”
“If I am in London, I should speak only English,” she says, looking my way again. “I have missed you. You went away,” she only half accuses. “Papa said you would be in the house when we returned, but you were not.”
“I know.” I smooth the hair from her forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye properly.”
“Papa said it was his fault.”
“Well, sometimes,” I begin, ignoring the prickle in my eyes.
“Sometimes even fathers get scared.”
My heart gives an arrhythmic flutter as I look up and find his blue staring down at me. Fork in the toaster time as my mind just… empties. Everything goes “pouf!” at the sight of Luc standing behind his daughter. Every thought, every sensible notion, every reason I have for keeping him out of my life. Gone. My body doesn’t suffer likewise, amplifying instead. My heart swells and my tongue twists. My insides pulse and… well, you get the picture.
“Mon cœur.”
My sister sighs loudly, all eyes turning her way. “What can I say? I love a pet name,” she says with a shrug.
“Papa calls Primrose his little flower.”
What now? My head swings comically to Luc, mouth open in a kind of ‘oh-no-he-di-dent’. Tell me you did not tell your child what you call me during sexytimes.
“It’s a perfectly innocent name.” But there’s some guilt in that tone of his.
“Well, I think this baby would like an ice cream,” Lavender announces. “Would you like to come and help me choose one, Sylvie?” Her attention flicks to Luc. “Maybe you might like to have an ice cream too, if your dad says that’s okay?”
“Oui!” Sylvie looks to Luc, and he nods.
“I’m sure Sylvie would like that very much, thank you.” I pretend not to hear the relief in his tone.
Sylvie’s eyes go wide as my sister pulls herself up from her chair. “You are having a baby!”
“So they tell me.” Lavender smiles sweetly and holds out her hand, then ducks her head toward the chair.
Luc slides into it with a quiet, “Merci.”
As they walk away, I hear Sylvie ask if anyone else in the family has a flower name. “That’s going to keep them busy,” I murmur to no one in particular.
