Page 66 of Never To Suffer (The Hollywoodland #4)

PARIS

KATE NASH

Sylvie, Luca, and I closed the coffee shop that first night, and again the second night.

On the third, I watched them both play in a production at their college, and I cried like a damn baby when Sylvie performed her solo.

Marie sat next to me, holding my hand and crying with me.

We went for dinner and drinks after, laughing and talking about music and art.

It was the first time I broached the subject of her mother since I’d gotten there, not knowing how it would go over.

“Your mother, if you don’t mind me talking about her, would have been so proud to hear you tonight, Pixie.

Absolutely beautiful and haunting, you’re a natural in that chair, becoming one with the cello and moving the audience the way you did.

And you, Luca, Christ, man. How long have you been playing? ”

“I started playing violin at five. My mother insisted I play something, anything. She thought piano, maybe. But I liked Sherlock Holmes, and when he played. I loved the sound of the music, haunting yet peaceful. It made my heart leap with joy one moment, and weep the next.”

I watched the pair squeeze each other’s hands, taking the compliments in stride with only a little blushing. Sylvie circled back to what I’d said earlier, “Do you really think Mama would have been proud? Of me, of all of this?”

“More than proud, sweetheart. I can see the three of you now, playing together at the house with?—”

“Mama played? What did she play?”

My heart gets lodged in my throat as the smile slides off my face. I glare at Marie, but she avoids looking back, playing with her napkin and avoiding the question I’m about to ask her. The hell with that, someone will have to answer. If I have to find Sylvie’s grandfather and force it out of him.

“Sylvie, your mother played both the violin and the cello. She was practically a savant. She reached first chair violin before she left university, and her cello skills had invitations coming from orchestras all over Europe.” I let out a long, slow breath from my nose, closing my eyes and shaking my head.

The heat rising from my collar must show on my face because Marie squeezes my leg under the table.

“I’m sorry, Pixie. I don’t want to cause a rift, but…

fuck. Maurice should have given you those instruments.

I kept them, cleaned them, made sure they would be in perfect shape for you if you ever wanted to play.

He promised me he’d give them to you. I thought—I thought you were playing her cello tonight. I truly did.”

She’s silent for a while, a single tear falling that Luca quickly swipes away with his thumb. He whispers something to her, and she nods, lowering her head.

“Dr. Clay?—”

“Theo.”

“Yes. Theo. Sylvie’s grandfather tried to stop her from playing. Said it would be a disgrace, among other terrible things. He’s kept everything from her, things she knew her mother or you had left for her. She has only a single picture of the three of you and a man she doesn’t know.”

My heart screams as it shatters. I want to march to the village outside town, pitchforks and torches style, and drag Maurice out of his home and into the street. I trusted him. I turn to Marie again. This time, she has the courage to look at me and purse her lips, looking for pity.

“I tried, but you know how my father can be since losing élodie.”

I’m about to lose control when a soft hand settles on mine, giving a gentle tap the way her mother used to.

Looking at my daughter again gives me an idea that might go over better than murdering an old man in his own home, but I make myself a promise.

Tomorrow, I get everything we left for Sylvie, no matter what.

“Sylvie, I don’t have much. In fact, all I have left of that time is the memories and the pictures in the book I brought with me.

If you’d like, if it’s okay, I’d like to grab a couple bottles of wine, head out somewhere quiet with the three of you, and tell you about your mother.

And about the man in the picture? He’s Giovanni. ”

“Wait,” Marie holds up a hand and I nearly growl at her for it.

“I want you to do this, to tell them everything. I’m not trying to stop that.

But it’s late, and those memories will take us through sunrise.

Come to my house in the morning. I’ll make us all breakfast; we’ll have all day to talk.

After the memories, we’ll start planning on how to get your things from my Papa. Okay?”

We’re all reluctant, but we nod. We say our goodbyes and Luca says he and Sylvie will pick me up in the morning.

In the hotel, I can’t sleep. I’m an ocean of emotions, one wave of joy and pride, followed by another of rage and guilt.

At two in the morning, I try to call Xander, but there’s no answer, so I leave a message.

I toss and turn until sunrise, get ready, and I’m downstairs a full twenty minutes before Luca and Sylvie are supposed to be here.

I try Xander again, leaving another voicemail, but this time I’m less surprised.

It’s close to one in the morning there, which means he’s probably in bed with Sky and Dani, or playing video games.

So I grab a coffee and partake in the French tradition of people watching while I wait.

“…and that probably means Maurice hates you as much as me.” I explain to Luca as we all crowd around the coffee table with the picture book spread out.

It’s open to a photo of Gio holding Sylvie after she was born.

He’s nothing but smiles and joy. Looking at the picture, I’m reminded of the pride that welled inside both of us when we first saw our daughter.

“Sylvie, have you told him your middle name?”

“I…have a middle name?” She stares at me, stunned. “I only know my first.”

“Marie, by the end of this trip, I think I’m going to murder your father.

Sylvie, your full name at birth was Sylvie Fiorella Duponte-Clay.

It drove your grandfather insane because he’s a close-minded prick.

” Marie puts a hand on my arm and I wave her off.

“Look, what I’m trying to tell you, what I’ve been trying to tell you, our lives were so much more intertwined than you know. We loved him.”

“Like, what, an uncle or close friend?”

“No, sweetie. Like a husband. We, the three of us, shared our home, our lives, our love, and, well, everything else. You were our daughter, equally so in our eyes.” The gears turn in her head and she grabs the book, flipping back a few pages and pointing at the rings Gio and I wear.

“Yeah, we couldn’t get married, but we didn’t need a piece of paper to share our love.

They matched your mother’s ring, all three of our names on the inside.

Here.” I pull my ring out of my bag, dangling the chain out for her to catch it.

“You still have it?”

“I still wear it. Well, I did. I will again, but that's another story.”

She swallows hard, pulling out the chain that’s around her own neck revealing a ring that looks similar to her mothers.

Luca pulls the picture of baby Sylvie, her mother, Gio, and me out, and points to the ring.

“It took a lot to figure out, but with Marie’s help, I tried to recreate the ring your wife had when I…

well,” he lowers his head, hiding his smile.

“What?!” I shout and Sylvie jumps, eyes wide as she stares at me. For a second, she’s not sure if I’m livid or elated. I’m a little of both. “You don’t have the ring? You made a replica? Shit, you proposed to her, didn’t you?”

I’m grinning from ear to ear when I stand up, kissing them both.

Words are lost on me, and I wish Skylar were here to say something profound and poetic.

After the tears start to fall, I kiss Sylvie’s forehead and whisper, “I’m so happy for you both.

You have no idea how happy I am. No idea.

And I’ll get you that ring back, I will. ”

My phone buzzes and I reach for it on instinct. Sylvie must catch something in my face or my body language, because she asks if I’m okay. I’m not. I’m worried about Xander and every time my phone goes off, I’m grabbing it in the hopes it’s him.

“Sylvie, I have a favor to ask. I’m going to Maurice’s tonight, and we’ll get everything back.

You can keep as much of it as you want. All of it except one thing.

I have no right to ask since you lost him, too.

Maurice scrubbed so much from your memory, even though Gio loved you as deeply as your mother and I did.

I want Gio’s ring back. I want to give it to… to the man I’ve… I’ve…”

She doesn’t let me finish, standing so fast she nearly knocks her chair over.

Her arms come around me, followed by a soft giggle.

“On one condition,” she says, holding my face and giving me the same serious look that her mother used to when she wanted me to know she wasn’t kidding. “I want to meet him.”

“We can arrange that, but there’s more than just one.”

“Papa!” She snickers.

“Xander, Skylar, and Dani.”

“All boys you love?”

“Xander is, yeah. Skylar is non-binary, so we call them the person we love. Dani is a woman.” I pull my phone out again, showing her pictures where they at least have enough clothes on to be decent.

It’s tricky sometimes. I find one of Xander and I, from the night he got on the plane for Tokyo.

We’d barely known each other a day and already I knew he changed me. Changing my whole life. “That’s him.”

“So, you love him more than the others?”

“Not more, no. It’s not a competition. I love them all in their own ways, but he found me first. He’s the reason I let myself fall in love again.”