Never Have We Ever, page 10
“If Heaven welcomed me but not you, I would tell St. Peter that he could keep the halo and let me descend into the netherworld with my beloved. A life in Hell with you is worth more than a life in Heaven without you.”
“I don’t yet know what our daughter will look like, but if she’s half as beautiful as you are, then the world will weep from such an excess of beauty.”
“Today I visited an ancient Cathedral that is said to be the home of the most pious monks and nuns. All I could think about was fucking you.”
“In the depths of my heart there is a seed. It was planted the day you agreed to marry me. For the past six years I have nourished it with your love and the hopes I have for the future. Since then, it has bloomed within my chest and threatens to burst if you nourish it any more. I will lay in my grave with a rose garden sprouting from my body.”
“When you came into my office and offered me such wonders, I had the sinking feeling that another baby would soon be born to us. How delighted I was to hear it was happening.”
“You have withdrawn from me since the birth of our precious son. I wonder if it is me, but everyone assures me that you are still recovering from such a trying ordeal. Every day I ask Lena what I can do to make you feel better and want me again. She suggests patience and an endless supply of favors.”
“I wish you were here in Madrid with me. The sunset reminds me of your face when you scream your love for me. It’s the raw anarchy of the sun’s rays that make me think of that wordless cry the moment before you enjoy your little death.”
“I have a surprise awaiting us in Monaco. I hope that Lena has not spoiled the surprise.”
Valeska was inundated with these snippets of a life she lived with André without realizing it. For years he had been sending her these love-filled letters that made him sound more like a lovesick fool than the hardworking businessman his wife assumed him to be. How could I have never known this about my own husband? How could Valeska’s French remain so pathetic that she relied on a professional translator ten years later to find out how much her husband really loved her?
No wonder André was so offended.
Valeska packed one suitcase and informed the interim nanny that the children were in her hands until further notice. As soon as travel arrangements to Monaco were arranged, Valeska hopped into the back of a taxi and took off.
Five hours later, she touched down in Monaco in a helicopter she grabbed across the water. Not the most cost efficient way to get to Monaco, but it was a last minute arrangement. It was more important to meet up with her husband than to save a few extra euros.
The only reason she knew what hotel he stayed in was because she hired the same private investigator her mother used. The man was based out of Monaco and had no issue tracking down André’s hotel by the end of the first day. Valeska likewise had no issue getting the suite number out of the front desk. They were still married, after all, and nobody saw any reason to keep a husband’s location away from his worried wife.
André was a mixture of shocked and relieved to find Valeska on the other side of his door. Valeska half-fretted that she would find another woman in her husband’s room, but it looked like he had been alone for a few days. Or at least that’s what his stubble and casual clothing suggested.
The man had not come here for business or pleasure. He had come here to retreat into himself and hope he was sobered up enough to face their impending divorce with at least some modicum of dignity.
“Leska.” He leaned against the doorway, keeping his wife out of his abode. “You’re a sight for these sore eyes. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Valeska reached into her bag and pulled out a small stack of curated letters. “I went to that man you suggested and had some of your letters translated. I… honestly had no idea.”
His pale face only grew whiter. Even looking his worst, André was one of the handsomest men Valeska had ever laid her eyes on. Is this really my husband? The father of my children? The man I’ve shared a bed with for the past eight years? A man she had wanted far longer than that?
She could still remember their first kiss. The first time he touched her. The first time they made love, and the first time he said he loved her.
To think… she had shaken off his admission because she thought it was his stereotypically French nature making him say that. She was his wife. Of course he would say that he loved her. It was the law.
“Do you love me, André?”
His stature relaxed. “If you could not feel my love in those letters, then there is no chance of you hearing it in my voice.”
“I know… I know.” Valeska held the papers to her chest. “Can I please come in? We need to talk.”
“I suppose I should entertain you since you came all this way. Would be uncouth of me to turn you away at such a crucial time.” He said that, yet took his time moving out of the way so his wife could enter with her one bag.
The suite wasn’t anything special. It looked more like (an upscale, of course) bachelor pad used more for efficiency than relaxing. Valeska doubted that her husband was trying to save money. More likely, he either spent most of his time in here sleeping and the rest of his day going out and taking care of business. His family had a satellite office here in Monaco. It wasn’t beyond comprehension that he would ride out his wife’s storm by hanging out in the only other Francophone office his family employed. Hell, tax wise, the suite could be a write off.
“Sorry about the mess.” André stacked some magazines on a table and kicked his dirty laundry into a corner. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I’m your wife. It’s hardly the worst I’ve seen.”
He scratched his head. “Are you? My wife, that is.”
Right in the heart, André. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I think we’ve had a big, massive miscommunication over these past few years.”
André sighed. “It’s my fault. I should have told you these things in ways you better understood. I thought I was being romantic while helping you with your French by writing those letters like that. I think I got too carried away. You couldn’t understand.”
“When my French did get better, I have to admit that your metaphors still went over my head. I don’t think I could have interpreted passages about the leaning tower of Pisa as anything but you talking about sightseeing.”
He still blushed. “I thought of it as like a game. Whatever I wrote, I wasn’t sure if you would understand it. So I could really tell you about my feelings and not be too embarrassed. Yet I didn’t think you would misunderstand so much, and I never thought to tell you these things when we were together. I was too busy talking about other things.”
“You really love me so much, André?”
“I didn’t know what love truly was until I first saw you, Leska. I told you on our wedding night that I wanted to treat things with you differently. I wanted to build up a relationship before making love for the first time. I wanted to make sure there was something to be felt besides physical pleasure. Ah, I’m such a fool…”
“I want to know what was really going on with Lena. Because those photos were damning, André.”
“Yes. I suppose so, but I was so shocked by your accusation that I couldn’t think of how to explain myself. Because everything I had to say spoiled the surprise.”
“You mean the one you mentioned in your letter?”
“Of course. Lena was the only other one who knew about it, because I consulted her on how best to go about it. Besides maybe your mother, she was the only one who knew you as well as I did, but I did not trust my instincts like I should have.”
“What was the surprise?”
André sat on the edge of the bed. “I was going to buy us a small apartment here in Monaco. Not just for me to use when I had to come here for business, but for us to use as a getaway from Paris. No kids or nannies allowed. It was going to be our present to ourselves for enjoying almost ten years of knowing one another. All I could think about was coming home to finding you here relaxing and ready for me to kiss you.”
“Like you practiced kissing on Lena?”
“That was not a kiss! I only ever gave her the kiss of greeting. Since meeting you, Leska, you are the only woman I feel anything sexual toward. I rarely think of my past lovers. They are nothing compared to you.”
“You’re still not explaining yourself well. Cut the dramatics and be straightforward.”
André sighed. “I admit that I overstepped my bounds with the nanny many times. But not like that. I mean I was not professional enough. I saw how friendly you were with her and decided that I should be too. She was my employee, though. I remember we decided that the payments would come from my side so you would feel freer to be her friend and she could be your confidant. It was important to me that you felt comfortable around the woman helping you with our children.”
“But?”
“But I lost track of that! I swear upon my soul, Valeska, I never put her in a position like the one you’re thinking. She has never been anything but loyal to you and our family. Yet I can see how you might have thought otherwise. Because I was too friendly with her and then tried to do a secret project… it looked like we were having an affair.”
“She’s not the only one I worried about,” Valeska confided. “There were many instances of you being intimate with coworkers and your professional contacts.”
“Intimate? You mean la bise? Because it is only me being polite. I never kiss another person like I kiss you.”
I dunno, those photos of you with that woman in Copenhagen are pretty damning. Yet it could’ve been the angle. The lighting. It could’ve been a friendly kiss to the cheek like this French idiot was famous for. Valeska was more than knowledgeable enough about French culture to know that exchanging those kisses was as common as waving hello or goodbye.
But it was a bit different when her husband did it.
“I never thought of myself as a paranoid person,” Valeska said, “until these past couple of years.”
“Perhaps it’s common with a woman in your position.”
“How do you mean?”
He shrugged. “You have been a stay at home wife with my children for several years. Things have happened.” André glanced at her midsection. It was neither judgment nor adoration in his eyes. “It leaves much time for the imagination to blossom and for me to send the wrong signals. That’s one reason I wanted to gift you a getaway apartment. I remember when we briefly lived here in Monaco. To me, it was a happy time. Our daughter was bright and young, and you were still your old self. Ever since our son was born…”
Valeska sucked in her breath.
“Ever since there were complications with Thomas, I feel like things have changed. I worried that you had depression postpartum. You wouldn’t let me touch you like you were my wife.”
“I thought I might have driven you away.”
“You didn’t. I spent the whole year worried about you. I wanted to be closer to you than ever.” André stood. “I wished that I had a magic wand to wave and fix your soul. I couldn’t stand the thought of you never looking so lively again. Yet I was a fool to think that the way I communicated with you still sufficed.”
Valeska chuckled. “Isn’t it funny? Our English isn’t good enough, after all. It’s my fault. I’m no good at French after all these years.”
“I should have been learning German.” André backed this with a nod. “Although I am also no good with languages. Only the language of love… which is not good enough.”
She came closer to him, careful to keep a little distance while also opening herself up to his affections. “I thought you spoke it well.”
“I was an idiot to think it was the only language we needed. I thought you could feel my love when we were together. Because I always felt it with you.”
Don’t cry. You still don’t know if he’s genuine…
“Leska, please.” He snatched her hand in his, the tightness of his grip shocking her to the core of her heart. “I cannot bear to be divorced from you. The day we married was one of the best of my life. To know that it was all a faraway memory and you were no longer by my side or waiting for me on the other side of the world… I would die. I… I…” He expressed himself in the only language he was truly fluent in.
Not in French, but in love.
The bubble encompassing their bodies could not be penetrated by any outside force. The strength of André’s kiss erected more than a barrier meant to protect him and his wife from any paranoia or desire to run from their marriage. It throbbed in Valeska’s veins and filled her heart with such pardoned joy that she completely lost herself in his embrace. For the briefest second, she was once again a bride on her wedding night – a woman realizing she really was in love with her husband.
There were times over the course of their marriage when Valeska still experienced that jolt of novelty with her husband. It wasn’t always when they did something for the first time, either. It happened when she caught a possessive glint in his eye or he made the right kind of sound in her ear. Sometimes a grunt was a grunt. Other times, however, a grunt was the end of the world.
This was renewed passion. A renewed sense of purpose in their marriage. Renewed desires for one another.
“Je’taime,” André whispered on her lips. “Ich liebe Dich.”
Valeska couldn’t help but smile. “Your German remains worse than my French.”
“I should change that.”
“After I kiss you again.”
Because she hadn’t felt the full brunt of his love, she supposed. Not like the past decade had meant nothing. Yet when André kissed his wife as if he truly had something to prove, Valeska accepted that their marriage really hadn’t been a lie. Not a single second.
“We go to bed.” Before his wife could protest, André lifted her up into his arms, eliciting a yelp of girlish excitement. “We make love. I have much to prove.”
Valeska clasped her hands around his neck. Her hair tumbled toward the floor, but her husband was so deft in carrying her that the tips of her hair never once scraped the carpet.
She wanted to believe him. Eight years ago, she realized she felt something for this man. Now, one wedding and two children later, she had to decide if her love for him was worth harboring – or if it only served to drive them apart.
She didn’t necessarily disbelieve him. Not about loving her, anyway. It was his fidelity that had come into question. She almost would have rather heard him say that he no longer loved her than feel the sting of his cheating.
He wanted to prove how devoted he was to her? He was welcomed to try. If nothing else, this could be their farewell tour.
The thing about André, however, was that he was always center stage. Until he decided to share the stage with the only person he deemed worthy.
Supposedly, that was Valeska.
“How could I betray someone like you?” Valeska had never seen her husband like this before. Not only was the stubble a new thing, but the primal way he got on top of her already and thrust his clothed hips against hers turned her into a happy puddle of mush. “You are the woman who stole my breath when you glanced at me so many years ago. I wanted you so badly that I decided to marry you before I even exchanged words with you.”
He held her hands above her head. His hips held her down, his cock already hard in his trousers. Valeska almost hated how readily her body responded to him. Fuck me. They were supposed to be hashing out whether or not to get divorced, not having sex! Too late. We’re doing it. Valeska was addicted to one man. Her husband.
“I have never doubted you for one second. Every time I look at you, I still think of you as my bride. You could have ten children and you would be my bride.”
Valeska accepted his heavy kiss with a groan. “I can’t have ten children.” She changed the tone before he could berate her for being hard on herself. “I’m not my sister.”
“I think you got all the best parts in your family, oui?”
She sighed. “I love it when you talk dirty in French.”
“Oui is not dirty.” His next kiss carried a smile. Valeska almost didn’t notice how hard he now thrusted through her skirt. “Dirty is saying something like je me branle souvent quand je pense à toi.”
Valeska only vaguely understood that. The context was in his tone, which sent an array of shivers through her body and opened her legs. He no longer had her skirt to contend with. “What does that mean?”
“It means on the long, lonely nights when we are apart, I comfort myself with thoughts of you.”
“It was dirtier than that!”
“What do you think I am doing when I think of you?”
“Vilain garçon!”
“Your accent still needs work.” André nipped her ear. “But I feel like one when I am with you.”
Valeska wanted to tell herself that this was a part of his game. Yet wasn’t it good that he felt comfortable talking to his wife like this? Many men stopped seeing their wives as the subjects of their fantasies long before they even had children. He never made me feel like I was anything less than sexy. At least when we were in bed. Any way Valeska brought herself down was completely in her head. That much she could admit.
“Ah, Leska…” He lifted her blouse and bit the peaked part of her bra. “I need you. Let me have you. Let me give you me.”
“Yes…” She rose to meet his next kiss, her nails clawing at his T-shirt. “I need you too.”
Even if they divorced, Valeska knew they would never be able to live without each other. They would be the sorriest tale in all of Europe. A sad couple who loved each other enough to keep hooking up until they were too tired to fuck, but were too toxic to stay married. No matter how many times I swear him off, I would keep coming back for more. Valeska knew this much about herself. André was the only man she wanted or needed for the rest of her life. He knew every inch of her body and constantly explored the parts of her mind they could mutually understand. Nothing was better than experiencing him inside of her. At least in that moment, she could rest assured that her husband truly thought of no one else but her.
