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CHAPTER 14

 

She sat fourth row at the Grand Palais watching models show off the latest collection of haute couture. Naomi would have been happy sat on a seat full of thorns if only that meant that she was able to breathe in the same air as the collection.

“I can't believe we're here!"

Naomi just about heard what her friend said over the loud ethereal music being played. The moment was surreal for her too.

After the hell that she'd gone through the past three weeks, she finally felt that she'd entered heaven.

Things had certainly changed between her and Saint. Whether it was for good or bad, Naomi was still yet to find out.

Trying to remain in the moment and not in her memory bank she watched as a model strutted by with a rolling suitcase fitting in with the airport setting, wearing a multi-coloured tweed tunic jacket and skirt and a matching snapback cap.

This is all she ever wanted to be doing - making high art, making love with the material things of the world and not studying some stupid psychology degree diagnosing people's brains.

Each time Celine saw an outfit that she liked she would squeeze her arm tight and talk loudly to get her attention. It was a struggle between them to act all bourgeois and Parisian-like with the extra load of excitement bubbling inside them. Naomi wished Miriam could have been there with them experiencing this moment as she knew her loudmouthed friend would have had something to say with the irritated looks they were getting from the other spectators sitting near them. But it was not to be so as she had an exam and would only be able to come the following day.

“Fuck Naomi, look at that one!”

Naomi followed Celine’s pointed finger with her eyes to see the outfit that was making her have a limp arm again, it was an elegant white suit jacket but with thin lace embroidery running from the shoulder to the hem of the jacket and a pairing skirt.

“It’s gorgeous.”

Celine mumbled her agreement. “You need to thank your husband for me.”

“I’ll let him know,” Naomi said forcing to keep her voice light.

The rapid flashes of cameras only served to flash images in Naomi’s mind of IV drips going through an unconscious Saint, and with that in mind she got out her phone to send him a quick text message.

She couldn’t stop worrying about him.  If Amirah hadn't been there that night answering to the ambulance workers she didn't know how she would have coped. It also had been her sister-in-law who had made the doctor and nurses attending to Saint believe that she was indeed his wife and could stay with him outside of the visiting times.

It had been the first time that she’d admitted that fact in public but it had all seemed very trivial to her compared to knowing that her husband had suffered a hypoglycaemic shock due to him drinking too much. Her mind raced – was it because of her? Was it because of her that he drank so much?

And she couldn’t help but wonder how she could not have noticed, but it made sense too with the amount of time that they spent apart.

Despite the doctor’s advice to rest, Saint had only stayed at home for less than a day after being discharged from hospital before he left to go overseas for business. Because she didn’t want to start an argument she didn’t say anything, but Amirah had very much made herself clear to him that he wasn’t supposed to be working but he didn’t pay her no mind.

In those hours under the same roof they barely talked. They had slept on the same bed but purely for sleeping, so when the following morning came and he presented her tickets to the Chanel show she'd been beyond surprised.

She wanted to hug and kiss and make love to her husband to show her appreciation but all those things were totally out of the question. As soon as he’d left to go to the airport Naomi had called her friends for the first time in one month telling them to come to Paris for Fashion Week. All expenses paid for by her.

In the time between, she'd gotten herself acquainted with her sewing machine, the new love of her life. All she did was sketch, saw, sketch, saw. Early in the morning she’d go to the fabric store, buy more materials and then make her sketches a reality. To cope with her racing mind, she knitted in the evenings whilst watching shows on her laptop.

The sound of the roaring applause, pulled Naomi back to the present. The show was finished. Seeing the creative director take a bow to his standing ovation filled her with so much motivation.

That’s going to be me one day, she thought to herself, touching people with my art.

Naomi had access to the after-party but decided against it because she really wanted to check up on Saint, so when they got back in the taxi on the way home, she planned to call her husband since he still hadn’t replied to her text.

The doctor had changed his insulin dose and it was hard reassuring herself that Saint was okay especially when he was thousands of miles away but hearing his voice made her feel better.

Their conversations on the phone were back to how they used to be, to how she always wanted it to be before the heartbreak, before the confusion, before the lies. They still hadn’t talked about the deeper issues in the marriage, but hearing his voice always calmed her down.

Naomi was thankful that she would be going to an empty house. Amirah and her kids had returned to Belgium a few days after Saint left, much to his disappointment. As of yet, Naomi still did not know the reasons why she had been there. Either way, she was glad when she dropped them off at the airport. Even though the house was pretty big, seeing the twins and the infant triggered certain emotions that Naomi was not prepared to deal with. Also just the noise level, the house was constantly loud, and then there was also Amirah who seemed to be constantly on the phone.

“I’ve always thought Paris looks prettier at night,” commented Celine as the taxi drove past the twinkling river Seine.

“I agree.”

Celine had come late the previous night and though they'd talked late into the early hours of the morning, they’d both spent hours contemplating what to wear to the show. They'd danced all over the big empty house, playing music, and the sound waves throbbed through the loud surround speakers. She’d felt like a teenager again.

Even though she was nervous by what her friend’s response would be she knew Celine respect her choice if she so decided not to disclose the details of her marriage whereas Miriam would probably use forceps to pry it out of her mouth.

It would be when they got to the house that Naomi would completely divulge into how she got herself married off within two months of being in university.

 

Saint was amusingly watching his business partner and hotel magnate lose twenty grand in one sitting of roulette when he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. It was Naomi.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” the sound of his wife's soft raspy voice would always be nirvana to him.

“I just called to check up on you. I texted you earlier but I figured you were busy. Have you taken your medication?”

The guilt pierced his heart, as he stared at the unfinished glass of whisky on the round table next to him. “Yes.”

“Oh okay, good. Where are you now?”

“I’m at the casino but I'm heading over to some strip club later on to have a meeting.”

“A strip club to have a meeting?”

“Yes,” there was silence on the phone for a brief moment before he interjected again, “do you not want me to go?”

“Saint-Luc, I want you to go wherever you heart desires.”

The fact that she’d called him by his full name, made him know that she did not want him to go but he wanted her to say so but knew she wouldn't.

“Okay. Did you go to the show?”

“Yeah I did…err I’m going to have to go now cos I’m with my friend. I’ll call you later. Have fun.”

Saint hadn’t even said bye to her before she’d cut off the line. She was upset and he felt bad about it, but wished she was as honest as he was with her.

He was in Monaco for a few days with Youseff to discuss distribution of their wine to hotels in the vicinity but had made a quick stop to the casino to relax.

“Enfin l'idiot décidé d'arrêter,” Youseff whispered to Saint, as their unlucky business associate told them they were leaving.

(TRANSLATION: Finally the idiot decides to quit.)

Saint silently chuckled as he finished the remains of his drink and grabbed his coat.

All he wanted to do was get to his hotel room and fall into a blissful dreamless sleep. Lately his dreams made him feel like he was still awake and by the time he woke up he'd feel like he’s already done half a day’s work.

The jet lag was hitting him big time. He missed his wife. So much water under the bridge.

He’d travelled and worked so much in the last three weeks that him being put into hospital was a very distant memory. He was annoyed at himself for not being a responsible drinker, he always knew his limits.

The doctor had said that he needed to slow down on his drinking as he was taking more insulin than he needed and causing his low blood pressure. He drunk like a fish, but he was always in control. He knew he was okay without a drink in his hand.

Naomi on the other hand, had done a total 360. It was like how they were in the beginning. But it bothered him that she was doing it out of a guilty conscious. Saint knew that she loved him, but whether she was confident in her love for him, that was a total matter altogether.

They talked more, more intimately, more deeply but still there was something unspoken between them. What were they?

And that’s why he couldn’t bring himself to make love to her, without knowing once and for all. She didn't want to make her feel guilty or feel like he was exploiting her guilty conscious to make love to her on top of him paying her to do so. That’s not how he wanted to live anymore.

He needed to know – what were they? Because he didn't know where her head was at and there was a stripper right at that moment giving him the bedroom eyes, who knew where she wanted him – on top of her.

Saint held the redhead’s eye contact as like a panther she walked straight in his direction before bending down her head to whisper in his ears soft, seductive words in French, but when for a moment he closed his eyes, to calm himself of the building tension in his pants, he only saw Naomi's face.

He wanted Naomi through and through. He wanted all of her, not just some of her but she was really leaving him high and dry.

The stripper went back to the stage. But he knew that the show that she was about to put on would only be for him.

The meeting had gone smoothly and Saint was back in his hotel room. He scrunched his face as the bitter taste of the whisky washed around in his mouth before sinking into the sad, hollow depths of his belly.

He kept on drinking, more and more, he kept on drinking until the warm glow swam through his bloodstream giving him the illusion that there was a heart that wasn’t broken.

He needed to get more drunk. He needed to sleep. He needed sex. He needed love. He needed alcohol. Alcohol could satisfy those needs.

Reaching out for his phone, Saint went to one of the adult sites that his friend had referred him to. He typed in the address and pressed enter. Almost instantly the page appeared with all that was sexually immoral.

He clicked on the section for the fellatio, whilst readily grabbing his already throbbing genital dripping with warm precum. He closed his eyes in anticipation for the explosion. He needed this. Saint missed reaching these heights with his wife, but she had reduced him to this.

After a short while he reached his peak. It was horrible. The sinking feeling buried all the feelings of sexual high he'd experienced mere seconds ago.

Sighing he got up from his bed and went into the bathroom. After wiping his hands off, he took his insulin shot before entering the shower.

They couldn't keep doing this to themselves.

 

 






Chapter End Notes:

A.N: Yes, I know it’s been a pretty while since I’ve uploaded Beignet but from henceforth it’s going to be regular, Godwilling.


I’ve been working so hard on getting my blog ready and so many other things, but I’m so excited to finally have it ready to share with you all.


And in celebration of Female’s Day read my first monthly post called, “What does it mean to be an Independent Woman in the 21st century?”


Copy and paste the link to your address bar: theefectivetimes.blogspot.com.


And don’t forget to subscribe, share, retweet, comment and whatever else you can do to get the word out :-)


I also have a Book Club which I will be updating monthly and so if you have a book in mind that deserves to be included, let me know!


Have a good day and God Bless :- ).







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.