17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Hazel

I have to assure Olivier I'm perfectly fine a few times—using bad food puns—before he actually believes me. It was sweet, and even a little sexy, the way he worked himself into a frenzy with worry for me. His genuine concern brought a flock of butterflies swarming to my belly. Except for the part when I was actually choking. That was terrifying, and the pecan pie expulsion was definitely not sexy at all .

We're now browsing a cute boutique de costumes to choose what we're wearing tonight. Olivier zooms straight to the back of the store, picks up a headband with devil's horns, plus another one with a witch's hat and a spider brooch, before booking it back to the cashiers.

"What are you doing?" I ask with a frown.

"This will do fine," he says, shaking the items in his hands for emphasis. "We don't need to go over the top. It's just my mom's party. Frankly, I usually don't even dress up. I just say I have a chef costume, and everyone laughs."

I cock my head to the side, steeling my expression. "Well, not this time, mister. You're not about to rob me of a Halloween shopping spree in France."

His arms drop to his sides. "Really? This hardly qualifies as shopping."

"It's clothes and accessories. It definitely qualifies."

He hesitates, but then his eyes crinkle with a smile. "Okay. I'm in."

We walk around the store, browsing our options, and I'm surprised to mainly see spooky costumes. Pumpkins, devils, witches, monsters, bats—the list goes on .

"These are only scary costumes," I say, glancing around the store. "I was hoping to go as a baguette or a slice of cheese."

He laughs hard, clutching his stomach. Once he recovers, he says, "It's Halloween. It's supposed to be scary."

"I know, but the costumes aren't always spooky. The last Halloween party I went to, I dressed up as Cher, and my sister was a cowgirl"

His forehead wrinkles. "That's Carnival, not Halloween."

"I guess you're right. Lately, Halloween in the US has just become a reason to dress up as sexy anything. At first it was, like, sexy bloody nurse, sexy cat, or hot witch. But now, people use any excuse to show cleavage and wear a short skirt."

With his eyes fixed on me, he swallows hard. "Oh, well . . ."

"But I like this better. This is what Halloween is all about," I say, picking up a set of fake vampire teeth from the shelf. "Looks like you guys nailed this American tradition."

Joelle and Phillippe's house looks like something right out of a spooky Halloween movie. One step out of the car with the help of my scythe—yes, I am the grim reaper tonight—and I can already tell that Joelle spared no expense. The front yard is scattered with graves, skulls, and skeletons. Large spiders are sitting on the lawn, and carved pumpkins are lit along the path up to the house.

"It looks amazing."

"You know my mom. Always over the top," Olivier says, walking around the car in his vampire costume. I never really understood that sexy vampire thing before, but I sure do now.

He slips his fake teeth in and grabs my hand as we walk to the front door—which bears a wreath made of bones and spiderwebs today. He doesn't bother to ring the bell and opens the door, waving me in before him.

"Hazel! Olivier, vous voilà !" Joelle gushes, opening her arms as she sees us. She's wearing a green-and-purple witch costume that makes me think of Winifred Sanderson in Hocus Pocus .

" Bonsoir. " She plants two kisses on my cheeks, then does the same to her son. " Tu t'es déguisé! Oh je suis trop contente ." Then, she turns to me. "First time he comes with costume. Thank you."

I glance at Olivier, who gives me a look that says, "I told you so." We follow Joelle around the house, and I can only marvel at the decorations. Ghosts and scary witches are suspended at every corner, and garlands of bats drape from the ceiling. Carved pumpkins of various sizes glow with flickering candles, and spooky ambiance music serves as the finishing touch to set the mood. Joelle moves through the room, introducing us to some of her friends and family. I have no idea what everyone's names are. They're talking so fast, and the names are hard to pronounce for an American like me. Everyone seems friendly, though.

"Hazel, you look great!" Agathe says, kissing me in greeting. This time, I don't even flinch. I'm getting used to it.

"Thank you. So do you."

She's a witch too, but she looks like a character straight from Harry Potter. Sure enough, Juliette and Camille both bounce up to their mother dressed as Hermione, waving their wands in the air in the most adorable way.

They kiss us both, then start talking at lightspeed to their uncle, showing him their winnings from trick or treating. The way he's so patient and kind with his nieces does weird things to my body, and I need to tear my eyes away. Thankfully, Matt joins us at the same moment, wearing a lifelike costume of the Joker that's downright terrifying.

We mingle for a while before having a chance to sample Joelle's amazing cuisine. As I suspected, she went all out. Everything looks as good as it tastes, but my favorites are the mini pumpkin pies, which are bursting with flavor. The crunched nuts sprinkled on top add an interesting texture, contrasting with the smooth filling. Though I'm also quite fond of the foie gras bats.

"Hazel," Joelle says, finding me again. Olivier just left for the bathroom. "I am so happy to see you again. You remember Eliane, my friend I introduced you to earlier?"

"I do." I smile at Eliane with a nod. " La nourriture est fantastic, Joelle," I say .

"Oh, it's nothing, dear. Merci ," Joelle says with a wave. "Hazel est very beautiful, n'est-ce pas? " she asks her friend. "Elle and Olivier will make very beautiful children."

Good thing I just swallowed my pie, or we'd be having a repeat of the lunch incident. I force a smile while the two women start chatting as if I'm not here. I don't understand everything, but I'm pretty sure they're already naming our children and discussing wedding locations. And the weird thing is, that doesn't make me want to run. No, it actually makes me wish I could understand French perfectly so I could revel in the fantasy they're creating for Olivier and me.

I might be the grim reaper tonight, but there's one thing becoming clearer and clearer by the minute. Olivier has reaped my heart and soul, but I've never felt more alive than when I'm with him. And that's what scares me to death.

Olivier

After a bathroom break, I'm headed back to the living room in search of Hazel when I come across my dad. True to himself, he's not wearing much of a costume. Only a pair of bat's ears.

" Salut, Papa ," I greet, kissing him on the cheeks. Yes, we do that between men too. But only the ones we're close with. And no, it's not weird. "?a va?"

"Oui, et toi? Comment se passe le travail?"

Here we go. We can't exchange more than three words without him bringing work to the table. No pun intended this time.

I wring my hands like a kid about to come clean to his parents. Well, in a way, I am. "It's fine," I tell him. "But I'm not sure it's a good fit for me after all."

His face reddens, and I can practically see his blood pressure rising. "Of course it's a good fit, Olivier. You're a Brun . Maybe if you didn't take vacation days so early in your contract, you'd fit right in. That's not how you start a career in a palace."

My blood freezes in my veins, but I can't let this go. I have to tell him. "That's the thing, though. I'm not sure I want to work in palaces anymore. I'm thinking of opening my own restaurant."

"Olivier!" he thunders. "I will not hear a word of it. The Brun family name is synonymous with prestige. My grandfather and I both worked exclusively in palaces our entire careers. There is nothing better for you than this."

"I know, but I'm not sure that's my path. Although I have the utmost respect for your work, I would like to create my own imprint on this world. Something that feels more ‘me.'"

"Olivier." His voice is calmer, though the fire is still roaring in his eyes. "You've trained all your life for excellence. Stepping down from a palace to open your own restaurant would be a mistake. Don't settle for anything less."

With a shallow sigh, I nod. " Oui, Papa. " I should have known. Discussing this with him is a lost cause. We'll never see eye to eye. Still, I have to do what feels right for me. And maybe one day, he'll come around. Maybe he'll eventually stop being so hard-headed, though if I'm being realistic, there's probably a bigger chance of Matt becoming fluent in English than my dad admitting he might have been wrong about something.

In the distance, I see Hazel gazing off, lost deep in her thoughts. I feel bad that I left her to fend for herself this entire time. Then, horror takes over when I see my mom and Eliane chatting her up. I groan. Mom always gets extra when she's with her close friend.

Right on cue, the first word coming out of my mom's mouth when I reach them is "marriage."

"Mom!" I scold, panic rising in my throat. "Stop. Tu vas la faire fuir. " Glimpsing Hazel's face, I'd say I'm right about that. She's two steps away from sprinting out of the house.

My mom's hand flies to her mouth. " Pardon, mon chéri. Juste one more thing. Hazel, can we prendre a picture of us as a memory?" she asks, taking her phone out.

"Oh, bienne sur ," Hazel says with a sweet grin.

Mom hands me the camera, and I snap a picture of them, my heart constricting in my chest as I realize it's probably the only one I'll ever have.

"You should get in here too," Hazel says, beckoning me to join them.

I ask Eliane to take the picture as I squeeze in between my two favorite women, a huge smile on my face.

" Et maintenant one with the two of you," Mom says, getting out of the shot, a hand over her heart.

Hazel and I pose like a couple of teenagers before prom when my brother shouts, "Kiss her, Oli. "

Looks like he's learned two more words in English. I wish he would keep his new education to himself. Well, okay. Maybe I'm just a tiny bit grateful.

I turn to her, and she smiles at me. Closing the distance, we press our lips together, holding the kiss long enough for the picture to be taken.

"Booooo," Matt yells. " Embrasse la correctement ," he says before whispering something to Agathe, who murmurs something back. He shouts again, "Kiss your girl like you mean it. Don't be shy."

Agathe needs to stop giving him English lessons, tout de suite . I can feel Hazel tense up next to me. The last thing I want is to kiss her against her will. Even if there's nothing else I'd rather do than feel her lips on mine.

I turn back to her, wearing a discreet—I hope—frown in an attempt to apologize.

Pressing her lips together, she gives me a little nod, and my mouth dries in anticipation. Yeah, this is going to be one weird French kiss if I don't have any saliva.

Breathe, Olivier.

Tucking her chin in my hand, I bring her closer to me. Her hands fall on my chest, and I wonder if she can feel my pounding heart. Who am I kidding? The entire room probably can. It's beating louder than the creepy ambiance music my mom put on.

Our lips connect, and I gently part hers with mine. The kiss completely and utterly consumes me. It hammers at the walls I've erected around my heart. Harder and harder, only stopping once it finally breaks through and reaches my heart. Leaving it exposed. Vulnerable.