Page 14 of Belle Amour

Mirabelle shrugged. “I attract them, apparently.” She was staring down at her water sadly, and he felt his heart clenching at the look on her face. Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to talk to her until she sobered up, he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple.

“Look, I know you're still upset with me, but come on, drink your water, and we'll go lie down; I’ll rub your back for you, and when you've gotten some sleep and sobered up a bit, we'll talk about everything, okay?”

“Okay.” She leaned into him and put her head on his chest. “I was on my way to your place and decided to go to the bar to get a drink first; then I had another one and another one...” She groaned softly, and Bastian tightened his arms around her, knowing how much she disliked being sick and hungover after a night of drinking. “But for the record, I'm only letting you lie with me 'cause I'm sadder than I am angry with you right now.”

Bastian smiled and kissed the top of her head. “That's fair.”

Chapter Eleven: Grovelling

Bastian brought Mirabelle to the bathroom so she could use the toilet, brush her teeth and wash her face. While she was doing that, he went to the kitchen, grabbed several bottles of water and some crackers, just in case, and brought them back to her bedroom. He was digging in a drawer, looking for the pair of jogging pants he knew he’d left behind the last time he’d slept over, when he heard her come out of the bathroom a few minutes later. “Bast? Can you help me?”

“What’s wrong?” He found his pants and turned around, throwing them on the dresser as he undid the buttons on the cuffs of his dress shirt. She was standing in the doorway looking extremely flustered, and he took a step toward her, already having an idea of what she needed.

She huffed out a long sigh and gestured at her blouse. “The buttons.” She grumbled a little resentfully, making Bastian chuckle softly. For whatever reason, alcohol made her utterly incapable of figuring out buttons, and the shirt she was wearing had loops instead of buttonholes.

“Of course, Bunny.” He waited for her to approach him and helped her with the buttons. He’d seen Mirabelle in various states of undress too many times to count in thirty years, and it never got old for him. She hated to work out but swam three or four times a week and surfed whenever she got a chance and was in what Bastian called “soft fit” shape, meaning she was fit and inshape but had a slight belly and no defined muscles. He thought she was absolutely gorgeous and often had to mentally start going over some of his worst divorce cases to keep himself from getting obviously hard, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. While she stripped off the rest of her clothes, he pulled out her favourite tank top and pyjama pants and passed them to her, giving her some privacy to get dressed by going to the bathroom to go through his nighttime routine and change into jogging pants.

Mirabelle was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him when he came out. Knowing what she wanted, he approached and pulled her hair loose from the fishtail braid, rubbing his fingers over her scalp to relieve the tightness he knew having her hair up all day had caused her. She leaned her forehead against his chest as he massaged her scalp, letting out a contented sigh. After a few minutes, he encouraged her to drink a bottle of water, then pulled back the blankets for her to get in bed, climbing in beside her. She rolled onto her stomach and went to sleep quickly while he rubbed her back.

He lay awake for a long time after Mirabelle went to sleep. It was still relatively early for him to go to sleep, just past eight o’clock, but he stayed in bed with her both to keep an eye on her and just to be close after the week apart. After she walked in on Eddie with Casey and she moved in with him, they began sharing a bed again, something they hadn’t done with each other since university. It was mostly platonic – Bastian didn’t want to push her for something she wasn’t ready for, but he had thoroughly enjoyed holding her all night again.

Things he had chosen to ignore while she was married began pushing their way past the block he’d put up in his brain. Like how quick she was to laugh and how much he liked it when her laughter was because of him, how she always put otherpeople first and how fast she was to stand up for someone or give them credit when they did something well, no matter how small or insignificant. He loved that she refused to let anyone, including him, walk over her and stood up for what she believed in. Bastian was not surprised she resigned and took the entire support staff with her; he was actually pretty sure she was the one who convinced them it would work out and made sure they got their new jobs so they wouldn't have to go back to Henderson. He was surprised it took her so long and knew it was loyalty to him that kept her there.

When she finally left Eddie, which Bastian knew would happen at some point, he allowed the feelings he always had for her but had buried deep inside him to grow and began noticing things he loved about her again. How soft and silky her hair was and how he constantly wanted to run his fingers through it. The way her smile quirked up more on the right than the left, so it looked like a smirk, how perfectly she fit into his arms, the top of her head just coming in under his chin, how she smelt like a tropical beach and the ocean and how beautiful her eyes were.

He knew he would have to explain himself and his actions over the last three months, and he was working on putting his thoughts in order so he could explain things when a low moan from Mirabelle pulled him out of his head. He glanced at the clock and saw it was just after three in the morning, and he looked over to see her watching him, a distressed look on her face.

“Bast?” she whispered.

“Yeah, Bunny?” he rolled on his side and reached out to rub her back again, taking in her slightly green complexion.

“I don't feel so good.”She whimpered before pressing her lips together tightly and swallowing.

“I'm not surprised.” He got out of bed and pulled the blankets off her. “You had at least three Russian Sunsets.” He gently helped her up, grabbed the remaining bottles of water he had put on the bedside table, and guided her to the bathroom. She sank down next to the toilet with a low moan and laid her head on the seat.

“I had more than three,” she admitted reluctantly. “The other bartender had me settle with him before Myles got in. I had at least six or seven.” She urged, and he sat down behind her, pulling her hair back.

“Haven't done this since university.” He chuckled and rubbed her back as she urged again and then vomited. She was usually cautious about how much alcohol she drank for this very reason.

“No laughing. I'm still mad at you.” She managed to get out before throwing up again. “Fuck, I hate throwing up.” She groaned and vomited again. “This is why I stopped drinking.”

“If you'd drink something that wasn't full of sugar, you wouldn't get so sick.” Luckily for Bastian, someone throwing up didn’t bother him. He’d cleaned up after his mother’s nights out so often growing up that he was immune to it. He just kept rubbing her back and holding her hair for her.

“But then I taste the alcohol and get sick anyway. Remember the disastrous shot debacle of our first year of university?” She leaned over the toilet again, vomited, spit, and wiped her mouth before flushing. Bastian smirked. She’d been determined to learn how to do shots so she could join in at the occasional parties they went to and asked him to teach her. Four shots in, and she vomited all over the table.

“You mean the time you wanted to expand your party skills and asked me to help? That shot debacle?” Bastiangrinned, and when it seemed like she was done emptying her stomach, he stood up, grabbing a facecloth and running it under cold water. He sat down again and gently encouraged her to lean against his chest, then wiped off her face and neck. “You could just try sipping a nice, twelve-year-old scotch with me sometime.”

Mirabelle gagged again. “Nope. No more alcohol.” She quickly leaned forward over the toilet again, but this time, it was just dry heaves. “Oh, thank god, there's nothing left.” She murmured, leaning back against him, and he handed her the water. “Thank you.” She mumbled, very clearly put out that she had to say it.

“No problem, Bunny.” He wiped the sweat off her forehead and the back of her neck with the damp facecloth then tossed it up into the sink.

“Pretty sure I told you not to call me that,” she grumbled. He let out a sad sigh, obviously sobering up a little hadn’t made her any less mad at him, but he’d be damned before he’d give up his nickname for her. She washisBunny, damn it, and she knew he loved her, even if she was currently in denial.

“Pretty sure it's my special nickname that I've been using since we were nine, and you spent a solid three months jumping and hopping everywhere, so I don't think you have a say.” He really was trying to remain patient and understanding with her, recognizing it was his fault that they were even having this conversation, but he wished she would have just let him explain instead of continuing to snap and snipe at him. His patience was quickly starting to erode. They both fell quiet, and after a minute, Mirabelle stood up, looking annoyed.

“Let's go have this conversation in the living room since you seem so eager to remind me of our history.” Bastianscrambled to his feet, watching her roll her eyes as she left the room. “Which is pretty fucking manipulative of you, counsellor.”

“That's not fair, nor was it what I was trying to do, Mira.” Bastian deliberately kept his voice very calm and rational. Calling him a counsellor had given him a way to keep his temper in check. Since she was determined to put him in the hot seat, he’d treat this like a trial. “I would have said that regardless of how mad you were with me.”

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