Page 20 of The Artist
“I’m just so used to being on guard when it comes to Aubri and Freya. I didn’t even stop to think if you wanted to go with him, and I’m not sure if you understand how we Nmen work.”
Belle slowed down. “How you work? Care to elaborate on that?”
Of all the French people I knew, Belle spoke the best English; her accent was minimal but cute.
“Obviously, I can’t speak for all men, but most of us aren’t looking for different sex partners as much as a wife to share our lives with. Jones might just be twenty-two, but he has talked about you since he first met you three years ago. He even asked me for your contact information so he could write you.”
“He didn’t write me.”
“No, because I said I didn’t have your contact details.”
She arched a brow. “You could have easily gotten them from Victor, Freya, or Aubri.”
We had stopped walking and I crossed my arms. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Mason, don’t piss on my back and tell me it’s raining.”
“Excuse me?” I burst into a laugh. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. It’s a direct translation, but you understood, didn’t you?”
“Yes, you’re saying that I lied to you.”
“Of course. It would have taken you no time to get Jones my contact information. You didn’t want to.”
I scrunched up my mouth. “You’re right, but that’s because I figured that you’d break his heart.”
“Me?” Her hand went to her collarbone. “Do I seem like an unkind person to you? Do you not think I would have responded?”
“I know you would, but it’s not like you can ever give him what he’s hoping for. No French person has ever married a Northlander. You people keep to yourselves and think we’re crazy for binding ourselves to one person.” My voice rose a little as my pulse sped up. “I didn’t want to encourage him to pursue a hopeless dream.”
Belle leaned closer and furrowed her pretty eyebrows. “Stop thinking you can read my mind or predict the future. You don’t know what would have happened if Jones had written me. Maybe we would have become best friends.”
Her closeness made my heart race even faster. “Don’t be naïve. Jones wants more than friendship from you. Hell, most of the men here would feel the same way.”
Her mouth opened and I felt like she was looking deep into my skull as if she could somehow rummage through my thoughts. “But not you.”
I blinked my eyes trying to recover from the intense eye contact that made me want things that I shouldn’t. Belle was waiting for an answer, but I had no idea what she’d just said. In my mind I had tasted those lips that were so close to me.
With a roll of her eyes, she walked on.
“Wait.”
She spun and pointed a shaky hand at me. “I used to think you were special, Mason. I remember you being kind and funny. That time when the Motlanders insisted that we had to learn that silly dance and you didn’t even hesitate before offering to be my partner. Or the first time we came to the Northlands and you gave me a piggy-back ride when I twisted my ankle on that ridiculously long hike. I thought of you as a friend, Mason, and I was so excited to come here and see you and the others, but you’ve changed.”
I stared at her with my mouth wide open, my mind hung up on the fact that she had thought of me as her friend. I didn’t have any female friends. The women I knew were all family or friends of my family. Straightening up I collected myself. “I haven’t changed. I just fucked up and said the wrong thing. I can still be your friend. At least until I marry.”
Belle’s eyes closed and her finger lifted to rub her temple as if our argument made her head hurt. “Are you saying that once you marry you won’t be my friend anymore?”
I kept silent, not knowing how to explain our culture.
“I see.” Her hand fell to her side. “Then what’s the point of even pretending to be my friend now?”
“It’s not like that. Our culture is just different from yours. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You know what I don’t understand, Mason? For all you Northlanders’ talk about marriage, how come none of you have married yet? Every year I expect to find at least one of you in a partnership, but no.”
I hesitated for a moment, before giving the short answer. “We all have our reasons.”
