Things get really tense this chapter. We just might end up finding out who Olivier is.
Warning: Abortion consideration and miscarriage.
She's done this four times before, why are her hands shaking so much? Swallowing hard, she sets a timer on her phone for three minutes and places it on the side of the sink before taking a seat on the closed toilet seat.
What if it's positive? We can't handle another child right now. Catherine's sick. Francis is spiralling. I have to choose between looking after him and whatever is potentially growing inside me. Francis will always come first if he needs me. There are other chances...
Her thoughts swirl around her mind like a tornado, gripping her in uncertainty as tears spring to her eyes and she covers her face. She so wants another baby, they've been trying and it's not like they have practised safe sex in years. Their mentality is: if it happens, it happens. Back then they wanted it to happen but right now, it's the furthest thing from Mary's list of wants and now she doesn't want it to happen. Not for another year at least until they're in a better, more mentally stable, less alcoholic stage of their life.
It pisses her off greatly. Her life has never been one of damn convenience. A lot of things haven't gone her way and it's not exactly the thing she needs right now.
But maybe it could help.
But maybe it couldn't. It could make things much worse - she can look at Kenna and Bash if she needs solid evidence. Kenna's birthday the other day on Tuesday and she spent most of her special day glaring daggers at Bash who tried his best to shower her with gifts and love, even making sure she didn't lift a finger with the kids and Mary felt awkward seeing it all. It will take a long time to thaw that iceberg in their marriage and Mary knows there's one in hers too no matter how sexually active they are, there are unspoken conversations. Conversations needed to be aired out, hurtful or not.
It makes Mary quite morose about the whole thing. How wonderful life was before kids and real-life came into the mix. She wouldn't give up any of it for anything but right now, she wishes she was a little girl who went out to the shops with her then-very healthy mother and older brother. Times were a lot simpler back then.
The timer goes off and Mary stands, silences the timer and warily eyes the two positive tests. One with two pink lines and the other with a digital 'Pregnant' written on the screen.
For the first time in her entire life, she grabs her phone, searches up a number and dials it.
"Hello? I'd like to book an abortion, please."
She's shaking and tears are already leaking from her eyes as sobs clog her throat up. It's such a foreign thing for her to do but right now, she needs to do what's best for her, her marriage and her family.
...
Four Years Ago
Mary winces as she hears her lecturer's voice become muffled in her ears from the intense pain in her abdomen. It's sharp and she swallows down hard. Shaking, she stands, relieved she's at the back of the lecture hall and that the seat beneath her is not stained. It's probably her period but this pain is more painful and uncomfortable than usual.
She almost lets out a moan when another wave of pain hits her but she swallows it down and hurries out the door with her things. She won't be able to sit through that class for a good while after her much-needed trip to the bathroom to pad herself up.
"Fu-" She cuts off her own curse as she stumbles into the ladies', quickly heading to a stall and dumping her bag and textbooks and notebooks onto the ground before yanking her jeans down and gasping at the sight of blood.
It's a lot more blood than she's used to for her period and she sinks onto the toilet, her quivering hand reaching for her phone to check her period app. She hasn't had a period in almost four months.
A sob escapes her mouth when she realises what's going on and she covers her mouth to muffle the ones coming quickly as the pain intensifies. She's losing her baby in the ladies' bathroom of her university.
The door opens to the toilets and she holds her breath, her face red and wet from all the ugly crying she's been doing. Frowning at the sound of a lock which is not of the stalls', she hears a knock on her stall door.
"Madamoiselle?"
It's her lecturer, Madame LaMontagne and she knocks again.
"Madamoiselle, are you okay?"
Mary sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Y-Yeah, I..." Then she breaks down sobbing. "No."
"I ended the lecture after I saw you hurry out," Madame LaMontagne explains. "You forgot your laptop and I saw... I saw droplets of blood."
Mary unlocks the stall uncertainly and the older woman cautiously peeks her head through. "I think I'm miscarrying..."
The lecturer sighs heavily and nods. "Glad I brought these," she says, showing Mary a packet of sanitary towels and a fresh pair of jeans. "I always keep a spare just in case." She hands them to Mary and steps back out to wait for her.
Mary locks the door and sorts herself out before neatly putting her stuff away, her bloodied jeans in the plastic bag the lecturer gave her and leaving the stall. She retrieves her closed laptop and puts it away before washing her hands.
"Th-Thank you," she stammers.
"It happens," Madame LaMontagne says sadly. "It happened to me. I'm so sorry, Mary... But you'll be okay. I'll drive you to the hospital."
"You don't have-"
"I want to. To make sure, you're okay," Madame LaMontagne says gently. "Is there anyone I can call for you to meet you there?"
Mary nods. "My husband."
"Okay. Let's go."
At the hospital, after she's been checked over and given some advice and painkillers, her lecturer leaves and Francis hurries into the cubicle, bringing her into his arms tightly as she closes her eyes and basks in his presence.
"Oh, Mary..." He breathes out. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should have been there-"
"You can't be there at my closed lecture," she says, slightly amused as she hops off the bed. "I'm okay."
Francis studies her eyes before nodding and kissing her softly. "Mary, you are so strong, never forget that. You are a great mother to Jamie and Annie and one day, we'll have another baby. It just wasn't this one's time. We're still young, we'll have more when the time is right."
"Promise?" Mary says tearfully.
"Oh, I promise, my beautiful, strong wife," Francis says, hugging her tightly, his fingers running down her raven locks as her arms wind around his waist. "I promise..."
...
Present Day
"This is lovely. Time away from the kids, a good old conversation with adults," Lola chimes, nervously sipping her wine as everyone silently picks at their meals.
"We missed this," Greer adds. "Didn't we, Leith?"
Leith blinks in surprise and nods quickly. "Uh, yeah. Work has been hectic so it's a lovely break..."
"Mhm," Mary says, about to reach for her wine but remembering not to. Even Francis rejects the alcohol on the table and she almost drains all of it down the sink. She eyes Kenna who's on her fifth glass of rosé and Bash subtly attempts to make her slow down.
"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," Remy states, already checking he has his wallet as Lola even makes to grab her coat. "Let's try this again when we're all stable enough to handle it."
Leith sighs and stands with Greer. "Poker this Sunday, boys?"
"I can't," Bash says, eyeing Kenna briefly.
"Oh-kay," Leith drawls, turning to Francis. "Don't bail, please."
Francis sighs. "I'll see."
Both couples leave and Francis downs his wine glass before turning to Mary and gesturing to the door. She nods and stands, putting her coat on with him helping her.
"Do you need help getting her to the car?" Mary asks Bash, nudging her head towards Kenna who is now covering her face. Probably from embarrassment, Mary doesn't know.
"No-"
"Mary, help me, will you?" Kenna cuts her husband off as she gets to her feet and puts her coat on. She digs into her purse and slips out the payment of all of their meals.
"You don't have to-"
"Francis, this 'Friday Dinner' thing was absolutely shit," Kenna tells him. "So, let me at least make it better by paying for it. It won't cripple me."
"Fine," Francis says tightly, letting one of the waiters collect it before telling them to let Pedro lock up tonight. He walks beside Bash as the ladies head on ahead of them, arms linked. "So, things still aren't there yet."
"She hates me," Bash says quietly. "I'm trying. I love her and I know I hurt her and it will take a good while until she forgives me. In her eyes, right now, I'm no worse than the men who raped her."
Francis winces. "Bash! Why would-"
They come to a stop as Bash says, "It's true. How could I do that to her? I know we've not been perfect but that is our novelty, what makes us work well. We don't have high expectations, we're not always overly emotional and talkative, we're just... us."
"What was it about this other woman that made you go to her?" Francis asks him. "You never really said."
Bash sighs. "She's everything Kenna isn't. Patient... God, Kenna is so impatient but strangely, I love that about her. She'll change directions of whatever she was talking about yet always still make sense when it came full circle... Delphine is... she wears boring colours, nothing that stands out, doesn't crave attention, she's quiet... At home, I have loud, colourful decorations, a wife who's on TV every day, who's a fireball of energy... I needed a balance and I honestly thought that at the rate Kenna and I were arguing and going around in circles... I was ready for the divorce papers. Made me think about the time I spoke to the divorce lawyer. I was tired, I just wanted some peace and Delphine was that peace."
"And now?" Francis asks shakily.
"I've got to think about the kids. We can't ruin their lives just because we're off and on," Bash replies.
"But without the kids in the equation, would you still want Kenna. Loud, colourful, energetic, kind of-famous Kenna?"
Bash swallows hard, closing his eyes. "I don't know, Francis. No? I-"
They hear some things clink on the pavement and footsteps walk off and Francis looks over Bash's shoulder to see Mary scoffing and Kenna's retreating form. Francis closes his eyes and soon hears Mary's footsteps head to catch up with Kenna's.
"Kenna, wait, please!" She cries out.
When he opens his eyes, they land on the two rings on the ground.
"God, what did I just say?"
Francis clicks his tongue. "Something that's just ended your marriage."
...
"Francis?" Mary frowns, rubbing the side of her head as she tiredly heads to the sink. "Why are you awake?"
Francis sighs, shaking his head. "I don't know," he mutters before taking a long sip of the clear liquid in his glass cup.
"Is that water?" She asks, running the tap and filling a glass with water.
"Want to taste?" He snaps.
She winces at his tone and shuts the tap off, turning to face him as she takes a sip of her water. "I trust you."
He falters under her words but circles a spot on the counter island with his finger. "So much happened last night."
"Yeah, your fucking arsehole of a brother dumped his wife in public," Mary replies. "Do you know how much damage he's done?"
"I think it's just a couple of stressful months. He doesn't mean it. I know he loves-"
"You're naïve, Francis," Mary tells him. "People show their true colours eventually."
Francis looks up to meet her eyes. "And what are yours?"
"You know me inside and out," Mary replies simply.
"What if I don't really know you at all?"
"Trust me, if I was hiding something, you'd know ages ago because I'm a shitty liar," Mary says, rubbing a hand down her face with a slightly frustrated groan. "And your brother is... he's something else."
Francis rolls his eyes. "He's not in my good books either, so stop acting as we're all grouped into one box labelled 'cheating scum'."
"But you're all wired the same, right?" Mary retorts. "You've all got some arsehole aspects in you."
"And don't women have 'fucking crazy bitch' written on their foreheads in invisible ink?"
Mary glares at him. "So, I'm a crazy bitch now?"
"You're the one implying I've got some dirty, shitty secret!" Francis replies.
"Well, your ex-girlfriend committed suicide after you rejected her-"
"Fuck you, Mary," Francis cuts her off.
"Shit. I didn't mean..." She closes her eyes tightly and tries to stop her tears from falling down her cheeks but she fails. She doesn't know what this is, she's just so tired and angry and fed up and now... she's so unsure about her pregnancy. "Francis, I think we both need to focus on ourselves."
"Mary-"
"I want you to see Dr Renier. Please," she begs him with a sob. "I don't want to end up with you telling me you don't want me anymore in front of everyone on the damn street!"
Francis stands and hurries over to take her into his arms as she sobs against his chest. "Oh, Mary. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," she tells him tearfully. "I just feel like we're being pulled into different directions. You're not talking to me! If you can't, talk to someone, anyone. Just stop drinking and hurting me and our children. They deserve better. I need you to be sober."
Francis nods and goes to grab his glass before pouring the contents down the sink. He then retrieves all the bottles of alcohol in their home, including their specially-reserved-for-Christmas Bailey's.
"Maybe you should lock this one," he says when she glares at him for taking the luxury black bottle of liquor. He puts that back and even the old bottle his father saved before draining the spirits and wines down the drain. "Cold-turkey."
"Thank you," Mary breathes out.
When he's finished, she hugs him tightly and presses a kiss against his lips.
"I'll get Dr Renier to make you an appointment ASAP," she tells him. "Thank you, Francis..."
"I'm sorry," Francis replies, pressing a kiss on her forehead before sighing and closing his eyes as she rests against his chest.
...
"Francis, it's good to see you," Dr Renier says, shaking the blonde's hand before gesturing for him to take a seat. "How are you?"
Francis smiles wryly. "I'm good, thanks. Thank you for seeing me so quickly."
Dr Renier beams. "It's no problem. We have an hour for our lunch breaks but I only eat for five of those minutes. You don't mind if I eat, do you? My wife made chicken sandwiches for me today."
Chuckling, Francis shakes his head. "Go ahead."
The older man nods gratefully and retrieves a triangular half of his sandwich before shifting the side table beside him to make it comfortable for his left hand to write down notes with on his notebook.
"What brings you here today, Francis?"
Francis shares an amused glance with the man. "My wife but for the record, I agreed with her decision."
"Your wife is a very convincing person," Dr Renier replies lightly. "Have you ever sought therapy before?"
"A few times after my dad died. Didn't really see the use for one after I had Mary to talk to but she obviously gets enough of that here," Francis tells the man. "The sessions were helpful."
Dr Renier nods. "So, what do you think is the problem?"
Francis swallows hard, lowering his gaze. "I feel like I didn't know my parents at all. I mean, they made me, raised me but... they still keep stuff from me. Even when they're dead or slowly forgetting who I am. And then there are my nightmares... that my children will end up in my position. Everything they know, suddenly being changed."
"How do those situations make you feel?"
"Angry. Sad. Scared. Depressed..."
"Would that tie into how your mood has been lately?" Dr Renier asks gently, almost knowingly.
Francis meets his eyes with slight curiosity over whether his wife speaks about him behind his back. "I think Mary's probably told you I've been really shitty lately." He averts his gaze. "That I've been drinking... Hate the taste but it helps dull everything."
"Hmm," Dr Renier replies, scribbling something down before finishing his lunch and taking the notepad and pen back into his grip. "Everyone who comes here expects something different from me as their support. Some people like to receive homework, some clients like to vent and have me listen, and others want a high level of interaction. What do you expect from the counselling process, from me?"
"I just want... I don't want surprises," Francis says quietly, his eyes becoming glassy. "I think I just need to talk and I used to be so good at that, you know? But sometimes she doesn't understand."
"Who?"
"Mary. I don't know if she can understand," Francis continues. "Yes, we're both grieving for our parents but they died under different circumstances. I'll never understand the emotions she felt nursing her mother until her death just as she'll never understand what I felt when my mother came to tell me and my brother our father died within the hour he just said he loved us. I bet she knew everything about her parents... Their lives, their deaths... But with me... I have to hear my mother miscall my name to find out that I have a half-brother."
Dr Renier studies Francis and Francis blinks away tears, rubbing his palms against his thighs. "Breathe. Count to three and breathe."
Francis does as told and he relaxes against the sofa, his eyes landing on the ceiling. "Th-Thanks. That's never happened before."
"Sometimes venting brings out different emotions and reactions," Dr Renier explains. "Let's move onto another subject for now. Would you rate your communication skills as negative, neutral or positive?"
"Positive, mostly. These couple of years have been hard though so... neutral," Francis says honestly. "Sorry-"
"No, don't apologise," Dr Renier says kindly. "How well do you get along with Mary?"
Francis smiles a little. "Does she complain about me?"
"Let's focus on how you feel about her," Dr Renier replies.
Francis sighs. "We get on mostly. But I'm hurting her right now. I don't like hurting her... I don't want my marriage to break down like my brother's is right now. Sometimes I wished the world stopped just so I could be in her arms and... just be. She's the love of my life and every time I see her, I still get butterflies, even when we're arguing over something so pointless and we're being petty. I love her."
"What positive relationship rules do you follow with Mary?"
"We always talk, no matter what. We are mostly on the same page, even with parenting our kids," Francis tells him. "Even when we go to bed angry, we always make sure the other is there because we know we won't ever leave or reject each other over something so menial. We're loyal, rational... We were friends before lovers so it makes it easier, that I can talk to her and she just gets it. Especially when we were in university and we'd both suffered the loss of our parents. We trust each other, we're patient with each other. Committed. Honest. Besides my mother, she's a woman I hold in high regard. What you see with Mary is what you get. And she makes me smile..."
Dr Renier writes down notes and he looks back up after a while. "How would you describe your relationship with your kids?"
"Mary and I have an openness rule in our family. Our children can come to us with any problems they have, nothing they say is wrong. Lately, I've been harsher, especially to my only son... My grief, my fears... they're negatively affecting my relationship with my kids. I know my son is now hesitant to tell me things but I love him and I just want him to know that I don't mean to be angry all the time. But overall, my kids adore me and I adore them. I'll do anything for them and they help me without even knowing it."
"I've seen pictures of them," Dr Renier says. "They're so beautiful. Cherish them."
"I always do," Francis replies fondly.
Dr Renier clears his throat, takes a sip from his water bottle and continues with, "You have siblings, right? A brother...?"
"And older brother. He's my half-brother but my mother adopted him when she and my father got back together after separating. I have two younger full sisters and the youngest two are full brothers. And now... a half-brother from my mother's side."
"We won't get onto the maternal half-brother today but do you get along with your siblings?"
Francis nods. "We're like a wolf pack. We think as one whenever we're together for holidays. We grew up incredibly close, very protective, especially my older brother and me with our younger siblings, our sisters mainly. When our father died, Sebastian became the man of the house and I helped him whenever Charles and Hercule got frustrated at the shift in roles. Today? Still as close as ever. We've been in and out of contact over the years, everyone's doing their own thing but we're there when we need each other. No matter what or where. I am so lucky to have grown up in that environment."
"Good to hear." Dr Renier smiles before glancing down at his notes. "How would you best describe your relationship with your parents?"
Francis takes a sharp intake of breath in. "Before Dad's death, really close. The occasional, 'I want to adult now' cases but other than that, I cherished them as much as I could. My dad was always there for us, he'd give us meaningful gifts like..." He digs out his red ribbon from his coat pocket and shows the man. "Ribbons to tell us of our great love stories. He was the best. I found out he was sick and that skewed my opinion of him but it never diminished the torch I held in his honour. Never stopped me from doing all I did to make him proud, from naming my son after him... With my mother... Well, now, she's held this secret for so long, I don't know where we're at right now. Especially as I'm the only one who knows. Other than Bash but he was little, I don't think he'll remember this other child of hers."
"I see," Dr Renier says softly. "Let's go back to your nightmares."
Francis sighs. "Yeah?"
"Tell me about them in detail."
"Okay... Uh, I have these dreams that I'm in an out of body experience where I'm dead and I'm watching my family mourn me. My dad used to promise that he'd always be there for me but then he left so unexpectedly, I'm scared that will happen to my own kids. They're only little, James is almost seven and Anne is almost six. Even Rose's second birthday is around the corner so if I were to die right now," Francis takes a pause to down some water through his throat. "They won't remember me. And resent me for not being there in their futures."
Dr Renier's brow raises. "Do you resent your father?"
"What?"
"You said earlier that you were scared your children would end up in your position. So, they'd resent you the way you resent your father?" Dr Renier asks.
Francis blinks in surprise. "I guess I do hate him. For br-breaking his promises." His shoulders sag and he feels so awful just admitting that. "I hate both of them. Because they set the bar so high, they were wonderful and now... they're not."
...
Ten Years Ago
Shakily, Francis places the fresh flowers in front of the gravestone and arranges them neatly. When he's satisfied, he stands back up and dusts his hands off before sticking them in his pockets, feeling the cold of the winter air bite at his skin.
"Hey, Dad," he says, turning to see Bash just staring intently at the gravestone as if it would disappear and their father will appear in its place.
He's a mess right now, they both are. He and Mary aren't together anymore, although he seriously wishes he could take the words back but he's in too much pain right now. She doesn't need his drama, his grief... She's been through enough of her own and he has to do this alone. He can't drag her down with him.
"So, one year since you've been gone..." Francis trails off, tears running down his cheeks. "I miss you." He turns to Bash. "Say something."
"It's not him," Bash says quietly. "His body's there but it's not his spirit or-"
"Just say something. Who are we to know how death works?" Francis cuts him off, wiping his tears away. "The therapist said it will work so..."
"Hi," Bash says simply, giving Francis an 'are you happy now?' look.
Francis rolls his eyes and crouches, putting his gloves on and touching the gravestone. "Don't mind him, you know how he is." He sniffles. "Mum took the boys to the theme park today. Leeza hung out with Philip, you liked him; he's still good to her. And Claude... Well, she got a new pair of boots so she's satisfied, I think. We're going to light some candles for you and just... well, think about you. We always do, but I guess think about you some more."
Bash sighs heavily, taking a seat beside Francis. "I'm quitting the restaurants, Dad. I want to join the police force. Give me a sign if you think I'm doing the right thing. For me."
Nothing comes and he sighs, turning to Francis pointedly. There's no such thing as spirits and dead relatives still being around. They're gone. They can't hear-
They hear a rustling of something and they turn their heads quickly in the direction of an orange and white furry thing. A fox. The fox trollops near them and sniffs the flowers in front of Henry's gravestone before looking up at them thoughtfully and leaving.
"What the fuck...?" Bash breathes out.
Francis smiles warmly. "See, never underestimate our father. He hears us. We just have to hear him back." He looks back at the gravestone. "I love you so much. I wish you were here. I hope you don't break your promise to me, even when you're gone..."
...
Present Day
"I forgive you, Dad. For breaking your promise," Francis says shakily to the man's gravestone. "You were stronger than I believed and I'm sorry for ever doubting your love for me. For us, all of us." Because you were other children's father too and a woman's husband.
His father married his mother and divorced her. He married Bash's mother and divorced her too. But then he found his home again in Catherine and they never suffered any grief since then. Until his death.
He hears someone walk over and he turns to see Bash give him a small smile. "What brings you here?" He asks his older brother.
"Fatherly advice on how to parent more than one kid," Bash says lightly before sighing. "From a distance. He wouldn't know much about it but might have something for me to use."
Francis clicks his tongue and crosses his arms. "It's really over?"
"I think it is," Bash replies tightly. "We'll live together for now with separate rooms, separate lives... We don't want to disturb the kids but when they're old enough, I'll move into the condo and we'll switch who gets to stay with the kids and who is with the pets... Uh, one of the babies is allergic so we're either rehoming the pets or keeping them outside."
"Why don't you fight for her? See a marriage therapist or something. I know you don't want this," Francis says.
Bash raises a brow. "And I know you rely on something a little too much, it's affecting your life. Why are you drinking?"
"Why did you cheat?"
Bash lets out a slight chuckle, heading towards a bench nearby and taking a seat. "So defensive."
Francis joins him. "Do you know Olivier?"
"Who's that?"
"Oh," Francis says softly.
Bash frowns, giving him a look of confusion. "Who is he? Am I supposed to know him?"
"He is or was Mum's son," Francis tells him.
"What? When?"
"I don't even know. She clamped up and kicked me out when I tried to demand answers from her," Francis says, running his fingers through his hair. "I feel like everything we know about Maman and Papa is... different."
Bash sighs heavily, shrugging. "Everyone grows differently. Nobody is flawless, Francis. I didn't see myself cheating on Kenna when we first got together but circumstances change, people change, marriages shift and the world becomes unreadable and we have to learn to understand it all over again. It's a process. Life is a process and we're programmed to adapt, falter and carry on."
Francis turns to him. "If Maman doesn't tell us who he is or where it is, find him with me."
"Francis, I-"
"You have the resources to find out who he is. Do it."
Bash lowers his gaze. "I'll see what I can find."
...
"Come in for some tea," Bash offers when Francis pulls up in front of the large home. "The kids are probably asleep, so..."
Francis nods and undoes his seatbelt, both of them getting out of the car and Francis locking it with the fob. He follows Bash up the driveway and up the porch steps, watching as he retrieves his keys and unlocks the front door.
Most of the lights are off, except for the one in the open-plan living space where Kenna is curled up on the sofa, watching TV. She turns to them and Francis waves meekly, her eyes narrowing a little before she turns away. Bash sighs, grabbing the teabags from the kitchen cupboard and lifting his head to look at her.
"I'm making tea. Want one, Kenna?"
"No."
"Okay," Bash says, filling the kettle up and switching it on before grabbing two mugs for him and Francis. He stuffs the teabags inside and leans against the counter as he waits for the kettle.
Francis checks the time on the wall and he shifts on his feet, feeling the tension in the house. "Did the kids go down well, Kenna?"
Kenna turns on the sofa. "Yeah, they did." She rests her chin on the back of the sofa and watches them. Her eyes follow Bash's movements as he grabs the finished kettle and starts pouring the liquid into the mugs.
"Good," Francis says, gratefully taking his tea when it's finished.
"So, where do you think we can find more information about Olivier from?" Bash asks under his breath as Kenna returns her attention to the TV.
Francis pulls a face. "Nonna and Nonno, maybe? She was cagey so I doubt they'd know anything that happened here in France."
"We could try. I'm going to need more than a crumble to find the whole cake," Bash replies. "Let's talk outside." They head into the back porch and take a seat on the swinging bench. "She's always tense when I'm around. It's not good for her."
Francis nods knowingly. "Okay. So, uh, there are no pictures of him... Wait..." He retrieves his phone from his pocket and finds the number he managed to narrow down for Catherine to contact the man. "This guy, she used to date him or something back in school in Italy. He lives back here in France. Maybe he knows something?"
"Maybe he's the dad and she's just not telling us. She told you to find him, right?"
"Yeah."
"Do the others know?"
Francis shakes his head. "Only us two."
Bash nods and sighs. "See this guy first, I'll go with you. Then, we'll let them meet. We want answers and we probably won't get them with her meeting him first."
"Okay," Francis replies. This is the second time they've done digging on their parents' secret lives. They found relatives through this, some they see rarely or call frequently. "Okay." He peeks through the window and sees Kenna anxiously staring at the TV. "Bash, what you did to Kenna was really bad."
"I know."
"She's been through so much-"
"I know-"
"Just listen, okay? I'm no therapist but you know I'll always be honest with you," Francis tells him.
Bash turns to face him. "Okay."
"Right. Uh, when I saw you both meet each other for the first time, I could literally see the sparks flying. It was weird and I could hear how happy you both were just from your very dull and brief conversation about muffins and cookies," Francis says with a slight smile. "Even a blind person could see how much you liked each other. So, it's not 'attraction' you have an issue with. It's 'commitment'. You've never really stuck things out except university and your dream to be in the police force. If it's anything to do with relationships, you're terrible."
"I know I am," Bash mumbles, giving him a wry smile. "You think you're all disappointed and tutting? I'm doing that to myself when I wake up and she's not there beside me. When I'm helping her with two kids as she feeds the other two. When I talk to our daughter and hear how much pain she's going through because of me. We all can't be as perfect as Papa was, Francis. And I hate that because I'm weak and I'm terrified that if I tell her I don't want to split up, she'll do everything in her power to hurt me as much as I hurt her. She doesn't give second chances, I know that but I need it. I need her."
"Tell that to her. Marriages can survive infidelity," Francis replies, finishing his tea. "I should get going."
Bash stands. "I'll walk you out."
They head back inside, Bash placing their mugs in the sink.
"I'm going," Francis calls out to Kenna.
She jumps up from her seat and gestures for him to go to the door with her. "I will walk you out."
"I was-"
"Alone," Kenna says firmly, cutting Bash off. She watches as he backs away and heads upstairs before leading Francis to the door. "I heard what he said outside. Do you think, and be honest with me."
"Yeah?"
Kenna looks down. "He really loves me. Like he's willing to be committed to me again and regrets what he did?"
Francis smiles a little. "He thinks the world of you. He made terrible mistakes and he is beating himself up about it. I have no right to tell you what to do in your marriage but I think you guys can get through this. With time."
"Okay," Kenna says, licking her bottom lip nervously. "Remember when you and Bash found me in the bathroom, the day I was raped?"
Francis nods. "Yeah..."
"I was thinking about how he never judged me for attempting to... to die. He's seen me at my lowest, you all have and he's been a decent husband until the whole affair thing," she says tightly. "Anyway, give Mary and the kids my love."
Francis steps out of the house and turns to her. "Will you forgive him?"
"I have already forgiven him, I just need time to heal and for me to build that trust between us again," she replies honestly. "Thank you."
"Yeah. Night."
"Night," she replies, closing the door as he heads down the driveway to get into his car.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and drops Nostradamus a text.
...
"You've been out all day," Mary says when he arrives home and finds her sipping hot chocolate in their bed.
"Let's talk downstairs," he suggests quietly, heading down before she follows with her mug. He makes his way over to the smart device and links his phone to it before calling out a song for it to play. Before long, the music is quiet in the living space and Mary raises her brows in amusement.
"You want to argue because the music's on," she says lightly, slightly unsure of where this is going.
He gives her a smile, taking her mug from her hand before placing it on the coffee table and pulling her into a dance. "Kids are asleep?"
"Yeah," Mary replies, laughing when he dips her and presses a kiss against her lips. "What was that for?"
Francis looks at her warmly. "I want to thank you for forcing me to see Dr Renier. He's good."
She's brought back up, her arms winding around his neck. "I don't want to see you hurting. If you can't talk to me, you need to talk to someone who can help."
"I know," he breathes out. "There's so much to tell you but not right now. I have to sort through them myself first." He presses a kiss on her forehead. "I'm so sorry, I've treated you like shit."
"No, you haven't," Mary chides. "You've been stressed. I know. I get it."
Francis smiles. "I know you do. That's why I love you," he says, making her smile back before meeting her lips for another kiss. "I'm going to make it up to you. And the kids. We'll go somewhere exciting for the Summer holidays."
"Can we afford 'exciting'?"
Francis mockingly answers a call with his fingers. "'This is the bank calling to say, you can afford Disney World Florida exciting'."
"The kids are going to lose it," Mary says, laughing a little.
"I've already booked it. I want us to heal together and for me to stop being a grump all the time and enjoy the time I have with you and our babies. They're growing up so fast," he says, resting his chin on her shoulder as she grins, biting her bottom lip.
Then her smile leaves her face when she realises that she's kept her pregnancy from him for a month.
Pulling away from him, stopping his side to side dancing, she says, "I'm pregnant."
When he doesn't say anything but stares intently at her and her flat tummy, Mary feels her anxiety rise.
She's told him.