Chapter Text
“To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls.”
—
Walt Whitman, “Song of the Open Road”
Mon 2022-05-22 6:27am | Scheduled to send: upon reconnecting to Wi-Fi
To: Marilla Cuthbert ([email protected])
From: Anne Shirley-Cuthbert ([email protected])
Marilla My-Rilla,
The Atlantic Ocean is tremendous. I mean that in both senses of the word, because of course the ocean would be excellent to behold. But holy crackers, is it HUGE! I stared out the window for ten whole minutes (much to Josie’s dismay, of course she got the window seat) and saw nothing but water and waves for miles and miles. Sunrise was about a half hour ago and it was quite possibly the most beautiful dawn I have ever beheld in my nineteen years of life—second to the ones at Green Gables, of course. It haloed the horizon, all wide and open. Jane might’ve teased me for it, but I teared up just a little.
All of that is to say, I successfully jumped through every hoop the airport threw at me at 4AM and earned my rightful seat in 25B. I noticed the plane is actually missing Row 13, and when I asked the flight attendant why that was, she told me it was because the number 13 is unlucky. I don’t think she was very pleased to be receiving those types of questions so early in the morning.
As I said, Josie got the window seat. She promised I could have it on the way back, but it won’t be nearly as exciting. All those beautiful sights I want to see, I have to experience them hunched over her lap and this fleece blanket that takes up entirely too much space in our row. It’s not so bad, though. Diana is on my other side and I don’t know what I would’ve done if she’d been across the plane like Ruby is. She got squished between two American businessmen who are twice her size. I just glanced over at her and I think she’s playing dead.
I read through all the articles you printed out for me about how to be comfortable on a long trip, just like I promised. Comfy, loose fitting socks? Check. Extra-drowsy motion sickness pills? Check. That one sleeping mask Rachel sewed for me last Christmas? Check. I’m not even afraid like I thought I would be. Vibrating with excitement, maybe, but not frightened. Not with an ocean so beautiful underneath me.
But even with all of this, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep a wink. Not when I know what’s waiting for me in Paris.
Okay, not actually waiting. With any luck, my favourite tall-dark-and-handsome boyfriend will be blissfully unaware that I am coming to visit. But he always sounds so lonesome and exhausted in his letters. One time there was literally a teardrop on the page that had dried! I know the long distance has been hard. He’s been so invested in his schoolwork, working his butt off to be as successful as a person can be. But if he can succeed at the Sorbonne , he can succeed anywhere! He just has to get over missing all his friends he met Redmond (and yes, by friends I mean me). Hopefully my surprise will help ease his heart.
The girls still don’t know who my “mystery boyfriend” is. They kept threatening to try to get information out of you, but I told them if you wouldn’t even tell Rachel, then you wouldn’t tell them. They seem pretty certain they know who it is, even though I insist they’re in for a real shock. After all, I once swore I would NEVER date him.
But he won my heart in a way I doubt anyone else ever could. He’s just…perfect!
Oh Marilla, I just can’t think of anything more romantic than travelling Europe with my boyfriend and closest friends. Finally, after months, and months, and MONTHS of planning, we’re on our way at last!
The pilot just told us we’ll be landing in Paris in about ten hours, just one short stop for gas. I’m going to try to stay up as much as I can so I won’t be so jetlagged when we arrive and it’s 9pm instead of 4pm. My goal is to read three books before we land (one of which is 800 pages long). If I’m going to get those Goodreads wins, I better start now.
I’ll send plenty of pictures once I get real wifi. Maybe we can Zoom call and I can show you my hotel room? I know Matthew was worried about there being bed bugs or bad plumbing. I promised him I was in safe hands, so please try to calm his mind, would you?
I love you so very much and miss you already!
Your bold adventurer,
Anne
Anne closed her laptop and slid it into the carry-on leaning at her feet. She filled the empty space in her lap with the first book she planned to tackle, the shortest of the three, and flipped over to the first page. Diana, sleepy-eyed and barely awake, handed her a left earbud. The right was fixed in Diana’s ear, already pouring out one of two hundred songs they’d chosen together as the soundtrack to this adventure. When Anne put in the headphone, Diana bumped the volume up and leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder.
“I’m so glad we bought our tickets on time. If we ended up separated like Ruby was, I think I would’ve thrown myself out that emergency door,” Diana said.
“That’s an awful lot of swimming,” Anne reasoned. Diana only nuzzled into Anne’s shoulder more and wrapped a thin fleece blanket around her shoulders. “Even more if you wanted to swim to France. Then all the hitchhiking you’d have to do to make it to the hotel, and I’m not convinced you know enough French to make it that far.”
“It’s not about knowing French, it’s about looking French.”
“My mistake. Thank you for your sage hitchhiking advice, oh wise one,” Anne chuckled. “You know, I think if you even thought about sticking your thumb out, your mom would pass over dead.”
“You’re lucky. You wouldn’t have to hitchhike Anne. That mystery boyfriend of yours would pick you up right on the border.”
Anne chuckled, letting the daydream sweep over her. She had to admit, it would be unbearably romantic if he did—which he wouldn’t, since this whole visit was a surprise. Still, she could see him, long dark hair swept up into one of those wool berets, strong arms ready to hoist her bags onto his shoulders and escort her to his place. But first, he’d tug her into his arms and place his beautiful chin on top of her head. And with a somewhat nervous tone, just suggestive enough to be sexy, he’d ask her if she wanted to see his place. Of course she’d agree, and they’d walk together to his place located conveniently close to the Sorbonne. A loner entirely focused on his studies, he’d live in the flat by himself, with lots of windows and room to read and work. Every inch of the apartment would be freshly cleaned, carefully dusted and organised in preparation for her arrival. And maybe…just maybe…he’d ask her to spend the night.
Her surprise would change that blissful daydream at least a little, but that was an inevitability that Anne was prepared for. His apartment would be clean enough, though not as much as if he’d actually expected her coming. And he wouldn’t be waiting for her. That was what she had his phone location turned on for. But, with any luck, he’d be so overjoyed by her arrival that he’d still invite her back.
“Earth to Anne? You’re not too nervous are you?” Diana asked, bumping Anne’s shoulder with hers. Anne blinked, her boyfriend’s handsome face falling away. The reality of the plane was so much more…well, plain. And depressing. And boring.
Damn, she really wished she had that window seat.
“I’m fine. Just excited to see you-know-who,” Anne answered.
As if summoned by evil and dark forces, Tillie’s ear perked up in the row in front of them. As nonchalantly as an inexperienced spy, Tillie slowly leaned to the divide in her seat to listen better. Sprigs of her curly brown hair poked through the crack, slipping into Anne and Diana’s row.
“Nice try, Til. Not gonna slip with his name.”
Tillie hissed her disapproval and scrunched her nose, an odd sight that Anne only saw part of through the tiny divide.
“The joke’s on you, Anne. I bet a million dollars I already know who it is.”
“I bet you don’t,” hummed Diana quietly, mostly to herself. She tapped the volume a bit lower on their music. “But you could guess.”
Diana, most kindred of all Anne’s friends, already knew the identity of Anne’s secret boyfriend. She’d figured it out the first time she spotted him trying to sneak out Anne’s second floor dorm window at Redmond. The teasing that the couple endured was well worth what Anne had gained in the long run—an ally. A partner in crime to cover her tracks when she almost slipped up and revealed his identity. A best friend to listen to Anne’s mooning when she was overcome with affection for him. A shoulder to cry on when he had to go to France and asked to go long distance.
In short, Diana was invaluable and Anne would surely waste away without her.
“I still don’t get all this sneaking around and secrecy,” Josie griped, rolling her eyes. “So you got a boyfriend. Big deal. We’ve all had one already. Tillie even has two right now. At the same time.”
“Don’t diss my polycule,” huffed Tillie.
Josie ignored her.
“It would’ve been a lot easier to plan if we all knew who he was,” she argued.
“First of all, I adjusted all my plans accordingly and accounted for his presence on the trip,” Anne explained, sending Josie an unimpressed glare. “And if it’s not a big deal, then why have you all been so desperate to find out who he is?”
“It’s not like you to keep secrets,” Jane countered, popping up over the edge of her seat to peer down at Anne. “You’re not…ashamed of him, are you?”
“Of course not!” Anne said, a little too loudly. An older lady across the aisle glared at them through her sleep mask. Anne lowered her voice to a whisper and tried again. “Why would I possibly be ashamed of him? He’s smart, handsome, and everyone around him loves him.”
“Then why keep him a secret?”
“ Maybe because , Josie Pye, not everything needs to be everyone’s business all the time! Maybe I wanted time to figure out my very first real relationship without everyone butting their noses into it—you know, like you guys are now. I wanted time to get my head on straight. To do my relationship right.”
“And not that it’s any of your concern,” Diana cut in, snidely at Josie. “But it’s really hard when you go from having an in-person relationship to long-distance. It changes the entire dynamic. You don’t need everyone around you asking questions and making judgements about what you should and shouldn’t be doing.”
“Alright alright, I get it,” Josie complained, sticking her hands up in the air. “Go ahead. Make your dramatic reveal, see if I care. Hope it’s worth all the hype.”
Tillie—well, just her eyes and nose—poked up over the edge of her seat.
“Can I still guess?” she probed.
Anne fought back the urge to pull her sleeping mask back over her face and turn up the music volume all the way. She folded both hands over her tragically neglected novel and plastered a forced smile on her lips.
“Guess away,” she said. “But I won’t confirm or deny anything. And neither will Diana.”
Tillie and Jane exchanged a glance that told Anne they planned to be so annoying, Anne would break. Let them , she decided. I’m very good at keeping my mouth shut.
“Is he smart?” Tillie began slowly, as if it was the first shot in a very strategic battle.
“Of course he’s smart, he’s interning at the Sorbonne ,” scoffed Anne, only to bite her lip. So much for keeping my mouth shut. Jane’s smile only grew.
“Does he go to Redmond during the school year?”
Another obvious question. One they already knew the answer to. Still, Anne kept her lips locked. Tillie charged on.
“Does he have long dark hair, tower over you when he stands beside you, and have just the most handsome sad expression when he’s about to cry?”
This time, Anne’s head swivelled up to Tillie. Could they…could they know already? Had they seen him sneaking out of her dorm room? Had they seen his messages appear on her phone when she wasn’t looking?
“Does he know his way around poetry?” Josie asked confidently. “Maybe…Whitman in particular?”
“Any guy Anne dates would know poetry. He’d have to!” Diana argued. “That doesn’t tell you anything.”
“So, he does like Whitman.” That told Anne’s friends all they needed to know. Anne shot her best friend a desperate glare. “I rest my case.”
To Anne’s surprise, her friends exchanged a knowing look with each other, and sat primly in their own seats. She narrowed her eyes. How did that tell them anything? Did he really like Whitman that much?
Anne had half a mind to ram her foot into the back of their seats when a friendly pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind. It was an awkward position with the seat in the way, but the assailant was so tall, it didn’t seem to matter. For a split second, Anne feared some stranger had come up behind her and grabbed her. But as soon as Cole Mackenzie pressed his lips to the side of her face, she relaxed and fought off a chuckle.
“How's first class?” she said, voice teasing. Cole squeezed and shook Anne in his arms, the plushy, sky blue fleece of his baggy sweater accidentally catching fuzzies on her mouth.
“It’s not too late to convince them that you’re my wife and I absolutely cannot fly without you,” he joked.
“I’ve got enough confusion around my relationship as it is. I do not need a fake boyfriend. The real one is plenty.”
“I’d be your fake husband ,” Cole corrected, as if it made any difference. “Besides, I know who that secret boyfriend is and his name is—”
“Cole Mackenzie, you shut your mouth right now!” Diana insisted. “You can’t just loom over us like some shadow monster. Go back to your own seat.”
“There’s no one in this row and I needed to get up to stretch my long legs. There’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t loom over…” His words trailed off as he met eyes with a very stern, dagger-eyed flight attendant. She lifted an unimpressed brow, then gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head. “ Actually , on second thought, there’s plenty of room to stretch my legs in first class. See you when we land.”
He was up the aisle and gone before Anne could give him a parting word.
“Tell me why I’m on this trip again,” deadpanned a voice from directly behind Anne. Her soul flew out of her body, for a moment believing the voice was attached to some plane ghost or worse. She spun around, using the seat as a shield as she made direct, horrible eye contact with none other than Charlie Sloane. “What, did you forget I’m here too? Cole didn’t even see me. His ass was in my face the whole time.”
Diana choked on her tea, sputtering all over her hand and thermos. But she quickly composed herself, clearing her throat once, then stated seriously, “You should be so lucky to have his ass in your face.”
“ Di, ” Anne scolded in disbelief. Then, trying to look as apologetic as humanly possible—though she didn’t quite feel it—Anne offered Charlie a stiff smile. “We didn’t forget about you, Charlie. We just…thought you were asleep!”
“Uh huh.”
In truth, Anne didn’t actually care if he believed her or if his feelings were actually hurt. She’d given up on all niceties two years ago when he’d begun marathon posting articles on Facebook that were medically and scientifically incorrect. He didn’t deserve the valuable time it took for Anne to politely correct some of the downright absurd claims he’d made, but she’d gone the whole nine yards—links to scientific studies, books he could read, local resources he could take advantage of, real life women he could talk to…
And what did he reply?
“Its not my fault you’re overly active brain will prevent you from having healthy babies Anne. Woman don’t know anything about there own bodies. You shouldnt believe everything u read online. ”
She’d almost killed him.
The interaction had been alarming enough that her friends made a new group chat, one without Charlie in it. He could join again, they agreed, once he got his head on straight. And if he never did…well, they’d count their losses.
But when Anne had searched her phone for the Avonlea High group chat in order to announce the Europe Trip, she’d made a terrible, terrible mistake. She clicked the wrong one—the old one—and invited “ anyone in this group chat ” to “ join her for this one in a lifetime adventure!”
Excitement and approval had flooded in, message after message, even from all corners of Tillie’s polycule and Moody, who was prone to severe travelling anxiety. Anne added a big check to her planning notebook in bright blue ink, jotting Everyone’s in! Only for one more message to appear on her screen.
[Charlie Sloane] (6:37pm)
I’m totally in!!!
Everyone almost killed her.
But it was too late. The damage was done. Diana and Anne had tried to be optimistic about it, enough that the group willingly resigned themselves to having their old friend join their pilgrimage. After all, they’d all grown up together. As long as Charlie kept his mouth shut and his opinions to himself, everything would be fine.
“You know, I stayed up late googling about France last night and I read—”
Anne cut Charlie off before he could subject her to whatever strange thing he’d found.
“Actually Chick, I’m trying to have a spoiler-free experience of France. So I can let the Parisians tell me about their own city and all that,” she rushed, turning back around.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” he argued. “And I really think it’s worth hearing! I read the water in Paris actually—”
Diana shoved an earbud in Anne’s ear and threw the volume nearly all the way up. Anne gave her best friend a grateful look and mouthed, Bless you. The bouncy pop music blaring through the headphone quieted once the chatterbox behind them finished his long winded explanation.
“You should sleep,” Diana murmured, snuggling back into Anne’s shoulder. Her brunette curls were soft underneath Anne’s chin, the familiar feeling draining out the vague awareness that she was thousands of metres in the air, soaring in a flying deathtrap.
“I want to be able to sleep when we get to the hotel,” Anne explained, opening up her latest Indigo purchase.
“We’re spending weeks in Europe, Anne. There will be plenty of time to read and sleep and do whatever introverts do to recharge on vacation. But when we land, we’re going out and experiencing La ville de l'Amour properly.”
Anne reread the opening sentence of her book one more time, trying to shake off her building intrigue. Without looking up from the ivory colored page, she cleared her throat.
“Going out where?” she said as casually as she could. Diana knew her too well to buy the disinterested facade.
“This beautiful bar called Le Syndicat. It’s a bit of a hike from the hotel, but it’ll be so worth it. Jane made us reservations back in January. Just…look for yourself!” She opened her phone, scrolling through dozens of pictures in her gallery until she found the screenshots she was looking for. Anne peered down at the small screen, brows raising as she beheld the picture. The cocktail bar was dimly lit, intimate with its low ceilings and walls of shelved liquor. Nothing like what Anne was used to in PEI.
“It’s gorgeous,” granted Anne.
“Does that mean you’ll come with us?” Diana pressed eagerly.
“It means I’ll think about it.”
With a quiet noise of satisfaction, Diana slipped her arm through Anne’s elbow and closed her eyes. The position wouldn’t stick for ten hours, not if her neck had anything to say about it. But for now, Anne let her cheek fall atop of Diana’s head and slipped her eyes closed. The hum of the music in their earphones worked its magic as the rest of the world drained away and Anne drifted off to sleep.
*
The first step into Paris felt like the first step into a new world. As Anne stood on the metro platform, she hadn’t quite grown accustomed to the way the city never slowed down. Clusters of people bustled by, all with destinations in mind, places to be. They weaved in and out of each other, passing Anne as if she wasn’t there and occasionally knocking into her suitcase or the single travel sized pack strapped firmly to her back. She clutched the suitcase’s trolley handle, counting the heads around her of the faces she knew.
Diana, Josie, Jane, and Tillie were accounted for. Cole was close by, chatting with both of Tillie’s boyfriends who’d joined the trip. Charlie was… Ah, there he was—trying to engage some poor Parisian girl in conversation with his jilted French. Anne shot Cole a pleading look, silently sending a message only he could interpret. Ever the reliable friend, he received the message with an understanding smirk. Without so much as a word of warning, Cole grabbed Charlie by the scruff of his collar and yanked him back into the group just in time for the metro to drift to a halt in front of the waiting crowds.
Then, they boarded.
A creeping sense of claustrophobia inched across Anne’s whole body as she planted herself firmly in the middle of the train by one of the handlebars. Soon, every free inch of space was filled with the bodies and bags and heat and breathing of more people than she imagined could fit. But Cole was at her back and Diana held her hand over the handlebar, a welcome reminder that she wasn’t here alone.
“So what’s the plan for the Big Reveal? Did you invite him to come meet us for drinks?” Diana asked, just loud enough for Anne to hear her over the steady chatter and white noise of the train. Anne could see her attempt at a distraction for what it was and welcomed the diversion.
“He doesn’t know I’m in Paris yet,” answered Anne. “The bar is only twenty minutes from the Sorbonne and I know he lives close by. After we drop off our luggage at the hotel, I’m going to video call him. You know, so he could see the Eiffel Tower in the background and put together where I am.”
“You’re sure he’ll be home?”
“It’s a Monday night. He never goes out on Monday nights since it’s always when he calls me.”
Diana paused, swaying a little as the metro rounded a slight curve.
“He hasn’t called you tonight though.”
It wasn’t an accusation for all Anne could tell, but there was something…suspicious or doubtful in Diana’s voice. It was the way she always sounded when she had a bad feeling she couldn’t shake. The feeling tried to spread into Anne’s chest, but the second she hesitated, she quickly put both of their minds at rest.
“He usually calls a bit earlier in his day because of the time difference,” Anne explained. “If he called, I wouldn’t have gotten it on the plane.”
Diana nodded in understanding, but Anne could still see that sinking feeling in her best friend’s big, dark eyes. Anne set her jaw and turned to the window, watching the walls of the track pass by with dizzying quickness. If Diana had her reservations about Anne’s surprise, she should’ve said so back when everything was being planned. Now they were here, underneath one of the most romantic cities in the world.
As if he could sense the rising uncertainty, Cole poked his head down by Anne’s ear and murmured, “Don’t worry, Anne. He’s going to be thrilled to see you. Why wouldn’t he be? He loves you.”
She released a nervous breath. Of course he would be happy to see her. His letters and calls all were evidence of that. As the metro raced along its tracks, she brought to mind the memory of his touch, the warmth in his eyes whenever she spoke passionately, the promise he made her when he vowed their long distance relationship would work. He would never break his promises. Why would he make them otherwise?
They had settled in their hotel within the hour. Moonlight poured in through the french doors leading out to the balcony that she, Diana, and Ruby would share in their room. The warm lamp light poured neatly over the ivory walls and cushioned pearly rug. Anne carefully unpacked all of her belongings into the dresser opposite the bed as Ruby face planted into the sumptuous bed. Her blonde hair spread out all around her, and Anne thought she heard her mumble something about it being the best place in the world.
As she freshened up, Anne tried her best to let her mind fall away to all the city had to offer. The laughter of people in the footpaths, the honking of cars as they drove by, every single light that made the capital look like it was host to a million stars. All of it welcomed her to Paris—called her out of her lofty hotel room and down to the streets where everything and everyone was alive.
Unafraid and filled with promise, Anne answered the call.
Compared to the long flight, the Uber drive to Le Syndicat seemed like a single blink. Sandwiched between Cole and Diana in the back seat of the car, Anne felt her phone vibrate in her lap. She tilted the screen up just in time to see a banner message flash land in the centre of her screen.
[Dark and Handsome ❤] (7:22pm)
“Thinking about you, beautiful! 💕”
Anne grinned, clutching her phone against her chest. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realised she was here— in his summer-time city!
She let her friends go on ahead when they arrived at the bar, watching as they disappeared past the modern art and graffitied walls of the storefront and into the lounge. Cole waited in the doorway, watching with an attentive eye as Anne readied her phone for the video call, unwilling to let her stand alone on the street. He offered her a single thumbs up as she held her phone up to her face and readied her finger over the call button.
Before she could tap the button, a shoulder roughly collided with hers. The force of it sent Anne back onto the pavement, landing achingly hard on her behind. She managed to keep her phone clutched in one hand, but the other was scratched against the coarse surface of the sidewalk. The jerk who ran into her had managed to catch himself just in the nick of time, much to Anne’s displeasure.
“I’m so, so sorry!” he said in accented French, spinning around to her.
Anne’s entire world froze, as if some higher power had been reading the book of her crazy life and bookmarked it closed. But the feelings didn’t stop. Fear and shock churned inside her chest, with confusing amounts of affection.
“Gilbert Blythe?” she said, the name an old friend on her tongue.
He was just as stunned, yet exactly as she remembered him. His dark curls were tossed by the Paris wind, framing his forehead until the thick corners of his brows. Familiar hazel eyes gaped at her from underneath long lashes. It had only been a year since he had left their little island to learn medicine, yet he seemed so much older and wiser somehow.
“Anne?” he choked. “What—what are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same of you,” she snapped, a bit more rudely than she intended. In the doorway, Cole watched the entire disastrous scene before uttering a curse and dipping his head inside the bar.
“I go to the Sorbonne for medicine. I live here. But you don’t. You—you’re in Paris. Why are you in Paris?”
His rambling might’ve made Anne want to tease him once upon a time. But that was before she had successfully survived what was possibly the worst moment she’d ever experienced—that balmy spring day a year ago when Gilbert had sat her on an Avonlea High bench and told her he loved her. He’d been so earnest , desperate in hopes that she felt the same way he did.
But she didn’t. Not as deeply.
She might as well have taken a hammer to his heart and shattered it into a million pieces so small, they wouldn’t ever be repaired.
In retrospect, she was ashamed at how she handled it. He had praised her, listed off the endless number of qualities he adored about her, and what had she done? Behaved the way she would have if she’d just witnessed a murder, repulsed and horrified, as if his devotion was a sickly thing to be burned away. Gilbert read the message loud and clear. And he hadn’t spoken to her since.
This was likely why she never actually discovered just where Gilbert went on his great adventure outside Avonlea. Not that she cared. She’d gone to great lengths to ensure she never caught even a whisper of Gilbert Blythe and everything having to do with him. She only knew that he packed his things, left the farm in his brother’s capable hands, and left his hometown, and everyone in it, in his dust.
She never dreamed he’d be here. If she did, she would’ve crossed Paris right off the itinerary.
Yet here he was, offering his hand to help her up, staring at her like he’d watched her grow another head.
“I’m on vacation,” she replied evenly, pushing herself up. Her palm stung from her fall and she held back the urge to wipe the small beads of blood on her tight skirt. “Not just here in Paris, but all of Europe. For the summer. Our friends from Avonlea are here too.”
Gilbert blinked, the information taking a few seconds too long to settle in him. He hadn’t been in contact with any of them since high school, and clearly it had been too long.
“Where are they?”
“Inside the bar. I stayed out to make a call.”
“To tell Marilla you made it here in one piece?”
Anne frowned. She hated how well he knew her, because of course that was the very first call she made in the hotel room. She was a whole year older, matured by the challenges of attending college, and yet he could still see right through her.
“No, actually I wanted to call…” Her voice trailed off as another familiar silhouette made its way up the footpath toward the bar. At first, Anne didn’t quite believe her eyes. Surely it was someone else with the same soft, masculine frame wrapped around a man of the same height. But as the couple moved into the street light, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. The black haired boy backed his companion up against the wall, pulling off a pair of glasses from underneath straight blonde hair. As soon as the barrier of the glasses was out of the way, the dark haired man descended, capturing the lips of the man beneath him with a hunger Anne had never seen before. The longer they kissed, the more Anne thought she would throw up. Not from the display of affection, but because she knew that dark haired boy. She’d come all the way here to Paris to see him.
“Roy?” she called out, questioning and willing it not to be him .
Roy tore away from the blonde, hand still cupped underneath his sharp jaw. In the lamplight above the streets, his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, and it took him a moment to register just who was calling his name. But when he did…Anne didn’t think she had ever seen him turn so pale.
“ Shit, ” he bit out. He dropped his forehead to his…boyfriend’s? Partner’s? Night companion’s? Anne didn’t know, didn’t care. She felt her hands shaking as he pressed a kiss to the blonde’s forehead and grumbled, “Go inside and wait for me, darling.”
The blonde shot a spiteful glance at Anne, before disappearing into the painted doors.
“You’re in France,” he stated coldly. Anne clenched her fists at her sides, chewing the inside of her lip.
“Yes, I think we’ve established that I’m in France.”
Beside her, Gilbert shifted uncomfortably. His face told her he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than at 51 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis, but Anne knew he wouldn’t leave her. Not when she might need him. After all, they were best friends once.
“Gilbert, this is Royal Gardner. My boyfriend,” she spat. “Roy, this is an old friend of mine from Avonlea, Gilbert Blythe.”
“We go to the same school,” Roy said dumbly.
“I go to the Sorbonne ,” replied Gilbert, tone as sharp as knives. “You’re just an intern.”
Roy shifted on his feet, stuffing his hands into his stupid, fancy leather jacket. Anne let the silence ring out, giving Roy an ample amount of seconds to even try to explain himself. But as his eyes darted along the cracks of the footpath, Anne realised he didn’t intend to.
“Well?” she demanded.
Roy sighed.
“ He’s my boyfriend, Anne! I’m not…I didn’t mean to be yours. It just sorta happened,” he exclaimed finally.
“That’s so interesting because I could’ve sworn you were the one who insisted on staying long distance over the summer so you ‘wouldn’t have to live without me.’ It was you that called me every Monday at 3PM my time, even if I was busy, and texted me fifteen minutes ago that you were thinking of me! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Shaking his head, Roy shrugged his shoulders. Gilbert’s jaw twitched.
“How long?” she demanded.
Roy licked his lips, probably hoping he could press them together and never have to speak another word to her again. A car honked as it passed, but Anne’s glare on Roy would not budge.
“Since before I met you at Redmond,” he confessed. Anne let out a strangled cry, so Roy charged on. “But then I met you there and you seemed to like me so much and I’d never met anyone quite as smart as you. Chris was fine with me seeing you while I was in Canada so I just…”
“Lied to me for almost a year and decided to never tell me I was just your amusement. You know, I came here to surprise you! ”
He couldn’t even argue with that. For all the pretty words he’d spoken before, he’d finally run out.
“Sorry, Anne,” was all he could say. Anne found herself questioning whether or not he really was sorry. The word seemed empty. Her name, devoid of meaning.
Anne blinked furiously. She wouldn’t cry. Not here in front of him. Not when her friends were inside, waiting for her to make a grand entrance with her secret boyfriend. Maybe she’d delete all the pictures of him off her phone and block him off of all social media the second she sat down, but she would. not. cry.
“Is this why you suggested keeping our relationship a secret?” she asked quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You made it sound so exciting, like it was healthy for a relationship to get to have that time ‘just for us.’ But there was another reason, wasn’t there?”
Roy shifted again and it made Anne want to kick his knees.
“Josie knows Chris,” he explained shortly. “They’re cousins, once or twice removed.”
“Josie knows—” Anne broke off with a disbelieving laugh. “So if I had accidentally let it slip that I was seeing you, I would’ve had to find out from Josie Pye that you were cheating on me?” She swallowed a deep breath, hoping it would soothe her rage enough to keep back those angry tears.
“I’m sorry, Anne,” he repeated. She wished that he would stop saying that.
Then one thick tear did trickle down the side of her cheek, dropping onto the footpath at her feet.
“Don’t mention this to anyone ,” she seethed. “At least allow me that much dignity.”
“Of course,” Roy stammered. Anne nodded to the bar.
“I’m going in there, I’m going to have a very nice start to my summer vacation, and I’m not going to think about you or any of this until…maybe never. And just so we’re clear, you and I are done.”
“Okay,” Roy nodded.
“And you are going to go in there, have a nice evening with your boyfriend , ignore me and my friends, and pretend you don’t know us.”
“Okay.”
“And you,” she said harshly to Gilbert. He flinched, but lifted a brow. Something in his expression was just what she needed to soothe the corrosive edges of her anger. Her voice was gentle as she said, “Go in with me, please?”
“Always,” he swore. He took Anne’s elbow, guiding her into the bar and away from the source of her devastation. He gently took her hand and held it up so he could look at it. “Looks like the blood clotted nicely. You should still wash it when we get inside. Does it still hurt?”
Anne shook her head, tugging her hand back to her side. She was grateful that he didn’t comment on what he had just witnessed. She almost couldn’t bear it—to feel his kindness after how they left things and what he’d just seen. But what she couldn’t bear more was the dread of him leaving her side without that kindness. If he was offering it, she’d accept it. Just for now. Just this once.
“I could just take you back to your hotel if you’d rather not go in there,” he offered.
Anne shook her head again, swallowing thickly. She’d have to face this eventually. With any luck, it would be easier than she expected. Get in, announce there was no mystery boyfriend, drink deliciously fancy drinks until the ache numbed a bit. As for what she’d do about Gilbert…well, she’d decide when she had to.
Le Syndicat looked exactly as the Instagram pictures promised it would, but even her foggy mind cleared for the enchanting aroma. It was spicy and sweet, with hints of floral alcohol and fruit juice. If she could get her hands on a drink that tasted the way the place smelled, she’d be off to a great start.
“Oh, I knew it ,” a familiar voice announced across the room. Anne’s head snapped up, discovering all her friends staring at her, jaws dropped onto the hardwood floor. She might’ve stood there, paralysed by the inevitable declaration she’d have to make, but Gilbert tugged on her arm and urged her forward. She met Chris’ eyes as she passed him, but he simply pulled his long blonde hair back into a bun and ignored her.
“Hey guys,” Anne managed to say as she approached the table. “Sorry that took so long.”
“Not at all,” Tillie said, clearly interested in the person she entered the room with. Anne pushed some of her copper hair behind her ear and took a steadying breath.
“I brought Gilbert,” she said.
Cole and Diana exchanged a perplexed glance. Might as well rip off the band-aid , Anne thought. No sense in dragging it out.
“You all know how I was really excited to introduce you to my boyfriend?”
“You mean the guy you wouldn’t shut up about for the last ten months?” Jane cut in.
“The one you threw the big fuss over on the plane?” tacked Josie.
“Guys,” Diana scolded. “Knock it off.”
“The one you admitted was tragically handsome when he was about to cry?” Ruby said.
“That was Tillie who said that, not me.”
“But she was talking about your secret boyfriend.”
“Yes,” Anne gritted out. Her fingers found the short edge of her skirt and clutched the hem. “It’s only fair that after all the melodrama that went into keeping that secret, I..tell you all the truth. I’m not super excited to say this, but my boyfriend—”
“It’s me,” Gilbert cut in suddenly. “I’m Anne’s boyfriend.”