Giselle
windows with a forlorn cry while the wind blew hard, living up to the promise of final foggy February days. From the couch, Giselle's legs stretched across the cushions comfortably. A fuzzy blanket rested on her shoulders, inspiring a drowsy heaviness spinning around her head.
The warmth from the blanket and the electric fireplace heater she plugged into the nearby corner covered the room from wall to wall in heat. The damp weather couldn't break into her little cozy bubble for a quiet read.
Giselle splayed a book across her lap, fingers tucked into the page as a makeshift bookmark. Magic realism wasn't her usual genre, but Jude recommended the book. She scoured her local library high and low to find the book, taking longer than expected with the computers under maintenance.
She stretched, greeted by a chorus of pops from her bones. After she had spent all morning on the couch, her cozy set-up felt too good to leave, even with the laundry list of chores she needed to get done. Besides, who would realistically call her out?
Not her parents; a lecture about her rest day required them to be around, and she hadn't seen much of them in a while. Normally, their 9-to-5 jobs and packed social life with people Giselle never met kept them out of the house, but her path would cross with theirs occasionally. Things changed, but Giselle didn’t need them to hold her hand.
She'd been alone for far longer than she realized, specifically after seeing James again and their less-than-productive talk. Clarity came to her, arms wide open, and Giselle sank into its embrace. James was never the one, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself he was the right fit.
She never knew what unconditional love looked like, not from her parents. So, she followed his lead and accepted his attention as enough for her. Maybe in due time, she would consider her past misgivings as the deluded hopes of a lovestruck girl blinded by her desire to be wanted. But, for the moment, all she felt was shame.
How did she let herself spend so long chained to James' side?
She became like a puppy, following him with unswerving loyalty he never earned beyond saying all the magical words to make her fall hard. She had been too easy to impress.
Giselle shifted in her seat and turned toward the window, dotted with rivulets of rain streaming down. The hours could trickle on, and she'd let time pass her by, counting its movements in the turn of a page.
Her eyes wandered over to the flower bed where Carrot planted himself for her attention when he lived outside. Weirdly enough, she hadn't seen him since that morning, but maybe he hid from the rain somewhere cozier than her living room blanket fort.
Giselle scooted onto the couch, knees tucking into her chest when a distant clap of thunder rattled against the walls. A tiny flicker in the lights sent a fervent chill up her arms, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She paused, waiting for another cry from the skies.
Instead, a sharp thumping against her front door responded to her bated breath. At first, the wind jumped into Giselle's mind as a suspect until the thumping continued with insistence, almost rhythmic and varied.
Someone was at her door? In this weather?
Setting her book aside with an actual bookmark, Giselle sprung from the couch. She tightened the fuzzy shawl around her shoulders like she wasn't swamped under a long-sleeve and thermal top already. Her sock-clad feet raced across the house and skidded to a stop at the door.
She lifted onto her toes, squinting through the peephole. She spotted an orange blur, brown hair, and a dark turtleneck on her porch, but she knew who waited for her on the other side of the warped, damp glass.
Giselle threw open the door and faced a soaked Jude, who shivered. In his arms, a nice coat swaddled the soaked Carrot to his whining mewls, less damp than poor Jude.
"Oh my goodness," Giselle yelped and yanked Jude inside by the sleeve of his turtleneck, confronted with the drenched fabric gushing cold rainwater into her sleeve. She slammed the door shut, fighting against the wind blowing inside her sanctuary. "What happened to you?"
"Hello to you, too," Jude tried to joke, but a shiver cut him short. Teeth chattering pierced Giselle to the bone when she ran her hands over his face. His skin blistered with frigid coldness.
"You're freezing. We'll get you two warmed up right away."
"Thank you. I was ill-prepared to be caught in a storm, but life has a sense of humor, right?"
"Tell me everything. I didn't realize you were in the neighborhood," Giselle whispered, running her hand from Jude's face to stroke the damp head of Carrot. She hadn't even realized he snuck out, let alone knew how he escaped into a storm.
"It wasn't intentional, I swear. My parents are having a fancy lunch at their house for some of my dad's work colleagues, and my mom asked me to be there. So, I drove down from the city," Jude remarked, but his voice dripped wryly like his waterlogged clothes. "Except I didn't expect a storm or that one of my front tires would get punctured en route."
"No! Is your car still out there? Do you need to call a tow truck?" Giselle guided him further into the house. A heavy puddle followed his movements, but Giselle could clean up later. It was only water.
"It's still out there, yeah. I hit something on the main road—whatever punctured the tire—and noticed how close I was to your house. I had enough air to carry me about two blocks away before the tire deflated."
"It'll be safe there?"
"For now. It's on another residential street. . . Hayward Drive. I locked the car behind me before leaving. Since I forgot my umbrella back home, I jogged here, which is where I found this little guy."
Jude lifted Carrot up, still swaddled in Jude's coat, who sounded off with the odd cross between a purr and a meow. Giselle rubbed her little guy's ears, cold to the touch, and frowned.
She shook her head. "I didn't realize he got out. He must've wiggled through the door when I checked my garden before the storm rolled in."
"Likely," Jude sighed. "I spotted him in your neighbor's bushes, stuck between the fence and the prickly parts of the hedge. He couldn't get out on his own, and it took me a while to get him unstuck. That's why we're both soaked."
He croaked out a laugh, but it devolved into a hacking cough. Giselle accepted Carrot from Jude's arms and rubbed him with the coat.
"Thank you for rescuing him. I would've helped if I knew you were out there." Giselle frowned while Carrot dug out of her arms, leaping for the freedom of the warm living room. He shook out his body and trotted straight for the electric fireplace.
"No need to thank me, Giselle. How are you doing?"
"Good. But let's focus on you. How about I grab you a warm towel, a blanket, and a hot shower if you want it? I'll take your clothes and put them in the dryer. Would you like some tea to warm up?”
"That sounds. . . so good." Jude sighed, head tipped slightly back and his throat bobbing with evident relief.
Giselle nodded and took off, sprinting for the laundry room down the hallway. The cramped space barely fit her as she peered into the cabinets, grabbing a fresh towel and a folded blanket reserved for overnight guests.
She flipped open the dryer's hatch, yanking the last load of laundry she had done into a small basket. She could fold them later.
Giselle rushed back, arms burdened by the heavy fabric of the blanket, and she lowered it enough to speak. Yet, no words came out as she slid into the living room and stared at the vast, slightly freckled expanse of Jude's bare back.
His arms flexed when he folded his damp shirt over his wrist, movement rippling through his toned shoulders and back. Years of tennis left their mark on his figure's toned, lean definition, not overly muscular but undoubtedly fit.
For a shining moment, Giselle struggled to find her breath anywhere in the vicinity. Instead, the tender caress of heat walked along the length of her inner thigh, dipping hard enough to pull her stomach into a freefall when Jude's shoulders flexed.
Her thighs squeezed hard, clamping shut, but her eyes latched onto every subtle movement from Jude's body, who was none the wiser about Giselle gawking behind him. Even during high school, Jude had always been attractive, but how long had Giselle overlooked his staggering beauty?
The bare expanse of his skin enticed her greedy eyes, offering her a silent show. Giselle should have looked away and carried herself with more manners, but common sense walked headfirst into the rain. The simple act of Jude's skin being revealed to her turned her stomach into a mess.
Something in her brain awakened, and all she could envision was hunger.
The mindless static stuffing Giselle's head lessened enough for her to remember how words worked. However, the narrow window of opportunity vanished the second she heard the clatter of a belt. Jude grunted and unceremoniously dropped his soaked trousers to the floor, stripping down to nothing but his mostly dry boxer briefs.
A sharp stinging preceded the metallic taste sliding across her tongue when Giselle swept her gaze down Jude's back. She drew blood from biting so hard, but she forgot about the pain. Like his arms, Jude's legs sported a more muscular definition consistent with years of athleticism.
The sight of Jude nearly naked reduced her brain to utter mush. She averted her eyes, forcing her face away with an almost neck-breaking turn.
Giselle cleared her throat loudly, begging the universe not to let Jude see her scathing blush. "A towel for you and a blanket. Have you decided about the shower?"
"I'll be alright. Thank you." Jude stepped out of his trousers, socks, and shoes, all discarded at his feet. Giselle and he swapped and spun away from one another.
Giselle rushed to the laundry room again, tossing Jude's soaked clothes into the dryer. Even after the rain, the faint traces of his laundry detergent and the worn leather of bound books jumped off the fabric.
Shaking hands shut the dryer, starting the cycle with a few buttons and the groaning rumbles from the machine. Giselle wandered to the living room, spotting Jude on the couch with the blanket curled around him.
"Would you like that tea now or later?" Giselle asked.
"Later," Jude's eyes fluttered open, and his face regained some color lost in the cold. He tipped his head toward the borrowed book, offering a toothy smile. "How are you finding the book?"
The blanket he pulled over himself slipped off the shoulder closest to Giselle, revealing his bare collarbone and a touch of his chest, equally toned as his back. Jude didn't move to fix it, nor did Giselle point out the obvious.
She climbed back into her spot on the couch, scooping the book off the table,
"I'm a slow reader, but it's enjoyable so far. Thank you for the recommendation."
He nodded in return before saying, “The main character reminds me of you, so I hoped you'd connect to the story."
"That's. . . really sweet."
Jude exhaled, closing his eyes again while he soaked in the warmth. Giselle shifted her position on the couch, her body parallel to Jude's, and added another blanket over his shoulders.
She cracked open the book and sank back into the cushions, knees tucked to her chest with the spine resting on her kneecaps. The soft-spoken crackling from the electric fireplace tied the room's atmosphere together, blending seamlessly into raindrops pattering on the roof.
She and Jude existed in the same space, sitting parallel on the edge of their couch cushion. Giselle focused on the story while the warmth lapped against her skin, unaware of the thinning pull between her and Jude.
Slowly, the cushion dipped under her weight and slid inward to the crevice separating her and Jude. Giselle reached her hand blindly to pop herself back up but pressed into the crevice, wobbling, and sliding right into him.
"Woah there," Jude's hands snagged her waist before she fell into his lap and held her up. "If you wanted to cuddle, all you needed to do was ask."
Giselle's cheeks puffed in embarrassment. "I slipped. . . but cuddling? If you needed me to warm you up, all you needed to do was ask."
Flipping the script pulled a bemused blink from Jude, yet he adjusted with a smile, and his arm stayed around her waist. He sighed, "You've caught me. I wanted to cuddle for warmth."
Giselle giggled with him, finding their bodies slipping into the dip. Their hips knocked together like a game of bumper cars, except with Giselle's heart spinning out to the sidelines.
Her chest squeezed, prompting her to gaze up at Jude, and she found his eyes already fixated on her. His arm's low, casual grip around her waist held her closer to him, but the quiet fire in Jude's eyes dragged her in.
“Jude?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think about how things would be different if we hadn’t hatched up this fake dating scheme?”
“No, because I wouldn’t want to live in a world where we never reconnected. And I don’t care what happens when we stop faking it. I’m not letting you go. Never again.”
Quietly, his gaze inspired the core of the heat to shift from their linked eyes and drop into her lap. The earlier heat blossomed between her thighs with a renewed fury, and Giselle knew.
Jude promised her she would be okay without James; he was right. Who cared about Jameson Calloway when Jude Beauregard looked at her like she was the sun?
Giselle reached forward, eyes still holding onto Jude's, and cupped his face between her hands. Warm fingers brushed against the still-cold skin and tipped his jaw down slightly more, sparking the heat into something uncontainable.
But the buzz of a nearby phone interjected, breaking the moment into smithereens. Giselle's hands slipped from his face and dropped to her lap as he awkwardly fumbled for his phone, stuck in his coat pocket slung over the back of the couch.
He checked the phone, face cast in a glow. "Uh, the tow truck company gave me an ETA. They won't be here for a while. Hopefully, my clothes will be dry when they show up."
"If the storm hasn't cleared by then, you can borrow one of my umbrellas." Giselle pointed toward a small bucket with upside-down umbrellas jutting out from the rim by the front door. "But you'll have to come back tonight to return it. . . and maybe stay for dinner? If my parents are home, you’ll get to meet them."
"Sounds like a deal," Jude whispered. Giselle smiled, covering the anxiety sitting on her chest. Her parents would need to show up for once.
After waiting an hour, Jude left when the tow truck arrived and rushed off to see his parents. But his promise to return that evening held Giselle through the hours in between.
She busied herself with reading the book and drifting between the couch and the kitchen. Preparing dinner kept her busy while waiting for Jude to return.
Somewhere between the aroma of buttered dinner rolls and the clutter of the utensils spread across the countertop, a knock against the door brought her running out of the kitchen with a fluttering apron and her hair falling out of her ponytail.
She yanked open the door, finding a dry, smiling Jude on the other side. As promised, he carried her umbrella in his hand and cradled an expensive-looking bottle of wine in the other.
"Welcome back," Giselle waved him into the house and pushed the door shut behind her, leaning against it. "Is that wine?"
"I know you're not a big drinker, but my parents insisted I bring it for your parents. Something about making a good impression, so a nice bottle of wine should do the trick? At least, that's what my dad suggested." Jude handed the wine to her.
"Well, your dad is a smart man. They like red. . . which I think this is."
"It is. Lucky guess?"
"Very lucky. The roasted chicken should be ready any moment now, and everything else needs to be plated." Giselle tucked the bottle underneath her armpit, scuttling back to the kitchen.
She set the wine on the counter, grabbed her mitts, and prepared to rescue the chicken from the oven. However, Jude's appearance at the edge of the kitchen startled a small yelp out of her.
"Allow me to handle the plates then." Jude clicked his tongue and grabbed the plates off the counter. He winked before sliding over to the table and setting the plates down for each chair. "So, are your parents here or coming back soon?"
"They're here. In their room. But they promised to be out momentarily," Giselle whispered, rooted to her spot as she watched Jude reach for the silverware on the counter.
He moved around her kitchen effortlessly, and the sight punctured through the anxiety on her chest. Jude knew all the right things to diffuse the problem and all the right things to say to soothe the parts that ached.
Her worst mistake was losing out on seeing him become the man she knew.
"So, should I be nervous meeting them? Anything I need to know or worry about?"
"I wouldn't say you have anything to be nervous about. My parents are busy with work and other stuff, so they aren’t around all that much. But otherwise, they’re painfully average, so unless you're afraid of normalcy."
"Oh, how'd you know I was allergic to normal people?" Jude snorted as he spun around for the napkins.
Giselle shook her head. "You say as if I'm not the epitome of an average girl." She remarked with her body mid-way in the oven. She lifted the tray of chicken, inhaling the rosemary and sweet juice collected at the bottom of the pan.
"You're nowhere close to average," Jude corrected and leaned against the counter, offering her a smile. "You, Giselle Courtland, are simply extraordinary."
The response on Giselle's mind vanished at the sound of approaching footsteps, seeing how Jude stood taller and brushed off his coat. He tucked his hands behind his back when her parents entered into view.
Her dad's brow crinkled. "Oh. I wasn't aware we had a guest."
"Dad, I told you that my boyfriend would be joining us," Giselle said, unable to hide the twinge of disappointment from her tone. She forced the bitter taste down and reached for Jude's hand. "I'd like you to meet Jude. Jude, these are my parents."
"It's lovely to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Courtland." Jude stepped forward with his hand outstretched toward them.
Yet, neither of her parents rushed to take his hand. They stared at Jude, her mom being the first to accept his handshake but letting go fast. The grimace twisting her features turned into a knife shoved into Giselle's chest, leaving hurt to blossom from the wound.
Giselle's dad reached out and wordlessly shook Jude's hand, too. Jude's face never changed from a polite disposition.
“Are we ready to sit down and eat? I’m interested in hearing more about you two. Giselle hasn’t shared much about what you do,” Jude said, catching Giselle’s eyes. The confusion shone clear as day, and Giselle regretted everything as the excuses started.
“Dinner looks nice.” Her dad coughed awkwardly. “But we wouldn’t want to interrupt.”
“It’s not. This dinner was specifically for you two to learn more about Jude and meet him. Most parents would want to know who their daughter is seeing.”
“Honey, we already made other plans, and it would be rude to cancel-”
“What other plans?” Giselle questioned. “I told you about dinner as soon as you came home an hour ago, and you didn’t have plans then. What could’ve possibly come up that you’re canceling on me at the last minute?”
No answer would make it right. But at least if they had something, Giselle could wrap her head around what her parents considered more important than showing up for her.
She stared at them expectantly. Her parents didn’t look at her or each other, finding everything else in the kitchen more interesting. However, Giselle couldn't slow the heated rush climbing up her throat until it spewed out.
"What's wrong with you two?" she hissed, drawing everyone's attention to her.
"Giselle, please." Her mom clasped her hands together, undermined by shifty eyes. "There's no need to be upset."
"Why won't you two even pretend to put in the effort? Jude and I have been together for months, and you refuse to meet him. You two were never around to learn about him. What’s worse is that with what little time we share together is dominated by you two avoiding me. It feels less like living with my parents and more like cohabiting with virtual strangers."
Jude's hands clamping down on her shoulders jolted warmth into her body, drowning out the painful ache from her parents' behavior. She glanced at him, seeing the hardened expression in his eyes.
"Giselle, do you want me to go?”
“No. Stay. I’m tired of covering up for my parents’ lack of interest in my life for people. I’m so tired of putting on a smile and pretending that they care about me.”
Her mom shook her head. “You’re wrong. We’ve just been busy with our lives.”
“Busy with what? Maybe if you told me anything, then I’d understand. When’s the last time we’ve had an actual conversation that wasn’t a few words in passing about how busy you are? When’s the last time you asked me how I’ve been?” Giselle snapped. She plucked every thought she buried deep down and waved it in the air, brandishing it into a weapon formed against the pain.
Her mom and dad glanced at one another, saying nothing. The silence told her everything she needed to know. An apology could’ve sufficed and smoothed everything over, but they insisted on standing in the right. But, for once, Giselle wouldn’t validate them with acceptance.
Giselle curled into Jude’s arms, finding comfort in their warmth. "You haven't treated me like family, holding me at arm's distance for years. You left me alone when I needed my parents. So, I hope you're happy. . . because this is the last time I try to reconnect."
She watched her parents' faces flash, drained of the color in them, until her mom warbled, "You don't mean that."
"I mean it," Giselle shook her head. "As much as I don't want to leave my garden behind, I'll look into apartments I can rent. If nothing's available, I'll pay the rent here, but you should drop any pretense of caring. I'm not your daughter, but a tenet who will pay on time and contribute to the communal care of the house. That's it."
"You and Carrot always have a place with me," Jude dropped his voice so her parents couldn't hear him. Giselle's heart screamed to accept, but she couldn't. She shouldn't, not after James taught her better than relying on someone else's sweet promises.
Giselle's throat bobbed, but she met her parents' eyes. "You two can have dinner. Jude and I will find somewhere else to go. See you when I see you."
She grasped Jude's hand, and his warm touch became her lifeline in her darkest hour. She knew when she overstayed her welcome. Even though her parents might backpedal, she deserved better than that.
She deserved so much better on a lot of fronts, didn't she?