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Chapter Text

He needed class to be over, for the teacher to stop talking, and for them to be dismissed for the day. Shaking his legs nervously, he eyed the clock and sighed. 

7 minutes late.

When he finally heard the words “class dismissed,” Emmanuel was the first person out the door. As he ran through the crowded hallways, all he could think about was her—finding her, hugging her, and kissing her. 

Her

Earlier in the week, his girlfriend, Brigitte, accepted his campus tour invitation. She was excited (and nervous) to meet his friends, but he kept ensuring her everything would be fine.

His stomach dropped when he rounded the corner and saw her laughing with his buddies. Emmanuel had been trying to work on his jealousy, but seeing her surrounded by three guys made him see red. The way one of them kept touching her bare arm sent him across the room and straight into their little circle, elbowing his way to his girl.

He ferociously kissed her on the lips, and she reciprocated, making no mistake who she belonged to.

“Emmanuel, why didn’t you tell us your girlfriend is the best?” His friend Paul commented sincerely. “Where have you been hiding this gorgeous babe?”

Another friend chuckled, “We weren’t even sure she existed! But damn... You're one lucky son of a bitch, Macron! Teach us your ways!”

With a curious smile, Brigitte pulled away from Emmanuel’s tight (almost painful) grip. “Is it because he never talks about me?”

The friend quickly corrected his statement, “No! It’s because he said his partner was a beautiful blonde with legs for days, and there’s no way Emmanuel could ever have pulled a woman like that. But here you are - in the flesh!”

As the men stared hungrily at her exposed legs, ogling her thighs like desperate, sex-deprived creatures, Emmanuel almost lost his cool when Brigitte did nothing to stop them. Why did she wear THAT dress today? Of ALL days? 

Bernard, the sarcastic man Emmanuel shared most of his classes with, wanted his turn to speak. “Brigittie, sweetheart, you can do so much better than our buddy over here.”

With a polite wave of her hand, she finally addressed the situation. “I’m not interested in anyone else - now or ever. I happen to be quite fond of your buddy.”

"Yeah...but why?" 

Emmanuel had seen and heard enough. He intertwined his fingers with hers and dragged her to the dormitory, forgoing the campus tour he had promised. Brigitte did all she could—but failed miserably—to keep up with him in her four-inch heels.

Slamming the door of his private room, Brigitte jumped when she felt his hand forcefully nudge her out of the way. He did not speak as he stormed off to the kitchen, leaving her confused and anxious by his erratic behaviour. Grabbing a drink for himself, he cracked open the can of beer, took a swig, and impolitely wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“If you're going to pretend like I don't exist, should I just leave now?” Brigitte asked defensively, not in the mood for his childish games. When she lifted her bag off the table, he grabbed her possessively. 

“Are you off to talk to more college guys?” He spat, regretting his tone immediately when he heard it himself.

Throwing her head back, she sighed dramatically. “Is this the reason for your piss-poor attitude? Because I was talking to your friends!?”

“You weren’t simply talking to them. I saw the way you were flirting!” Emmanuel argued. She knew firsthand that he was a jealous and clingy boyfriend, so he couldn’t fathom why she would continue with his friends, knowing how much it bothered him. 

Had it been deliberate? Was she keeping her options open? Could she possibly be interested in one of them?  

“Flirting?!” Brigitte gasped, “You call that flirting?! I didn’t realize I had my chest pressed against their firm bodies.” She demonstrated the action on him, rubbing her breasts across his chest until her nipples hardened and strained against the cotton of her dress. “I must have been in a daze when I grabbed their manhood.” Again, she performed the action, cupping his erection through his pants.

He hissed when her hand gripped him possessively, growing harder as she stroked him over the denim. “I must have been unaware of my actions while conversing with your friends. This is what you think you witnessed, am I right?”

“You have proven your point,” Emmanuel replied, stopping the simulation by holding onto her wrist, painfully aware he would come in his pants if he didn’t end this little charade.

Locking eyes with his, she toyed with the question, “Do you still want me to leave? Perhaps a single college guy will let me bunk with him for the weekend.”

There was a fire burning in his eyes, an animalistic expression he got when he was horny and in desperate need of release. “I want you to prove that I’m the only man you want.”

Quickly removing his pants and boxers, Brigitte sank to her knees, kissing the swollen tip before taking him in her warm mouth. After a few playful licks, she relaxed her jaw until he was hitting the back of her throat. If this didn't convince him of her love, she didn't know what would. 

Emmanuel hadn’t planned for their weekend to start this way. A campus tour and a romantic dinner for two had been on the agenda—not this, at least not yet. But as he watched her in action, happily swallowing everything he had to offer, he concluded that this was a great way to spend a Friday night.

Chapter Text

He had been in a foul mood since he woke up, and as the day progressed, things only got worse. For the first time in their relationship, he even withheld a morning kiss, which he looked forward to every time he watched her stir awake in the early hours of the day.

Brigitte had asked him numerous times what his problem was, but he could never provide a reasonable explanation.

She had wanted to cancel the Sunday lunch with her children, knowing that Emmanuel would be no better (or even worse) in the presence of others, but he kept telling her he wanted to see everyone. Therefore, she agreed to bring him along—against her better judgment. 

Stepping out of the shower, Brigitte immediately wrapped a towel around her shivering body and announced, “I’ll be blow-drying my hair if you need me.”

“K,” he responded, his nose buried deep in the pages of his new book.

On a typical day, Emmanuel would have jumped at the opportunity to shower with his new wife, often being the one to initiate sexual activities under the hot, steamy water, but things were different today. Instead, he remained seated on the couch with a soured expression and an equally shitty attitude. 

Once Brigitte had finished getting ready in the bathroom, wearing her new black jeans and freshly ironed white t-shirt, she hoped her husband would be in a better mood. 

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she apologized, having spent a little more time on her hair than planned.

Without looking up from his novel, he mumbled some harsh but inaudible words under his breath.

“What did you say?” She asked, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

With sarcasm and anger, he replied, “I’m used to waiting for you.”

“Oh, come on, I couldn't have been more than 35 minutes,” Brigitte defended. “This hairstyle doesn’t happen in 5 minutes, Emmanuel! I can’t even dry my hair that fast.”

“I’m not referring to just this afternoon!” He snapped. “I’m always waiting for you!”

“When?” she asked, contemplating cancelling the afternoon with her children. She was no longer in the mood to be in the same room as her husband. Emmanuel wanted to start a fight, but she refused to play along and swoop to his level.

“When? I had to wait to date you, wait for our first overnight visit, wait to have sex with you, wait to marry you. Do I need to continue, or do you see my point?” He snapped, tossing the book across the couch.

“Wasn’t I worth the wait? Where is this even coming from? You’ve never complained about waiting before. I assumed you understood why I refused to rush into another relationship! I had everything to lose - and I did pay the price! I'm sorry for not jumping into bed with you the first time you asked!!” Brigitte yelled before shuffling through her purse for the car keys. 

“Where are you going?” Emmanuel asked, storming across the living room in a heated rage.

“I am driving to Laurence’s house - alone!”

Brigitte shouted, slamming the door on her way out without so much as a kiss goodbye.

—-

As the family sat down to a homemade lunch of chicken and pasta salad, a persistent knock on the front door interrupted them.

“Do you think it’s Manu?” Tiphaine asked, having been filled in on the fight by her mother. Brigitte hated telling them about the turmoil in her relationship because - unlike most couples - their fights were so far and few between. However, she needed to explain their stepfather’s unique absence.

“Don’t answer it, and maybe he’ll leave,” Brigitte replied, not wanting her husband to ruin the family's peaceful afternoon.

“Maman, we can’t leave him outside in the rain! That's cruel.” Laurence sighed, gaining a conscience. She would always take her mom's side but couldn't stand knowing he was outside. 

A much different Emmanuel had gratefully burst through the threshold carrying three elaborate bouquets of pink roses. He was greeted cheerfully by the couple’s three children and their partners; however, Brigitte remained seated at the dining room table, not caring to see her husband.

“Hello, Chérie,” he smiled shyly, placing an enormous bouquet in her arms and kissing her cheek. “These are for you.”

“Suddenly, you think I will forgive your behaviour? Why did you even come to Laurence's house?” Brigitte rolled her eyes. "I specifically asked you not to follow me." 

Politely excusing the both of them, Emmanuel dragged his wife to the nearest bedroom and pulled her onto his lap.

“I’m very sorry for my attitude today. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and I apologize.”

“That’s no excuse for what you said to me! If you had a problem waiting for me, why didn’t you just find someone else? You could have found a hundred other girls—younger girls—willing to marry you—girls without baggage and a complicated backstory!”

Cupping her chin, he smirked, “Because you have always been the only woman for me. I love you and never should have said what I said earlier because I didn’t mean it! I have no idea what got into me this morning. Call me exhausted or a jerk, but I feel better now. I can't stand hurting you, and I am well aware that my careless words caused you pain. Please, please forgive me. You're my best friend, and I need you desperately.”

Brigitte did everything she could not to melt from his sincere words, not wanting to allow herself to be hurt any deeper. (Unfortunately, her heart belonged to this incredibly stubborn but loving man.) Besides, his moody disposition was hardly a pattern. He deserved a pass.

“Let’s see how the rest of the afternoon goes, and then I’ll tell you if I forgive you,” Brigitte exclaimed, not letting him off the hook just yet. "Right now, I do not like you very much." 

For the rest of the day, Emmanuel tried everything he could to win her over. Fortunately, she played the game well, giving him a taste of his own medicine until he begged on his knees for her to love him again. 

Chapter Text

“I’ve never seen him like this!”

“This has to be a first.”

“Only one person could defuse this ticking time bomb.”

“So, what the hell are we waiting for? Call her!”

These were the murmurings of his staffers, quietly whispering amongst themselves as Emmanuel Macron tore his office apart in a fit of anger. He was frantically searching for a specific file after his meeting had gone horribly awry, mad at himself for misplacing something so vital during a crisis.

“Madame Macron isn’t answering!”

“Shit! There goes our plan! What the hell are we supposed to do now?”

“Keep calling!! Dammit! Hit the redial button until our thumbs turn black and blue!”

The aides were bickering back and forth when they heard Emmanuel slam something on his desk, cursing as a piece of glass smashed loudly in the background.

“Sir, is everything alright?” the man asked, knowing it was a ridiculous question. Of course, their boss wasn’t alright. His office looked like a crime scene, missing only one thing—blood.

Emmanuel tossed his iPhone on the adjacent couch and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “My meeting was shit, and now my wife won’t answer her phone!”

“We know, Sir…She...she must be busy,” the words came stumbling out of the aide’s mouth. He instantly regretted his phrase, worried how the President might react upon hearing they had attempted to phone the Big Boss.

“You know how?” Emmanuel asked, wary of how this aide knew that. “You called my wife? Why?”

Slowly backing toward the door for a quick exit, he told the President they had attempted to call Madame Macron, hoping she could calm his rage.

After barely stringing together a coherent sentence of curse words aimed at no one in particular, Emmanuel demanded that they stop calling her. “She’s my wife; I’ll get a hold of her on my own! You fools were probably trying her line the same time I was!”

He continued to dial her number, sighing every time he was rudely (but not deliberately) sent to voicemail.

Her husband needed her, and Brigitte didn’t even have the decency to text him back. Emmanuel was desperate when he dialled her security detail, hoping that one of those competent men could provide a detailed update on his wife. All Emmanuel needed was to hear her voice. She was his drug, and he needed her. He hated when she did this, and it only made his shitty day that much worse when he felt ignored by the one person he craved. 

Unfortunately, his idea to call her team turned out to be useless. By the 7th unanswered ring, Emmanuel angrily tossed his cell phone, not caring if it shattered across the hard surface of the desk, before slamming the office door shut. He wasn’t going to give his aides a free show.

When his phone finally began to ring, he jumped on it, spilling his lukewarm coffee in the process.

“Brigitte!!!!!” He yelled enthusiastically. 

“Emmanuel, I saw 20 missed calls from you! What’s wrong?” Brigitte asked in a panic. "Did something happen? Fabian said you tried calling him. You knew I was busy today and wouldn't be reachable until lunchtime.”

He explained that he had a horrible meeting and needed to hear her voice. Emmanuel felt at ease immediately when she made him smile with her kind and encouraging words. After their quick catch-up, Emmanuel came out of his office, beaming and bouncing on his toes like a rejuvenated man.

One aide nudged the other, and with a laugh, he said: “I guess Madame Macron finally answered her phone.” 

Chapter Text

“Emmanuel!” Brigitte yelled across the apartment, “Where do you keep your extra bed sheets?”

“In the back of my closet!” He replied with a mouthful of toothpaste.

They had eaten a romantic dinner in bed, and while it was fun, they had spilled some pasta sauce on his sheets. Not wanting to sleep on dirty linen, she set out to find clean, freshly washed sheets.

Brigitte felt blindsided when she came across a provocative outfit she had never seen before, tucked neatly away in the back of the closet. After further examination and much confusion, she discovered it was a sexy maid’s costume, complete with the shortest skirt she had ever seen.

“Where did you find that?” Emmanuel gasped when he saw her holding the black mini-skirt, forgetting entirely where he had hidden the surprise.

“It was under the extra towels. Who wears this for you?” Brigitte asked as she tried to hide the tremor in her hands.

“It’s not what you think!” He explained, not wanting to give away her Valentine’s Day gift. 

He had been talking to a few college buddies when one of them boasted about buying a sexy costume for their girlfriend (and how lucky he got that night.) With the information stored in the back of his mind, Emmanuel went to a lingerie store after school with only the intention of browsing. However, it was game over when he saw the maid’s costume, knowing Brigitte would look fantastic wearing it. With shaking hands and a dry mouth, he handed the credit card to the shop clerk and discreetly tucked the outfit into his backpack.

That had been over three weeks ago, and he had forgotten about its existence - until now.

“Do you date someone else during the week? And did she happen to leave this behind?” Brigitte picked up the skirt with one finger, dangling it like a piece of trash.

Taking the item off her finger, he placed it neatly on the bed. “This was purchased for you for Valentine’s Day, Brigitte. How could you think there was someone else?”

“You can’t blame me for thinking the worst! I have never worn something like this for you before,” Brigitte sighed, not yet convinced that she was the true recipient of this scandalous outfit.

He ran his fingers through his curly hair, frustrated and sad that she didn’t trust him. “Who do I speak to every night on the phone? Who do I spend my entire weekend with? Brigitte, please explain to me who else I would be sleeping with. I thought you knew me better than this!”

Emmanuel had a point - a very valid one - as he watched her expression soften.

“I’m sorry for not trusting you,” Brigitte apologized, nestling in his lap. “Let me make it up to you.”

Nuzzling his face in her neck, he spoke: “Don’t worry about it.”

Grabbing the outfit off the bed, she had an idea. “I’ll be right back.”

In the privacy of the bathroom, she examined the costume closely, going over the cut and quality of the piece. It was her size. When she slipped on the skirt and blouse, she couldn’t help but feel sexy as she caught her reflection in the mirror. The blouse did wonders for her breasts and cleavage, and she found herself becoming daring and confident, ready to surprise her boyfriend.

As he waited patiently, curious to know her idea, she boldly announced through the wall, “Did someone hire a maid?”

From that moment on, seeing her in nothing but the costume and fully committing to the role of sexy housekeeper, his brain stopped functioning.

All he knew was he had died and gone to heaven with the sexiest maid he had ever seen. 

Chapter Text

“Absolutely not, Brigitte!!” Emmanuel screamed into the phone, feeling nothing but pure jealousy and deception when he discovered his girlfriend’s secret. “This is the ultimate betrayal!”

Brigitte tried to calm him down by speaking softly into the phone, embarrassed that the student sitting next to her could hear the ramblings of an insecure boyfriend.

Politely excusing herself, she took the cordless phone into the living room. “What’s your problem? You know I’m a teacher!”

“And this is how I find out you’re tutoring someone?! I have to hear some young man answer your phone! Who is he? How often does he come over?”

She knew not telling Emmanuel would eventually backfire, but Brigitte never thought Bernard would answer the telephone. When Bernard took the call on her behalf, Brigitte was deep in thought, reviewing his essay.

Hello?

Hello! Who is this?

I’m Bernard. May I take a message for you?

Who the hell are you? Where is my girlfriend?

Tiphaine?

What?!?! I’m talking about Brigitte!!! Where is she?!

That was as far as the conversation went before Brigitte yanked the phone from Bernard’s grip.

“Hi Emmanuel,” she said shyly, knowing not to anger the green-eyed monster.

“How often does this Bernard fella come over? And when the hell were you planning on telling me? Has he made a move on my woman yet?” Emmanuel sneered into the phone, seeing red as he kicked the coffee table in his apartment.

There was nothing she could say that would make the situation better, not when Emmanuel was this jealous and angry, but Brigitte explained herself calmly. “This is Bernard’s third visit. He struggles in my literature class; he’s new to the country and asked for extra help. Every time he’s been here, Tiphaine has been home. I can assure you there’s absolutely nothing going on.”

“Does he want you?” Emmanuel spat. “Is he good-looking? Your type?”

“What? I don’t even look at him like that! He’s my student!”

“I was your student once too!”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she yelled, her voice turning ice cold. Emmanuel knew better than anyone it was he who pursued her. It was he who begged her to date him. He promised to marry her before they had even become an official couple.

She hung up the phone, not wanting the bastard to hear her cry. Being accused of adultery tore her up inside, and she wanted to scream and curse into the phone, but she knew her silence would speak louder. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she took a deep breath before heading back to the kitchen where Bernard was patiently waiting.

“Is everything alright? Do I need to leave? Does your angry boyfriend live nearby?” Bernard asked innocently, not wanting to cause trouble for the couple. In his mind, Emmanuel could tear through the door any second, ready to rip off his head.

She touched his arm, “it’s fine. My boyfriend is just being difficult. Don’t worry, let’s continue the lesson. Where were we?”

Bernard and Brigitte worked together for another hour before he called it quits, needing to get home to bed.

As Brigitte tried to fall asleep, her heart full of anger and sadness, she heard a commotion outside her bedroom window. Slipping on a modest t-shirt, she hurried to the door only to find Tiphaine and Emmanuel speaking enthusiastically.

“What do you know about this Bernard student?” He quizzed Tiphaine delicately.

“Maman is helping him with reading and writing. He’s new to France from Germany. Manu, Bernard is very kind to us,” Tiphaine replied honestly. “Sometimes, he brings me chocolate.”

This wasn’t sitting well for Emmanuel as he continued his line of questioning. “Does he seem attracted to your Maman? Has he ever brought her flowers? Jewelry? Books?”

“That’s enough, Emmanuel!” Brigitte shouted from the stairs, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Cautiously removing a small bouquet from his backpack, he presented them to his girlfriend. “I came to apologize for my behaviour.”

“By drilling my daughter about Bernard? It’s obvious you still don’t trust me,” Brigitte sighed. “What do you want me to tell you? That he’s asleep upstairs?”

“Is he?”

“NO! You idiot! He went home over an hour ago! Why can’t you trust me? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you about him!” Brigitte turned to Tiphaine, “Go to bed, honey; I need to talk to Emmanuel.”

Giving her mom and future stepfather some privacy, they didn’t continue the conversation until Tiphaine returned to her bedroom.

“Brigitte, I love you so much. It was as though the wind had been knocked out of me when I heard another man answer your phone,” Emmanuel explained, taking a seat on the couch and pulling her closer.

She shook her head, “Don’t you see why I didn’t tell you? You’re so jealous that you took a train down here at midnight! And to do what? Why? To see if Bernard was still here?”

“I didn’t do it out of jealousy! I did it because of the way I spoke to you! I wanted to apologize in person,” Emmanuel said, grabbing her arms and pulling her down to his lap. He kissed her face repeatedly and strengthened his grip around her waist. “I’m so sorry. Please, please forgive me.”

“I was wrong too. I should have told you about Bernard, but there’s absolutely nothing for you to worry about,” Brigitte confessed, walking him through a typical evening with Bernard. He was always a gentleman, never late, and sincerely grateful for the extra help he received from his teacher.

Emmanuel felt better about the situation as they continued to talk, finally getting it through his thick skull that his girlfriend was only interested in one man - him.

“Surely, you’re not going to travel home now, so how about coming upstairs and joining me in bed?” Brigitte offered, playfully pulling him off the couch. “I have clean clothes for you to wear in the morning.”

Emmanuel raced her up the stairs, stripping down to his boxers and climbing into bed like the happiest man alive.

With their legs intertwined, Brigitte rested her head on his chest and, with an almost straight face, delivered a joke. “I won't be able to visit you in Paris next weekend or take your calls at night. If we’re being honest with each other, I should probably tell you that I’m fully booked with students coming over.”

“Chérie?”

“Marcus, Leonardo, Gabriel, Louis, Hugo, Frederic…” She giggled as he tickled her relentlessly. The playfulness of their couple shone through as they laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. 

Chapter Text

She smiled as she heard the familiar sounds of the chaos that greeted his entry home each night. The way that their now three dogs fought over each other for attention from their beloved Papa, the secret she had been keeping from him since her little engagement this morning finally about to pay off.

"Chérie!?" She heard him holler out from the doorway, as if she wasn’t always waiting for him when she promised him she would be.

"In the kitchen!" She replied, unable to hide the smile in her voice.

"You sound like you’re in a good mood tonig-," she heard him say as he got closer, coming to a complete stop she was sure when he entered their kitchen and got a good look at her back, the oversized "Macron" Olympic Marseille jersey hanging loosely off her shoulder, and covering the incredibly short bike shorts she had on underneath.

"Dinner’s almost ready," she said as if she hadn't noticed, a large smirk on her lips, hidden still by her back.

"Forget dinner," he growled rushing to her and turning her in his arms, quickly pinning her against the counter unable to stand the sight of her long legs peaking out under the hem of the deeply familiar fabric.

"You like it?" She asked as she felt his hands trailing up her sides underneath the cold fabric of the jersey. "I got it today when I was in Marseille at that event."

"I like it very much," he answered leaning in to kiss her deeply. "Very, very much," he continued through a few more heated, stolen kisses.

Brigitte giggled, pleased as he pulled back, not so secretly thrilled she could get him this hot and bothered even after all these years. "I’m glad I can make you so happy."

"Now we have to get you to a game," he grinned at her.

"Oh, no! I’ll wear the jersey but I draw a line at yet another game!"

"Please," he asked with his best puppy dog eyes. "I’ll make it worth your while!"

"Well, now that’s a little more tempting," she raised her eyebrow teasingly.

Getting the hint, Emmanuel smirked, pressing a kiss to her neck before whispering in her ear, "how about I start now?"

"You talk a big game, Monsieur," she taunted.

"I’ll show you big, Madame," he answered quickly gathering her in his arms, carrying his laughing wife towards their bedroom.

Chapter Text

It wasn't lost on him when she turned down his offer, yet again, to go swimming. She had never once agreed to join him in the water, constantly changing the subject when that sport was casually brought up. Still, he continued to ask, hoping her answer would change one day. 

Brigitte knew how to swim—he had seen countless photographs and home videos of her in various pools and lakes when her children were younger. She always balanced one child on her shoulders while another swam around her, smiling brightly for the cameras. 

So, what was the problem?

Emmanuel waited for the right moment to confront her about this topic, desperately wanting to understand her hesitation.

Playfully nudging her arm, he dared to ask her again. "The weather is supposed to be warm this weekend. Would you like to go swimming with me?"

Brigitte thought about it for several seconds before rejecting his invitation with a flat "no".

By now, he had played enough of this guessing game.

"Why won't you ever swim with me? Are you a secret Olympian that will blow me out of the water? Can you swim a 100-metre lap in 20 seconds?" He tried to keep the conversation light. "Because I wouldn't mind if you could!"

"That's not it," she whispered, not wanting to discuss the situation further. He had never made her feel anything but beautiful and desirable in their relationship. Yet, something was holding her back.

"Please tell me what it is! Do you not own a swimsuit? Because I would find that very hard to believe," Emmanuel replied. "We can buy you one tonight, or I'm sure Laurence could lend you a swimsuit if you asked!"

If they were going to proceed with this relationship, sooner or later, he would have to see her in a swimsuit (and eventually, nude). She felt it was time to be honest and open up about her trepidation with swimming. Speaking softly, Brigitte said, "I have three kids."

He nodded, trying to understand her statement. "I know - I've met them."

Brigitte shook her head, "you don't understand what I'm saying. I don't have the same body as women your age. They're toned, stretch-mark-free, with no evidence of having carried children! I don't have the body, at least not anymore, of a 19-year-old!"

Shifting closer to her, Emmanuel held her hand, "You're right, you don't. But I happen to love your body. From what I've seen so far, it's the most beautiful one in the world. Your stomach is proof that you've had three remarkable babies growing inside you. Please, Brigitte, don't let something like a few stretch marks deter you from showing your amazing figure. And I am not with you because of your appearance; I'm with you because I love you. Even though you are smoking hot."

After hearing his kind words, she felt better and soon agreed to go swimming with him. When the following weekend rolled around, Brigitte remembered to pack a tasteful (but sexy) two-piece swimsuit for the occasion.

He waited on his couch while she changed in his tiny bathroom, giving her the privacy she deserved.

"Emmanuel," she poked her head out of the bathroom door. "If you want me to change, please be honest. I brought a conservative one-piece as well."

He braced himself for the big reveal, knowing she would look drop-dead gorgeous, and he couldn't keep his hands off her.

As she exited the bathroom wearing a light green bikini, he lost the ability to speak, his jaw hanging open and his eyes growing wider as she stepped closer. A dainty string held the top together while the bottoms were cut so high on her hip that nothing was left to the imagination except for the small fabric covering her most private part.

He had no idea what she was so worried about - she looked incredible.

Brigitte took his silence the wrong way and panicked. "Emmanuel? Should I put on the one-piece? Emmanuel?... I shouldn't have worn this! Just forget what you saw!"

It only took a few seconds for his hands to hover over her body, unsure where to touch first. This was by far the most skin of hers Emmanuel had seen, and he could not muster up a sentence.

"Don't!" he was finally able to speak. "You look… irresistible."

Her eyes caught his erection through his swim shorts, and she blushed, imagining what he looked like bare. Based on the length of his outline, Brigitte knew she wouldn't be disappointed. 

"Let's forget about swimming," Emmanuel suggested, "I can't concentrate on anything except your body right now."

Calmingly, she led the way to his bedroom, taking note of his shaky hands as he followed closely behind like an excited puppy, his heart almost beating out of his chest. 

"May I?" Emmanuel asked, grabbing hold of the string that held the bikini top together.

"You can… Only if I get to reciprocate," she grinned, eyeing his ever-growing erection through his shorts.

He undid the knot with trembling hands and sat stunned, watching the fabric fall to the floor. She sat topless in front of him, confident and relaxed because he made her feel that way.

Brigitte smiled reassuringly, knowing he was a bundle of nerves as his eyes darted to the floor. He did not want to be caught staring, but he needed to memorize what she looked like. "You can touch them. Emmanuel, you have permission to do whatever you want. We'll go as slowly as you like."

"Thank you," he choked on his words, still in awe of what she looked like. This beautiful woman wanted him. She chose him to be his girlfriend, and despite not wearing a ring on her finger, they were fully committed to each other. "I don't want to forget this image. Of you. Like this."

She laughed at his funny statement: "You don't have to study them so intensely. They're not going anywhere — and neither am I. Now, is it my turn yet?" 

Chapter Text

"Chérie? Do you know where we’ve moved the box with our wedding photos?" Emmanuel ran up to ask her in a panic. So many things had been switched from one place to another in such a short time, and he knew that while she would have taken the upmost care with that most precious of cargo, he wasn’t really sure where anything they owned was anymore.

"It’s somewhere in that second bedroom that I’m using as a storage room as I’m moving us in here. Why?" She asked confused. Of all the hundreds of boxes she has packed, or supervised the packing of, in the last few weeks as they were forced to leave their house in Paris for the Élysée, this is the one he wanted right this minute?

"I need some photos for my desk," he answered as if it was the simplest explanation in the world.

"Oh, and you want our wedding photos?" She clarified. It was incredibly sweet of him, but she could think of a lot of other family photos that were easier to find in the chaos that she was sure would do the trick.

"Of course I do! When I’m having a bad day, or the call I’m on is making me want to scream, I want to be able to look at us on the happiest day of my life and know that no matter what I’m going through, you’ve vowed to be right there with me."

"For better or worse?" She smiled like an idiot, completely melted inside by his answer.

"Exactly!" He beamed brightly at her. "Now do you want to help me, or are you going to make me look alone since you’ve done all the work so far?"

"Do you think I’m that cruel?" She asked a little wounded.

"Of course not. I just feel a little guilty you’ve had to do so much of this on your own. More than a little guilty."

"I spent years commuting between two homes to be with you. I’m a master at packing by now, chéri. Now come on, let’s go find those photos."

She sighed when she opened the door to the room now filed with piles of boxes, turning to him as she explained, "it will be labeled with something to the effect of photos or family photos or wedding photos. We just have the find the right box."

After several minutes of digging, moving from one box to another, he stumbled upon the one he had been looking for. "Here it is!" He exclaimed triumphantly lifting the lid on the box to reveal their wedding album on top resting on top of a further box of loose photographs from that day.

"Now, my one request is you don’t take anything from this book. I would like these photos to remain intact please!"

"But we can look through them, right?"

"That’s a given, come on. Let’s go find a seat."

Carefully, they dodged the haphazardly strewn boxes until they made it to the safety of their couch, resting the box on the table across from them, and quickly removing the white photo album from inside.

Resting it on his lap, he opened the front cover and beamed as he looked at the first photo on the cover page, the two of them holding hands as they turned around after the ceremony, ready to walk through their gathered friends and family finally as husband and wife.

Gently, he ran his finger between the cover page and the next photo page, waiting for her smiling nod to flip the page to a photo one of their girls clearly took of her getting ready that morning, her beaming smile in the mirror as she slipped her earrings into her ear.

"Gosh, chérie. You were the most beautiful bride. Look at you. You are glowing!"

Brigitte blushed beside him, beyond flattered at the way he was melting in front of the photo of her ten years and at least a dozen wrinkles ago.

"To think that that beautiful woman married me," he continued, whispering to himself in awe.

“I was so nervous,” Brigitte said gently as he turned another page, this time to a photo of them walking in with their little granddaughter tottering in between them in her bright pink coat that Laurence insisted had to match her Daddy’s tie.

“Nervous?” He asked, looking up from the page in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it all felt too good to be true. That you were actually making good on that promise from all those years ago. That you were marrying me.”

“Brigitte,” he said sincerely, letting the book now showing photos of them at their reception, his arm keeping a tight grip on her bicep, lay open in his lap as he looked into her eyes. “I would marry you in every universe, in every timeline, in every lifetime.”

“I would too,” she answered, struggling past the lump in her throat. “I am always and forever yours, mon cœur.”

Emmanuel picked up her hand that was resting gently on the couch between them and pressed a kiss to her bare knuckles. “Now. Let’s dig through these loose ones to find some for my desk.”

“Oh, go ahead,” she relented. “Just make sure you put them back in 5 years when you’re done.”

“Ten years,” he corrected.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves!” She laughed.

Looking back down at the photo of his left hand newly wearing her wedding ring, he smiled to himself, “I don’t know, Brigitte. It seems to have worked out for me so far. After all, I married you didn’t I?”

Chapter Text

She was livid. Livid probably was an understatement, as, if she was a cartoon character there would be smoke coming out of her ears.

Tristan had moved to the corner of her office, practically hiding as he saw her eyes immediately darken when she reached his highlighted passage, praying she didn’t shoot the messenger.

"Excuse me," she muttered venomously as she stood from her desk, quickly turning on her heel towards his office.

"Hi, chérie!" He greeted warmly when he saw her walk through the door, always a pleasure, but especially one now when it seemed like she was the only person left in his corner. "What’s wrong?"

"What’s wrong?!" She practically screamed, throwing the printed article she had crumbled under the force of her hands on his desk. "These assholes! And their quotes!"

"What did they say?" He asked confused quickly scanning the article, trying to keep up.

"LIES! That’s what they said! Lies!! They printed this filth -" she started ranting, pacing hurriedly in her clacking heels, the pent up anger seeking some release.

"I’m sure it’s not that bad," he interrupted to soothe, still not to the section in question yet, but beginning to be a little alarmed. While he knew his wife could get quite spirited, he couldn’t remember the last time something printed in one of these articles made her this mad.

"Not that bad?!? NOT THAT BAD! Did you read what they said I said?! The words they put in my mouth? That you would resign rather than be embarrassed? As if I was doubting you? As if I was undermining you?!"

He smiled in spite of the anger crackling in the room as he watched her, arms flying, eyes burning as she looked ready for to go to war for him. His avenging angel.

"They’ve printed this kind of bullshit before," he said gently, walking over towards her and grabbing her hands firmly in his in the way he knows soothes her.

"But they’re weaponizing me to hurt you," she pouted some of the wind leaving her sails.

"Chérie, they’ve done that before too. I know the truth, you know the truth. That’s all that has ever mattered to me."

"I’m still not letting this go," she told him firmly.

"How about for the next few minutes, though? Let’s go get out of our heads, maybe walk our dogs together." He proposed.

"Fine. Distract me," she finally smiled.

"That’s my girl," he grinned before he leaned in for a quick kiss.

"And don’t you forget it!" She replied when he pulled back.

A few days later, as he was reading through the magazine he noticed something different in the Letter to the Editor section.

"Well I’ll be damned," he whispered as he read it a second time just to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

"Thank you," he texted her as she was on her way to her afternoon engagement.

"I would burn the world for you, you know." She replied.

"Let’s just start with this letter."

Chapter Text

Emmanuel’s heart shattered when he heard the news. When one of his staffers reluctantly told him what had happened, he wanted to find his wife and comfort her. His Brigitte had been booed. The incident had happened as she was heading into church for a funeral. Brigitte kept her head up and waved to the crowd while her team of trustworthy men stood alongside her, ushering her into the building.

When she returned home, Brigitte was greeted with open arms by the only person she wanted to be with—the man responsible for the recent events—her husband.

Slamming the door to his office closed, Emmanuel held her in his arms, kissing her neck and face until she gently backed away. The grip from his hold had been painfully tight.

“It’s all my fault, Chérie,” he confessed, tears falling from his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“What’s your fault?” Brigitte asked delicately, using her finger to wipe away a single tear from his cheek.

“Everything this damn country and job has put you through. The horrible rumours, the ridiculous stories, the relentless digging through our past. It needs to stop. If I didn’t run for President, none of this shit would have happened. We’d be living happily at home surrounded by our children and grandchildren,” Emmanuel spat, his voice getting louder as he spoke. “I’m not worth it!”

“You are worth it; you’ve always been worth it. I chose this life with you - for better or for worse. I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, kissing his forehead.

He felt comfortable being vulnerable with her, hugging her tight as if she was going to leave his office and pack her bags.

Their life together hadn’t been easy. They had faced many obstacles, some almost tearing them apart, but they always managed to come out stronger.

“Please, please don’t leave me,” Emmanuel whispered, his voice cracking as he begged her not to give up on their life, on him. His insecurities were coming to the forefront as he breathed in her scent, not knowing how he’d manage without her. And did he want to? Absolutely not. The thought of being without her was unthinkable. She was his oxygen, his heartbeat, his entire world.

Brigitte stepped back, keeping him at arm’s length so she could get a good look at this broken man. “What did you say?”

“I asked you not to leave me,” he repeated, his voice even more broken than before. "Just please remember how much I love you before you pack your bags..." 

“I will never leave you. Emmanuel, I am not going anywhere. Haven’t I proven my loyalty to our marriage these past few decades together?” Brigitte asked, her heart breaking for her husband.  Even after all their years together, he was still worried that she would leave him and find another man worthy of her unconditional love and support.

He shook his head, “You could be happier with someone else. Someone who wouldn’t put you through all this bullshit. You and the children could live a peaceful life without being criticized every day by the biased media! Just leave the country and never hear or read the Macron name again!”

Did he really feel this way? His words shook Brigitte to her core. “I wouldn’t want that life at all. I AM a Macron.” She hugged him again, skin to skin, kissing his reddened cheeks. “Do you know why I don’t want another life? Do you know why I refuse to separate? Because every life I choose, every life I dream about, will always include you. You are my life, Emmanuel. I’ve put up with a lot worse than a couple of fools booing me. Today was nothing compared to some vulgar names I've been called before. I will continue to smile through the bad times because the good always outweighs it. I’m a strong woman, Chéri! I would choose this life again and again if it meant being by your side.”

“You're the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he concluded, kissing her one final time, meaning every word. “I love you very much.” 

Chapter Text

“Seriously? Again?!” Brigitte’s security guard laughed as he playfully nudged Emmanuel’s guard in an attempt to get the man's attention. The couple had been in their private suite for a suspicious amount of time, frustrating the two of them and the other staffers, all of whom had a strict schedule to follow. But everything became crystal clear when the Presidential Couple emerged from Emmanuel's office hand in hand.    

“Both of them this time!” His guard noted, biting his bottom lip to keep from hollering at the sight of Brigitte and Emmanuel's bodies covered in fabrics from the chin down, not an inch of skin on display for anyone else to see.

“Nice scarf, Brigitte,” her guard whispered when she came within earshot of the young man. “Emmanuel’s too.”

She tilted her head to one side and blushed. This particular guard knew her well - too well - for almost a decade. They were comfortable with each other, and he knew what it meant when his boss wore a decorative scarf in June. 

Brigitte nervously touched the linen fabric and sighed, “Is it that obvious?”

“It is - but perhaps only to me because I know you and your husband quite well,” he stated, having worked for them since 2017. “I witness a side of you that others don’t get the privilege of seeing. It’s nice to work for a couple who adore each other - no matter how often they might get carried away.”

Feeling comfortable, Brigitte revealed the spot on her neck that, just an hour before, Emmanuel had sucked with vigour.

With a chuckle, the guard examined the purple & blue coin-sized mark. “Yeah, that’s bad. You’ll be wearing scarves and turtlenecks for the next five days. Your husband couldn't wait until the winter months to mark his territory?" 

“You should see what I did to him. It’s even worse,” Brigitte admitted, half embarrassed, half proud of the love bruises she left on her husband's body. “You would think after all these years, we would be able to control ourselves in the shower. I guess not….”

“Well, I can’t blame the President,” her guard said honestly, tiptoeing the line between professionalism and friendliness. Luckily, they had a playful and genuine rapport. He loved Brigitte as a friend and employer, and it warmed his heart to see the way her husband treated her. They deserved each other - even if they acted like lovesick teenagers on a daily basis. It beat having to deal with the opposite: previous employers who made him cover up steamy affairs and spousal deceit. He was grateful to finally be working for a couple like the Macron’s.

Meanwhile, across the room, Emmanuel approached his guard timidly.

“Nice scarf, Sir,” he said with a polite nod. “Madame’s too.”

“Oh, do shut up.”  

Chapter Text

He’s been waiting all day to see her, to hold her in his arms and kiss her beautiful face. Seeing her on the television screen isn’t enough to fuel his obsession. No, he needs to physically touch and smell her, to smother her with love as he grinds against her, wanting to hear her deep moans and adorable giggles.

He genuinely misses her when she’s gone for several hours at a time. Text messages and phone calls aren’t enough to fill the void, and they are not the same as popping into her office for a quick coffee break.

Emmanuel turns his back to the door to select a book from his ever-growing shelf. The wait for her is becoming too long, so he has to keep himself occupied with literature.

His body almost goes into protective fight mode when he feels two arms around his waist. He doesn’t recognize the fabric of the navy blue Nylon jacket, nor does the aroma instantly jog his memory. The overwhelming scent of men’s musky cologne fills his nostrils, and his shoulders begin to tense before he hears her voice.

“Chéri? What’s wrong?” Brigitte asks, alarmed by his reaction. He has never reacted to her touch like this before. She wasn't a dangerous stranger - she was his wife. 

“This jacket that you're wearing. I didn’t recognize it!” Emmanuel says, wondering where his wife got it from. It was two sizes too big on her tiny frame and had a masculine, almost familiar scent he couldn't quite pinpoint.

“I was chilly at the event, so Didier lent me his jacket. He told me I could give it back to him next week,” Brigitte explains, appreciating the kind gesture from a dear friend.

Emmanuel hates the idea that she is wearing another man’s belongings. He has a flashback to the night she slipped on one of his college buddy’s hoodies during a bonfire. He still remembers the fight that occurred the next morning when his buddy said he’d never wash it again because it smelled like “Sexy Brigitte.”

Reading his facial expression, Brigitte unzips the jacket and tosses it on the coffee table. She goes in for another hug, but he politely pushes her away. “I can still smell his cologne on you.”

Emmanuel wonders how much Didier sprayed on the jacket for the odour to penetrate Brigitte’s shirt.

“I was cold, Emmanuel,” Brigitte repeats, “he was being a gentleman.”

“Maybe he should be a gentleman with his own wife and leave other men’s wives alone,” Emmanuel scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I was looking forward to coming home and telling you about my day, but I see Jealous Emmanuel is the personality I’ll be stuck with tonight.”

Emmanuel grabs her by the waist and spins her around, ready for a fight. “How would you react if I came home wearing a jacket that smelled like another woman? An athletic and beautiful woman, no less!”

“I would assume the same scenario; that you were either cold or you spilled on your shirt, and this hypothetical woman was kind enough to offer her jacket,” Brigitte replies matter-of-factly. “If you need me, I’ll be in the shower washing Didier’s scent off my skin.”

He doesn’t know why these insecurities creep up - but they do. Brigitte doesn't want Didier (or any other man.) And she has proven that to him countless times over the years. Emmanuel jumps slightly when she slams the bathroom door closed. 

Before taking a seat on the couch, he hears Brigitte’s cell phone ding from inside her purse. Keeping no secrets from each other, he reaches in and retrieves it, curious to see if it’s from one of their children. As suspected, it’s a desperate-sounding text from Tiphaine.

Unlocking Brigitte’s phone, he quickly types back:

Hi Honey, it’s Manu. Maman is in the shower, but I’ll let her know you’re looking for her. I hope everything is alright. Xoxo

As he watches the dots bounce across the screen, he smiles, knowing Tiphaine is typing back.

Hi Manu, I am great. I just need to ask Maman a quick question. I’m stuck baking 100 cupcakes for a bake sale, and I need an old family recipe. Also, is everything okay with you? I will regret saying this, but I thought you two usually showered together.

He decides to be honest with his daughter, no matter how bad it will make him look. Not one to mince words, Emmanuel types back:

I am a jealous fool. Your maman came home wearing Didier’s jacket, and I didn’t appreciate it. I overreacted like a typical idiot!

Manu, the fact Maman wore Didier’s jacket should mean nothing. Maman is forever committed to you. Even if she came home without panties on and her hair was a mess, you have nothing to worry about.

What?!?!?!?

I’m kidding! But Manu, please, don’t accuse maman of adultery. She loves you! Only you! Now, go apologize and fix it!

I will make things right. I can’t lose her. I love you, Tip xoxo

I love you too, Manu. And Maman isn’t going anywhere - remember that.

Before he slips the phone back inside Brigitte’s purse, he wonders for a split second what the text messages between his wife and Didier could possibly look like. He shakes his head and returns the phone back to where he found it. He trusts her completely. 

He makes his way to the bathroom to apologize, knocking gently on the door in case she’s taking a peaceful bath.

“Come in,” Brigitte announces loudly.

Emmanuel turns the knob slowly and takes a deep breath, ready to apologize and beg for forgiveness. As timing would have it, he steps inside at the exact moment she’s getting out of the tub. He extends a helping hand while staring hopelessly at her naked body, reacting as though it's the first time he's seen her without clothes on.

“I was waiting for you to show up,” Brigitte smirks, “but I guess I was correct in assuming you were still sulking over Didier’s jacket.”

“About that. I need to apologize; I’m so sorry.”

He grabs a towel off the rack and dries her wet body lovingly and attentively, making sure not to miss a single spot.

Once she is completely dry, Brigitte slips on her robe with a smile. “Emmanuel, you’re the only man who I want to see me like this. So, yes, I might have been wearing Didier’s jacket, but it meant nothing more than me being cold.”

He hugs her tightly before placing a kiss on her neck, smelling only the sweet scent of her lavender body wash; the aroma of Didier is finally gone. 

“You don’t smell like him anymore,” Emmanuel grins happily. “Come to our bedroom, and I’ll have you smelling like me very soon.”

She winks and squeezes his ass, “that’s the best offer I’ve had all day, Mr. Macron.” 

Chapter Text

2000

“Emmanuel, I’m going to bed,” Brigitte kissed his cheek, not caring to stay and find out how the football game ended. There were still 20 minutes remaining in a scoreless game; however, she would rather read a book than watch a bunch of men run back and forth while attempting to kick a ball into a net.

Sports were never her area of interest, but her boyfriend seemed to be mildly obsessed (to say the least) with the boring sport.

“Okay,” Emmanuel waved her off, his eyes never leaving the large-screen TV he recently bought for his tiny apartment. “Goodnight.”

Brigitte climbed into bed, slightly heartbroken that her boyfriend would rather watch football than join her. Perhaps she hadn’t made her intentions clear, and he really assumed she was going to sleep.

Opening the drawer that she kept at his place, she rummaged through the pile of sexy lingerie until she found the perfect piece - one he had never seen her wear before. Brigitte knew her intentions would be crystal clear after slipping on the black one-piece.

She couldn’t help but smile as she checked herself out in the mirror, knowing this little number would do the trick. This particular outfit was tied up in the back, with a generous V-neck at the front, designed to show off her cleavage. The piece de resistance was the fact that the lingerie was crotchless; her most intimate body part was on full display for him to enjoy.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked, barely looking up as he reached his hand inside a bag of potato chips.

“I missed you,” she whispered, not bothering to join him on the couch. If he couldn’t even lift his head, she wasn’t going to keep trying. “Forget it,” she rolled her eyes and turned on her heels, returning to the bedroom.

At that final second, he caught a quick glimpse of her outfit, his mouth salivating at the sight of her bare cheeks while her blonde hair was suddenly tied up in a bun. He could only imagine what the front looked like.

There was only one way to find out.

“What are you doing?” He asked as she rummaged through her drawer in search of a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. Her sexual desire was now crushed, along with her self-esteem. 

“Now, I am going to sleep,” she answered with annoyance, her arms covering her very exposed chest.

“I didn’t realize earlier what you meant! I am such an idiot! I literally thought you were just going to sleep,” Emmanuel replied, beating himself up at his stupidity. Never in a million years would he have chosen sports over his girlfriend - especially if it meant finishing the night with her naked in his arms. She was giving him an open invitation for sex, and he missed the signs.

His mouth fell open, and his brain short-circuited when he realized the outfit was crotchless. He instantly forgot about the remaining minutes of the football game. 

Scooping her up in his arms, he enthusiastically tossed her on the bed and spread her legs as wide as he could. With a reassuring nod, Brigitte granted him full approval. “I’m a stupid, stupid man,” he repeated, his mouth hovering over her wet lips before apologizing the best way he knew how.

2024

“Emmanuel, I’m going to bed,” Brigitte announced, suddenly appearing in the doorway wearing a half-opened silk robe with nothing on underneath.

As quickly as his hand could grab the remote, he turned off the television and ran after her. He removed his shirt and pants at record speed, quickly standing before his wife in only his tented boxer shorts.

No matter the outcome of tonight's game, he was going to get lucky. 

Chapter Text

"Unforgettable, huh?" He asked slipping his arms around her waist from behind when they finally had slipped back inside for a moment to catch their breath, pulling her back into his chest.

"And I didn’t even mean the view," she teased with a smile, turning in his arms and loosely wrapping hers around his neck. "Well, that view. This one wasn’t too bad on the eyes."

He laughed deeply at that, eyes crinkling in the corners in delight in a way that never failed to draw an answering smile from her lips.

"What was so unforgettable about it?" He asked, pulling her closer into him, wrapping his arms more tightly around her waist, until they were crossed on her back, his crossed hands resting just above her ass.

"It was our honeymoon," she smiled back at him, sealing her answer with a quick kiss to his lips.

"Almost 17 years ago now," he continued a little wistfully as she pulled back.

"Sometimes it feels like a whole lifetime ago," she agreed.

"Do you ever regret it?" He asked, suddenly stricken by fear at that sentence. He knows things have been so hard for her lately. There has been so much hate that has come her way, especially since he called for the snap election, and he knows how hard it has been on her. He was hoping that this Olympics break, and their little retreat away with their family, would be enough to bring some spark back into those beautiful blue eyes.

"Regret what?" She asked, confused. "Regret marrying you?" She tried to clarify.

He nodded, unable to voice the fear aloud.

"I have never, ever regretted that, chéri. Marrying you is the single best decision I have ever made in my life."

"Really?" He asked, overwhelmed by the love he felt pouring out of her at the statement.

"Really. I might have chosen to become a Mother, but I couldn’t choose our children. But I could choose you. I did choose you. And I do choose you every single day."

"I know this was never what you envisioned our life would be when you married me -" he started, his heart heavy under the weight of all she had suffered for him, because of him.

"No, this is better," she interrupted quickly, firmly. "Life with you, as your wife, has been so much better than I ever could have imagined.

"Do you know what I remember most vividly from that trip?" She asked, only seemingly changing the subject.

"The wine?" He asked, trying a joke to lighten the mood.

"No, although that was a close second," she laughed, heart settling as she saw the smile return to his face in response. "No, you thought I was asleep one night after we had exhausted ourselves. You were holding me so tightly to you, and you kept pressing feather light kisses to the top of my head, clearly trying not to wake me. And I remember I could hear you whispering something, something you thought I couldn’t hear.

"You vowed that you would be the best husband anyone had ever seen to me, that you would make me so happy, and that you would one day make me proud. And I remember how that broke my heart at the time, because it sounded like you didn’t think I already was so happy, that you didn’t know you had already made me proud every day for those 10 years we had been together before our wedding.

"You have been the best husband in the history of the world to me for these past almost 17 years, chéri, and I am so very, very happy."

"I love you. That feels inadequate to describe how deeply I feel about you, but I love you so much."

"I love you too. Every single second of every single day. Don’t ever doubt that," she pleaded looking deep into his eyes.

"I’ll try not to," he smiled.

Carefully she disentangled his hands from behind her back, and gently pulled his left hand towards her face. "If you ever do, just look down, right here," she said before she pressed a kiss to his wedding ring.

Chapter Text

Tiphaine had been quiet all evening, keeping to herself and not engaging in casual conversation at the dinner table. It was unlike her to behave this way. She was usually an upbeat and bubbly teenager; however, her behaviour tonight was enough to raise suspicion. Her actions caused Emmanuel to wonder (and worry) if he had done something wrong. Brigitte wasn’t home yet, so the almost stepfather/stepdaughter pair were forced to eat in uncomfortable silence.

“Tip, is everything alright? You’re very quiet tonight. I’m sure your Maman will be home soon,” Emmanuel asked, hoping she’d open up. "Did something bad happen at school?" 

She smiled weakly, taking a sip of cold water, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can. You can ask me anything,” Emmanuel reassured, wondering what could be on her mind.

After putting her dirty plate and cup in the sink, she hopped on the counter, her long legs dangling in front.

“There’s a boy at school who likes me, and a few people have told me he plans to ask me out next weekend. I don’t know what to do because I’m unsure how I feel about him.”

Emmanuel wasn’t ready for a conversation like this. The thought of his little Tiphaine dating drove him crazy. She was only 15 years old and hadn’t been in a serious relationship before. This was new territory, and he didn't want to screw anything up by saying the wrong thing. 

“Has he tried anything with you?” Emmanuel asked, full of panic. “I swear if he’s done something, I will kick his….”

With a firm grip on his shoulder, she reassured him, “I promise you that nothing has happened - not even a peck on the cheek, Manu. That’s why I don’t know how I feel about him. I barely know him!”

Tiphaine explained that he was a new kid in her math class who had recently moved to France from Croatia. He didn’t seem to have many friends yet, but he took a liking to her immediately.

“Manu, I need all the advice I can get on dating! Please help me.”

It was evenings like this when he wished Brigitte was home, but alas, she wasn’t, and he had to figure out the situation on his own.

“The best advice I can give you is to be honest with him. If you’re not interested, don’t go on a date and give him the impression you want it to turn into a real relationship. False hope will just make him sad - especially if he’s crazy about you,” Emmanuel explained. “It took a lot of persuasion to get your mother to date me, but I knew we were soulmates. She was worth waiting for because I knew we had something special.”

Tiphaine played with her necklace nervously, “Did you… and Maman… umm, wait a while before becoming intimate?”

“I am waiting until our wedding night,” Emmanuel replied somewhat convincingly, not expecting the roaring laughter from Tiphaine.

“I know, for a fact, you and Maman are not waiting until marriage,” Tiphaine giggled, “Anyways….” She shook the image from her head. “I promise I’ll let you know what happens. He’s really cute; I’m just not sure he’s my type.”

When Brigitte returned home later that night, Tiphaine was already in bed. After greeting each other with several kisses, and inappropriate ass squeezes, Emmanuel sat her down. “We have a problem with our daughter!”

“Is she sick? Is she hurt?” Brigitte asked, concerned. “Why didn’t you try to get a hold of me?”

“No! It’s nothing like that! A new boy at school likes her, and he might ask her out,” Emmanuel explained, hating the situation already.

Brigitte covered her mouth to stifle a giggle, “And that’s a problem… Why?”

“I just don’t like it,” Emmanuel replied, thinking his precious little girl was still too young to date. He knew what boys that age wanted. It wasn’t that long ago that he was fifteen years old and absolutely in love with a woman who seemed forbidden. He remembered the late nights spent dreaming about her and wishing she’d take him seriously. (Not to mention the cold showers). 

“This happens when kids get older - it’s inevitable! My older children have partners!” Brigitte shot back. “You don’t seem upset over that.”

“They’re not in the 10th grade!!” He slumped in the chair, not ready for this side of parenting.

—————

Endless grunts and sighs came from their bedroom as Emmanuel tried to concentrate on the book he was reading. His curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to investigate. Several piles of clothes were scattered across the floor as Brigitte sat amongst them.

“What’s wrong?” Emmanuel asked, shaking his head at the mess.

“I can’t find my black & white striped mini-skirt!” Brigitte sighed, irritated. “It was here three days ago! Where the hell did it go? I wanted to wear it to dinner tonight!”

Emmanuel found her frustration cute and couldn’t help but chuckle, “Don’t look at me! It’s not my style,” he joked.

“Don’t tell me….. No no no! What was Tiphaine wearing when she left for her date?” Brigitte asked.

Emmanuel folded his arms, “she was wearing a knee-length black coat.”

“And my mini-skirt was probably under that coat!!!” Brigitte grunted, not happy that her daughter was out in revealing attire. “She could have asked permission first! Tiphaine is grounded when she comes home!”

Emmanuel saw the irony in the situation and decided to have a little fun of his own. “Well, well, well, look who’s finally upset about our girl dating. Welcome to my crumbling world!”

Looking at each other, they burst into laughter. Emmanuel used his strength to pull her off the floor and into his waiting arms, where he indulged her with tender kisses.

At least they would always have each other to weather this parental shitstorm. 

Chapter Text

Since making the unfortunate discovery last weekend, Emmanuel hasn’t been able to remove the image from his head. He has lost his appetite in the days since, and his sleep schedule has transformed from passable to pure chaos. Tossing and turning until 4 AM has become his new norm, and he receives only two hours of sleep (on a good night). 

He didn’t want to bring it up over the phone, biting his tongue whenever it crossed his mind.

No, he needed to see her facial expression when he confronted her.

Emmanuel had made this shocking discovery while looking for a bandage in his girlfriend’s medicine cabinet. He couldn’t remember if the box was opened or still sealed. He slammed the cabinet shut quickly, scared to be caught, before continuing their afternoon together. 

They had yet to reach the intimacy part of their relationship, and he wondered if she was using them with someone else.

As the couple tied their running shoes before their Friday evening walk, he tenderly gripped her arm. Now was finally his chance to ask the daunting question - and it scared him to death. 

“Brigitte, there’s something on my mind,” he said, hoping his question wouldn’t start an argument.

Emmanuel was worried, and she could see he was fighting with himself as he spoke. “What’s wrong? Is it something I did or said? Are you having second thoughts about us?” She asked, her voice full of panic. Brigitte had been waiting for this day to come, the day when her little bubble would burst and Emmanuel would reveal he’d fallen in love with someone his age.

He began, “Last weekend when I was visiting, I found a box of condoms in your medicine cabinet. Have you been.... using them?”

Her face turned bright red, and she looked away quickly, too embarrassed to make eye contact with him. Emmanuel became lightheaded at Brigitte's reaction, wondering if his suspicions were correct. There was someone else.

“I know you aren’t ready yet, but I purchased the box hoping it would happen soon. I didn’t want us to be in the mood only to remember we didn’t have protection,” Brigitte lightened the conversation with a joke. "Not having protection in the heat of the moment is a real killer.”

He was grateful to see how prepared she was. It was his turn to be honest with her. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. I would say we are ready - but no pressure.” Swallowing hard, Emmanuel was delighted to get this off his chest and discover that their relationship was progressing at this speed. It was everything he had hoped for.

Kissing his soft lips, she made a quick decision. “Let’s see how the walk … and the rest of our evening unfolds.”

Emmanuel beamed; tonight could finally be the night things changed for them. He had waited so long for this, longer than she’d ever known, and he needed everything to go perfectly.

His shoulders felt lighter, and his heart was whole. He smiled brightly at her, catching glimpses of her beautiful face while they strolled around the city hand-in-hand. Subconsciously, they kept the walk brief, only to find themselves back at his apartment in under 15 minutes.

Taking a load off on the bed, they cuddled for several minutes until Brigitte stood up, an idea forming in her brain.

“Excuse me, I need to have a quick shower,” Brigitte mumbled as she rummaged through her personal drawer in search of the perfect outfit (the one she felt sexy and confident wearing). He quickly saw something white and lacy draped over her left arm as she took off to the bathroom, promptly locking the door behind her. His palms were sweating as he anxiously waited for her to return.

Tonight was going to be the best day of his life.

Please let me know if you’d like a second part.  

Chapter Text

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Emmanuel complimented, not believing this breathtaking woman lying naked, only an inch away, actually wanted him. Her white and lacy outfit, which she had taken so much time and effort to buy, had lasted a measly ten seconds. Once she surprised him with it, his eager hands stripped her of the one-piece garment in half the time it took her to put it on and tie it up.

Brigitte returned the compliment shortly after, unwrapping him entirely for the first time. Her eyes were greedy, never turning away or blinking as she hungrily removed each layer of his bulky clothing. She was continuously amazed as more of his perfect, tanned, and God-like skin became revealed. 

“Am I okay?” Emmanuel asked when his final body part was on display. “I think my size is average…”

“You’re perfect,” she whispered, suddenly intimidated by his length and thickness. With shaking hands, she reached out to touch him. “May I?”

He nodded, granting her full permission to do whatever she wanted to his eager body.

“Tell me what you like." With daring eyes, Brigitte began to stroke him slowly, enjoying the way he hardened in her hand. Without missing a beat, she surprised him with a quick lick to his tip, her tongue savouring every drop of his pre-cum.

"Hold on..." he commanded, suddenly changing positions so he wouldn't finish in her hand. 

Confusion took over for Brigitte when Emmanuel sank lower in the bed, gasping loudly when his nose made contact with her clit. Gripping a handful of his thick hair, she used all her strength to pull him up. “Stop! You don’t have to do that!”

Oral sex was so intimate, so personal, and Brigitte didn’t want him to start there.

Is this what he thought was expected of him? She knew couples who didn't experiment with oral sex until months into their relationship - while some opted never to do it. 

When she was finally looking at his beautiful blue eyes and not a mess of brown curls, he smiled, “I’d like to try it. If that’s okay with you?”

She appreciated what Emmanuel wanted to do for her - what woman wouldn't? - but Brigitte wanted to take things one step at a time.

After she explained herself, Emmanuel laid his head down on the pillow, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. 

“I am sorry I got carried away,” he blushed, “I just wanted to make you happy. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t eager to taste you.”

Turning on her side, she stroked him gently. “You do make me happy, more than you’d ever know, but let’s hold off on that form of intimacy.” Brigitte continued playing with him, delighted when his breathing became short, and his eyes rolled back. With her experienced touch and well-practiced techniques, it didn’t take long for Emmanuel to become fully aroused.

“Do you need help putting one on?” She asked warmly, using her free hand to grab a sealed condom package from her nightstand drawer.

He wanted her to participate, but honestly, he knew he would come prematurely if she rolled the condom on for him. Forgoing a disaster, Emmanuel shook his head and told her he could manage it alone. 

As if she were the most delicate woman in the world, he carefully and very cautiously slid into her with ease, enjoying every inch of her tightness. As he continued to push forward, he was mindful to read her facial expressions so he could pick up any clues about his performance. 

When he felt more confident, he thrust his hips as quickly as he could, still keeping a watchful eye on her. Brigitte’s breathing became louder as he drove deeper into her wetness, her legs widening for him. Emmanuel had always pictured their first time together being romantically slow, but fuck it; they would have plenty of time for sensual lovemaking. Right now, all he could focus on was how amazing she felt tightening around his cock. And how he wanted to pound her into the mattress until she begged him for more. 

Not expecting grand fireworks from someone so inexperienced, Brigitte was surprisingly impressed by his skills. She never knew things could feel this intense, this beautiful, with another human.

With a piercing scream and several curse words, it didn't take long for her to finish, while he followed shortly after, emptying himself into the condom. 

“Was everything alright?” Emmanuel whispered, blissfully overwhelmed by the entire experience, as she lazily rested her head on his chest.

“You were wonderful. I’d love to do it again with you,” she blushed, suddenly missing how he felt inside her and feeling empty without him. I'm so far gone for this man. 

Grinning, he was ready to try more things - the ideas were endless as he remembered some of the passages from the smutty book he kept under his mattress at home. They had the entire house to themselves this weekend, and, as he saw it, the night was just getting started. “I want to know everything you like, what you don’t like, and what your fantasies are.”

She cupped his face and kissed his soft lips, “All in good time. I’m in this for the long haul, Emmanuel. We don't have to rush anything tonight.”

“I am too, Chérie. You’re never getting rid of me. But, next time we’re at the store, we must buy more condoms. Your box of 10 won't be enough to last us an entire weekend. Maybe they sell them in bulk!”

“Slow down, honey! We’re not animals!” Brigitte replied with an embarrassed giggle. “We’ll look into other alternatives as well.”

“I hate to ask this while we’re naked, and you're on top of me, but what did you and your ex use?” Emmanuel asked, curious to discover why (and how) things were different between him and her former husband. 

She decided it was time to come clean with him. “Near the end of our relationship, we were practically strangers. I know it sounds like a cliché, but it's true! After we were married, we didn’t use contraceptives because we were usually doing …stuff… to grow our family. Sex was more of a means to an end rather than a pleasurable experience.”

“So, it wasn’t a frequent occurrence?”

With the loudest laugh, Brigitte replied, “You’d be surprised to discover how infrequent it was.”

“It won’t be like that with me. I promise,” Emmanuel remarked, rolling her onto her back and taking her nipple in his mouth. “Because if you haven’t noticed,” he said, biting down playfully, “I am obsessed with you. I will always come home to you.” He forced a finger through her wetness, penetrating her and adding another one as she gasped loudly. “And this is my home.” 

Chapter Text

“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet this afternoon. You’re usually quite talkative,” Didier inquired, wondering what was wrong with his friend. The always upbeat and talkative Brigitte hardly spoke more than ten words to him all day.

She led them to an outdoor bench in the palace’s yard. Brigitte felt like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and judging by his concerned face, Didier was anxious to help. Always one to listen to others, she felt safe opening up to him. He had been a true friend to her and Emmanuel, and they were grateful for his unwavering support and devotion.

Brigitte opened up to Didier about everything: the vicious rumours, the false accusations, and the overall hate the First Couple received daily.

“Come here,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder in the most comforting but extremely platonic way. Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he added, “You’re a strong woman, but everyone has their limits. I hate that you’re going through this. Is Emmanuel worth it?”

“Of course, he is. I’d walk through fire for my husband, and he’d do the same for me.”

“You don’t need to walk through fire to prove your love - you already are, Brigitte,” Didier concluded, hating to see how hurt his friend was. Deep down, he blamed Emmanuel for all the shit he put his wife through. Did he genuinely need to be President when his wife was in so much pain? Selfish! Selfish! Selfish! 

Leaning her head on Didier’s shoulder, she felt peace and solitude, and the mixture of his comforting scent helped the situation.

Quietly, when Didier heard her sobbing into his shirt, her chest heaving, he turned her cheek, letting her know it was alright to cry.

“Let it out, Brigitte. I’ve got you.”

Staring deep into each other’s eyes, they inched their bodies closer together, their lips brushing gently (tenderly at first) until Didier deepened the kiss.

It was Brigitte who pulled away first, wiping her lips clean as if this would erase the evidence of their actions.

“I’m so sorry, Brigitte,” Didier apologized, “I didn’t mean to do that. You were in great pain, and I wanted to soothe you.”

She felt sick to her stomach, scanning the windows to see if a staffer might have caught the exchange - or worse, Emmanuel.

“Perhaps you should leave,” she urged him to go home. As far as she knew, their meeting was over for the day.

The guilt was eating Brigitte alive as she sat on the couch in their private suite, waiting for her husband to bounce through the doors, always a bundle of energy after downing an espresso at the end of his work day.

She contemplated not telling him, but Emmanuel could read her better than anyone. Her bloodshot eyes were a telltale sign, and he’d be able to see, in seconds, that something was wrong.

Hearing his voice echo across the entrance, she swallowed hard and blinked away her tears, wiping the evidence with her sleeves.

“Hi Chérie! You look beautiful tonight,” he complimented, going in for a kiss but stopping immediately when he got closer. “Wait! What’s wrong? Is someone sick? You've been crying!”

“Sit down,” she whispered, ushering him to the couch.

“Brigitte, you’re scaring me. What happened?” Emmanuel asked. Her hands felt ice cold to the touch, and with a shiver, she adjusted her dress before sitting beside him.

“Talk to me, Brigitte!” He wrapped his arms protectively around her shaking body, but she pulled back, not feeling deserving of his love and kindness. 

“Did someone hurt you?” Emmanuel asked, his patience wearing thin, not taking too kindly that their evening was turning into a guessing game. He had other plans for them tonight, and it didn't include her barely speaking. 

Her voice broke when she uttered his name. “Didier…”

“What the hell did Didier do to you?!?” Emmanuel asked, ready to knock out the footballer if he had laid so much as one measly finger on his wife. 

She took a much-needed deep breath and closed her eyes. “He … We kissed. But it was nothing! We pulled away immediately. I felt vulnerable, and he comforted me - like a perfect gentleman.”

Rage and jealousy rushed through his pumping veins, and, like a caged animal ready to find his prey, he rose from the couch. 

“A perfect gentleman doesn’t kiss married women!!! Especially not my wife! Why didn't you use your voice if you were sad? We are both going through hell, Brigitte! But we're a team, and we do everything together! We always have. I know this lifestyle isn't ideal, but why wouldn't you come to me—your husband!?” Emmanuel drove his fist into the cushion. "Why the hell did you kiss him!?”

Brigitte understood his pain, and his reaction broke her heart. Had she ruined everything between them? She knew he was a jealous man whose biggest fear was losing her. And she proved his point, making his worst nightmare come true and serving it on a silver platter. No explanation or excuse could fix things, but she tried her best to make him feel better. “It meant nothing. It happened so quickly. I wasn’t even sure I was going to tell you.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? That's it! I’m sleeping in another room tonight.” Grabbing a decorative pillow off the couch, he didn’t care to stick around and hear her response. Quite frankly, there was nothing Brigitte could not say or do to fix the situation. The pain in his heart was so intense, so full of betrayal, that he couldn’t share a bed with his wife - at least not tonight. 

Chapter Text

“It will only last a week or two. I’m sure he’ll get bored in no time,” Brigitte said, confiding in a friend about her new writing partner. “Teenagers have such busy social lives now. Besides, who would want to spend every Friday night writing a play with their middle-aged teacher?”

Taking a sip of her hot tea, her friend laughed, “You’ll have to keep me updated. This student will probably show up once or twice and then make some lame excuse to leave.”

Brigitte nodded, agreeing with her friend.

When Friday afternoon rolled around, Brigitte was surprised to find him lingering outside her office. 

“Hi Emmanuel, am I late?” She asked, unzipping her bag to fetch her office key.

“No, I’m just early!” He was eager to start their first writing session, bringing several blank notebooks and pens along with him. (Not to mention spraying a few spritzes of cologne on his chest in the men's washroom 10 minutes prior).

She pulled up a secondary chair beside her desk. "Is this okay? If you sit here."

“More than okay,” he replied, opening his bag and pulling out a fresh notebook. “I look forward to our writing dates. I mean, sessions.”

“About that,” she said, sitting in her usual chair, “if you find yourself growing bored or can’t make it anymore, just be honest and tell me. I will not take it personally. I'm sure you'll make other plans soon.”

Perplexed, Emmanuel looked at her. “Why would I become bored? I am looking forward to hanging out with you every week. Actually, I was wondering if you had any new book suggestions for me. Unless you wanted to keep the conversation strictly about playwriting.”

When she giggled, he couldn’t help but stare, her laughter brightening his day instantly. “What’s so funny? Did I say something wrong?”

“We’re going to spend a lot of time together every Friday. I’m sure our conversations will veer off-topic a few times,” Brigitte concluded, subconsciously touching his knee. She felt comfortable around him. Something about the way he spoke made him come off as a genuinely kind soul. 

They continued to meet every Friday for several months, and neither missed a session. 

This particular Friday - April 13th - was not just any ordinary day, and Emmanuel was excitedly bouncing off the walls. Secretly and safely tucked deep inside his backpack, he had a birthday gift for her. He was confident she would cancel, but he was pleasantly surprised when Brigitte told him the session was still on. 

“Happy birthday!” He cheered when she closed her office door behind them.

Beaming, she couldn’t believe he remembered such a meaningless occasion (at least to her, it was just another day getting older). 

Brigitte’s birthday wasn’t something she advertised—especially not to students. She couldn't remember telling him and was even more surprised when he tore open the zipper on his backpack and presented her with an expertly wrapped box.

“What’s this?” Brigitte asked, completely caught off guard that he thought enough of their friendship to buy a gift. 

Confidently, he handed the box over, “You’ll see when you open it!”

Brigitte smiled bashfully and whispered, “You really shouldn’t have,” as she delicately pulled apart the scotch tape. He was a student with no money. How could he afford something like this?

“It's a …. bound version of Madame …. Bovary,” Brigitte squealed, hardly finding her voice to express her thoughts. She held the beautifully covered book close to her heart, overwhelmed that he had remembered it was her favourite piece of literature.

Emmanuel didn’t speak; instead, he allowed everything to sink in, visibly aware of how stunned she was.

“I completely understand if you want to end this writing session early. I’m sure you have a birthday party to attend,” Emmanuel stated. “Laurence told me she and her siblings gave you a gift this morning,” Emmanuel added. “So, if your husband planned something for just the two of you, we can call it a night and resume next week.”

She shook her head. No party, fancy dinner, or arrangements had been made. There was nowhere else she had to be. Correct that; there was nowhere else she’d rather be. 

Chapter Text

After an exhausting day of smiling and shaking hands with hundreds of strangers, Brigitte came home with only one thing on her mind - to shower and wash away the day.

She discarded a piece of clothing every several feet until she was finally standing naked in front of the bathroom sink. Taking a deep breath, Brigitte grabbed her favourite shower gel from the cabinet and stepped into the shower.

She spent fifteen minutes longer than usual scrubbing her body clean and washing her shoulder-length blonde hair with the utmost care.

“Chérie! I’m home!” Emmanuel called out, wondering where his wife was. Her purse and shoes were scattered across the entryway as tripping hazards, her coat was thrown on the back of the couch, and the red cashmere scarf he bought her for Christmas was two seconds away from being Nemo’s new chew toy.

Lifting the garment and bringing it close to his nose, Emmanuel didn’t expect to smell such a potent masculine odour coming off it.

He knew this cologne; he had smelled it many times before, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint who it belonged to - or better yet, why his wife's scarf reeked of it.

He trusted his wife; that fact wasn’t up for debate, but his mind raced through several dark scenarios, trying to figure out why Brigitte’s scarf smelled like another man.

Why was she showering? Why was the bathroom door locked? It was unlike his wife to rinse herself in the middle of the day.

What the hell did she do?

“Emmanuel! You scared me!” Brigitte screamed, exiting the bathroom with only a tiny towel wrapped securely around her body. “I didn’t expect you home at four in the afternoon!”

“Your scarf smells,” he remarked coldly, holding the designer garment between his fingers.

“Like what?” She asked defensively, grabbing it from his hand and placing it under her nose. “Oh! I know what happened!”

He folded his arms across his chest, ready to hear what explanation she would come up with. He was not a fool. This scarf was drenched in the scent of another man.

“I’m listening,” he said, wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt. This was his wife he was talking to: his best friend, his #1 supporter, and the president of his fan club. She would never betray him.

“Don’t look at me as though I let another man get so close to me that the scent of his cologne would rub off on my clothing!” Brigitte defended herself against the ridiculous speculations.

“Then explain why you needed to hop in the shower when you came home?” Emmanuel asked, anxiously waiting for her side of the story.

Brigitte rolled her eyes at his absurd question and tossed her iPhone at his chest. “Call Fabian. He’ll explain everything. I’ll be in our bedroom waiting for your much-deserved apology.”

Listening closely, she could hear his voice travelling through the walls. He agreed and sympathized with everything her guard told him. Only when the conversation was finally over—and Fabian had cleared the air—did he fully understand the situation.

“So?” Brigitte sat smugly on their bed, smirking when Emmanuel walked into the room with his tail between his legs.

“Fabian told me the entire story,” Emmanuel whispered, feeling ashamed for even doubting his wife the way he did.

Fabian had been kind enough to put Brigitte’s scarf in his backpack when, accidentally, his cologne bottle had leaked profusely on her garment.

“I think you owe me an apology,” Brigitte grinned, spreading her legs open seductively. “And I get to choose how you’ll make it up to me.”

He was ready to face the fire, willing to do anything she wanted, but it would feel like no punishment at all.

Silly woman, if only she knew how much I loved doing this for her. 

Chapter Text

Like all good things, this visit was rapidly coming to an end. Before he had realized it, time had flown by from the moment he pulled her into his side gently while they spoke, waiting for the King and Queen’s arrival, to this moment where he found himself with an excuse to hold her again, his hands squeezing her sides gently as they traded spots to sign at the visitor book. He couldn’t help himself as he grinned, unashamed, and he was sure a little goofy, as he watched her sign her name, his name, to live in this piece of history forever. They were a team, a partnership, a unit, and for the last seventeen happiest years of his life, the Macrons. He was her and she was him, then, now, and always.

He sighed internally as the four made their way to the exit for the final photos and goodbyes, knowing what came next - three long days away from her until he could finally come home. He gripped her hand tightly once they were seated in their car speeding back towards Paris, memorizing the feel of the brush of her thumb against his knuckles as she tried to soothe him, the silence comfortable if heavy as they soaked in the warmth that came from simply being together.

They were left in the back seat for a moment, given one last moment of privacy to say goodbye before he was whisked off to his waiting plane and she was driven further closer to home. As soon as the driver’s door had shut, the echo still ringing in his ears, he pressed his lips firmly, passionately against hers, trying to squeeze in enough of their love to hold them over for the next three days, failing miserably at covering the preemptive breaking of his heart.

He hated leaving her at any time of year, but there was always something about the week of their anniversary which made parting that much more painful. There was something about this week that made him hold her a little harder, a little longer, long for her that much stronger, as if no amount of her was enough. Even the reminder that this year they were fortunate enough to spend their whole anniversary weekend together wasn’t enough to soothe the restlessness he was feeling at the thought of leaving his heart behind as soon as he left her embrace.

"Sir, Madame!" They heard a staffer call through the door after a particularly loud series of knocks, the sign that their fleeting little time alone here was officially up. With a heavy heart and one last kiss she forced herself to stop before they would both be late to their next engagements.

"I don’t want to go," he whispered, his forehead resting gently against hers, refusing to separate any further from her.

"I know, mon cœur. But you have to," she reassured.

"Why did I ever take this job?" He whined.

With a laugh, she pulled back kindly, "I don’t know. I ask myself that a lot."

"I’m sorry -"

"No. None of that now," she stopped him before he could sink into an even worse mood. She paused for a minute, before she gently let go of his hands, grabbing the scarf around her neck and with a flourish, looping it around his. "Keep this safe for me until you come home."

"I will keep it with me at all times," he smiled broadly, excited to have this small something of her with him.

"I am always with you," she promised pressing one last gentle kiss to lips. "No matter how far you go from me, my heart is always in your hands."

“I love you so much, Brigitte,” he replied, knowing the words were insufficient to fully convey truly how he felt for her.

“I love you more, mon cœur.”

Chapter Text

Buried deep in his paperwork, he didn’t realize what time it was until he heard knocking on his office door.

“Chéri! It’s me!”

His face lit up upon hearing his wife’s voice, inviting her to enter immediately. Emmanuel hadn’t seen her since breakfast (when they were still glowing from their passionate evening), so now, he was dying for his Brigitte Fix.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful!” Emmanuel beamed, checking her out intensely. She was a vision in a white, crisp dress shirt and skin-tight blue jeans.

Brigitte blushed before taking a seat in her usual spot - his lap.

Nuzzling his nose in her neck, Emmanuel smiled, inhaling her familiar scent. Moving her face slightly, his lips met hers, and she felt him harden through his pants.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Brigitte's cheeks reddened with passion. Unfortunately, she knew he had an important meeting in 15 minutes, and this was only supposed to be a social visit.

Emmanuel smirked, popping the bottom of her jeans, laughing when he saw her embarrassment. After all these decades together, he found it adorable whenever she blushed at his handsy behaviour. 

“What are you doing?” Brigitte whispered ever so softly like there were others in the room. 

Rubbing his fingers over her silk panties, Emmanuel smirked proudly when she arched her back.

“Mmm… that feels good,” she complimented, already feeling weak from his touch. She ached for her husband, but this was risky. Anyone of their staff members could walk through the door and catch them. Brigitte remembered the embarrassing button incident, and there was no way she would go down that path again. The stunned look on the guards’ faces was enough to keep her running in the opposite direction for over a week. 

When he moved his sneaky hand inside her bra, she had no choice but to swat it away. “Not here! Not now!”

“Why not?” Emmanuel frowned, growing frustrated. Why couldn’t he make out with his wife in his office? 

Brigitte cupped his chin, and with a coy smile, she kissed his tender lips. “Because someone could walk in any second. We’re adults, not teenagers sneaking around. We need to behave! You do know who you are, don't you? ”

Hopping off his lap, Brigitte adjusted her shirt and pants, ensuring she looked presentable before slipping back into her heels. “I’ll see you tonight. In our bedroom, we can be as naked and daring as you’d like. Perhaps we can repeat our workout from last night. I love it when you're on top - the view is spectacular.  Until then, be good, and I love you.”

“You can’t say that and walk away!!”

“Just watch me!” She laughed, swaying her hips as she headed toward the door.

Emmanuel’s eyes followed her closely, never breaking eye contact with her perfect ass. She successfully escaped, and he rolled his eyes playfully when she heard him tell a staffer, “Give him a few minutes before going inside.”  

Chapter Text

With great trepidation, Emmanuel kissed his girlfriend for good luck and promised to return in less than an hour.

Brigitte wanted to be the one to drive him to his driving test and was sad when her schedule prevented her from doing it the first time. It was Brigitte who consoled him after failing and encouraged him to try again. Jokingly, she even claimed she’d bring him luck this time.

As she sat in the driver’s seat, watching him walk inside the test center, she felt overwhelmingly nervous for him. He has to pass. He has to.

Remembering she brought a book to pass the time, Brigitte removed it from her purse and began to read while she waited. A gentle tap on the driver’s side window made her jump out of her skin. There stood Emmanuel, flashing the world’s largest smile.

She unlocked the passenger door and watched as he fell into the seat, the weight of the world finally off his shoulders.

“I take it you passed?” Brigitte asked. His energy was magnetic as he showed her the temporary piece of paper. 

“I sure did!” He beamed, feeling pride and excitement that the second time was the charm. “Wait until I start driving you around everywhere!”

Leaning over to hug him, she couldn’t help but feel honoured that she could share this memorable day with him. Getting a driver's license was a huge deal in every person's life. 

“Now, I must buy a very spacious vehicle, Brigitte!” Emmanuel exclaimed, ready to start vehicle shopping. “This weekend, I’ll find the perfect family car!”

She looked at him, perplexed and slightly worried. “For what?” They had discussed the possibility of having children together; however, they both agreed that was a non-issue. They would love the children they were already blessed with.

“Well, we have a large family. I want to be able to drive everyone around! I can take Tiphaine to her riding lessons!”

“You think I’ll let you - a new driver - shuttle my daughter around town? She’s precious cargo!” Brigitte responded, sucking in her breath.

He pulled back, frustrated. “You don’t trust me?” Emmanuel asked, hurt that his girlfriend had zero faith in him. He passed, didn’t he? What more did Brigitte want? He'd been in the passenger seat of her ride countless times - she wasn't some expert driver behind the wheel. 

Not one to keep a straight face, she let out the loudest laugh, “I’m teasing you! I trust you with my entire life.”

He joined her in laughter and, grabbing her hand, kissed it, grateful for everything in his life—most of all, her. 

Chapter Text

She couldn’t stay up.

She always did, waiting for her husband to enter their private suite, but tonight, she was making an exception.

Brigitte was exhausted from her day of interviews, and rather than stay up to wait for him, she fell asleep with the light on and a book on her chest.

It was 1 o'clock in the morning when he finally made it up to their bedroom. Emmanuel tiptoed around the bed when he heard her snoring softly, removing the book and setting it on her end table.

After stripping down to just his boxers, Emmanuel slipped under the sheets and joined his wife, who still hadn’t woken up.

“Goodnight Chérie,” he whispered, kissing her gently on her cheek so as not to wake her.

She squirmed herself awake, turning her nose up at the awful odour that accompanied her husband.

“You smell terrible,” she groaned, sitting up in bed and adjusting a pillow in front of her face to block the overwhelming scent. 

“Terrible? Why?” He asked, quickly sniffing his body to see if he needed a shower. 

Brigitte hated it when he smoked cigars during his late-night meetings. It was bad for his health; it looked bad in front of their grandchildren (whenever pictures were released), and the smell was horrible, often lingering for hours. 

She frowned, not needing to explain herself any further. He knew where she stood on it. 

“How was your meeting?” Brigitte asked sarcastically, still blocking her nose with the pillow. “Strictly business as usual?”

“I’ll go brush my teeth,” Emmanuel hung his head in shame.

He returned 5 minutes later, apologetic and ready for kisses.

“I’ll never stop you from smoking cigars, but you know I don’t like that you do it. So, please have the decency not to bring that smell into our bed,” Brigitte spoke softly. He wasn't a child, so he didn't need to be scolded. 

Emmanuel held her close to his warm body and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight Chérie, I love you.”

He waited for her response but panicked when Brigitte didn't say it back. “Chérie? I love you…”

“Chérie?”

She giggled, “You really don’t let up - I love you too!” 

Chapter Text

"Oh that’s it!" She thought to herself in frustration seeing the minute hand on her watch tick towards the thirty minute mark. Thirty minutes. She had been waiting for him to come home, to come to their precious dinner time, for thirty minutes. And she was beyond livid.

She is used to him always being late, even with her. So when five minutes had passed, she sighed, but picked up her phone to send a gentle reminder, a simple "dinner is ready, chéri. xo" message just to make sure he knew. She grew a little more frustrated at the ten minute mark when there had been no reply to her message nor reassuring sound of his familiar footfall on their way through the apartment to her. By the fifteen minute mark, she had enlisted the help of Nemo, asking him to go play fetch and return with his Papa. But when Nemo returned empty pawed with sad eyes and a sadder whine, she knew more drastic action needed to be taken.

She gets it, really, she does. Things have been incredibly hard for him lately. She has felt the way his enemies circle more now, like vultures ready to pick over his still breathing, still fighting carcass. She too has felt the cold sting of rejection as they have been left alone by so many people she thought were true friends, only to find out in their time of need they saw them as nothing more than politically expedient stepping stools on their own paths to power. And she knows her brilliant man, her idealistic fighter, was having a hard time coming to grips with the new political reality as he was forced to step back from so many of the things he still wanted to do.

But that is what made their time together all the more sacred, all the more essential. If all they had was each other, then she needs to be his priority, damnit!

Not even bothering to slip her heels back on, she marched straight out of their apartment towards the office she knew he was in this time of the night. She swung open the door with force, delighting a little in the way he startled back from his desk at the action.

"If you don’t come now, you can sleep on the couch," she said simply, angrily, turning her back on him and walking home. She was done, and she wanted him to know it.

Emmanuel sighed as she left, realizing it had been a while since she had been that mad at him. "Shit, I’ve screwed up," he thought as he pushed back from his desk to follow her.

"I’m sorry, chérie," he said sincerely when he caught up with her in the hallway, gently grabbing her elbow for her attention. "I got carried away."

"I get that you have plenty of pressing things on your to do list, Emmanuel. I’m not some spoiled brat who nags at you. I’m your wife. I am the woman you claim to love more than anything else in this world -"

"You are! Brigitte, you are everything. You are my everything," he was quick to interrupt.

"Then fucking come to dinner on time!" She yelled. "I’m sorry," she apologized, swiping at the angry tears that had gathered in her eyes. "I’m just so frustrated."

"No, I deserve that. I was an ass earlier."

"I just want to spend time with you. You’re my best friend, you’re the man that I love. I already don’t have enough time with you. And now I am lonely, Emmanuel. Everyone has abandoned us now. It’s just you, and me, and our family. So please, don’t leave me hanging for dinner. Go back to work after we eat if you have to, but please. Just give me my hour with you. One hour."

"Oh, chérie," his heart broke as he wrapped her in his arms, cursing himself for making her feel this way, and even worse, not catching that he had. "I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I will do better. I promise. Please, don’t cry," he soothed. "Please, I love you, mon cœur."

"I love you too," she replied, muffled into his chest where she had buried her face, taking in the last lingering scent of his perfume. "That’s why this hurts so much."

"I’ll do better. I swear. But you must be starving. Let’s go eat."

"I’m not hungry," Brigitte pouted even as she pulled back to allow him to grab her hand in his, walking them the final distance back down the hallway to their apartment.

"You still need to eat, chérie. I need you to take care of yourself. Come on. I’m sure whatever you made is delicious."

"It’s cold."

"I’ll heat it up in the microwave. Go sit down," he commanded, placing a gentle lingering kiss on her forehead as he pulled back, nudging her towards the dining table as he went into the kitchen.

The knot forming in his stomach sank deeper when he looked down at the two plates she had left on the counter, the evidence of what she had made for them tonight. His favorite meal, something he knows she hates, just to please him, and he kept her waiting. He sighed as he heard the mechanical whiz of the microwave, working to reheat her hard work, realizing just how badly he had screwed this all up. She never wanted this, never asked anything of him except for him to love her for as long as they both lived, like he vowed seventeen years ago, and here he was mad at the world and pouting like a toddler, inadvertently taking it out on the one he loved and needed the most.

He would do better, he would be better. She deserved it.

Chapter Text

"What are you smiling about?" Brigitte asked wearily when he sauntered up to the dinner table, his hands clasped behind his back like he was hiding something.

"I planned Honnfleur this year!" He announced proudly, pulling the folder with the weekend’s itinerary from behind his back and presenting it to her with a flourish!

"You what?" She asked, her brow pinched in confusion. They had a state visit next week, they had talked about not even going this year because of all the things this month and next- when did he have the time to do all this?

"Well, I got some help," Emmanuel admitted, ashamed he was not the Wonder Woman his wife was: running her charities, teaching, planning state visits, hosting dinners, taking care of their family, and planning these trips to take care of him. "But I did it! I booked our hotel and several surprises for you! Look!"

She scanned the page quickly - couples massage? A special wine tasting? He rented a boat?

"You rented a boat?" She asked, looking up from the page.

"Well, since this year, the boat race isn’t leaving from the harbor, and since the weather last year meant we missed the race, and I know how much you love seeing those little boats, I pulled a few strings and got us a boat for a night. Don’t worry! Someone who actually knows how to steer it is included."

"And to think, I might enjoy watching you attempt to control a mast," Brigitte chuckled slightly at the image over the emotion caught in her throat.

"Yeah, but our guards wouldn’t love having to swim out to us to drag the boat back to the dock when I got us stuck," he laughed in reply.

"No, I suppose not," she agreed, smiling back up at him. "This is really thoughtful. Thank you."

"It’s the least I could do for you, chérie," he said simply as he leaned down for a kiss before taking his seat next to her at the table.

"I just know we talked about the fact we might be too busy to go -"

"We’re going. We’ve gone practically every year since we’ve been together. That’s our place. There’s nothing and no one that could stop us! Now, what did you make tonight? It smells delicious!"

He frowned as the stared at the empty suitcase at his feet the night before their departure as he stared at his half of the closet, trying to decide what to pack for this trip. "Which jeans are the ones that chérie loves my ass in again?" He asked to himself as he quickly moved through the pairs hanging on the rack, already picturing the feel of her warm palm in his pocket, pressed against the fabric and cupping him firmly as they strolled down their favorite beach. "Is this sweater too tight?" He wondered as he pulled it out and held it against himself, wanting to show off for her the muscles underneath he had been working on in his training sessions all year, tempting those magic fingers to trail over them again and again until she was stripping off his shirt and -

"You doing okay in there?" The thought was cutoff by the genuine concern in her voice.

"I’m fine!" He called back, slightly embarrassed.

"Chéri, it’s four days, and it’s just me. Throw warm enough clothes in there. I won’t be offended if nothing matches."

"No," he whined as he saw her stick her head in. "I want to look good for you!"

"Well that is a problem," she bowed her head, playing at solemnity, but actually trying to hide her smile.

"Thank you!" He interrupted, feeling vindicated she saw where he was coming from.

"We can’t have you walking around naked all weekend," she finished her thought, raising her head again to delight in the blush that rapidly spread across his cheeks.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Madame Macron?" He asked with a teasing smile when he finally recovered.

"I don’t know, is it working?" She asked as she approached him, gently wrapping her arms around his neck while his circled her waist.

"Always," he promised.

"I mean it though," she followed up more sincerely. "I don’t care what you’re wearing. I’m just looking forward to three and a half uninterrupted whole days together."

"I am too," he smiled softly in return. "Now you got to let me pack if you want us to leave on time."

"Am I that much of a distraction, Monsieur Macron?" She teased as she slipped out of his arms.

"You know you are," he growled a little as he watched her hips swing while she walked away. "She is going to be the death of me one day," he thought to himself as he shook his head out, turning his attention back to the wall of clothes.

He was giddy, that was the best way she could describe it as they pulled up in front of the hotel. The way he was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he checked them in, his excited small talk as he checked them in, it reminded her of that time 17 years ago when their life was far simpler when he first walked up to that hotel reservation desk and announced: "my wife and I have reservation under Macron."

Of course simpler didn’t necessarily mean better. As her thumb brushed against the back of his hand as he held tightly on to hers down the hallway, taking advantage of the bell hop delivering their luggage to their room, feeling the lines on his skin that come with age and hard won wisdom, she thought about how much deeper, how much richer their life was now, their love was now. As she felt the cold replace his hand at her side as he let go to tip the bell hop, a handshake and a selfie too, she centered herself, focused herself back on the beaming smile he sent back her way, on the promise that no matter how hard and lonely a moment feels, she can trust him to always catch her when she falls.

"You ready?" He asked when they were finally alone again, walking up into her and scooping her tightly into his arms.

"What’s up first?" She asked, noticing as she glanced out the window the light had fully faded from sunset, painting the sky in a rich dark hue.

"You’ll see," he teased gently stealing a quick kiss, delighting at her protesting whine when he pulled back. "Make sure you’re bundled up enough, beautiful. Can’t have you getting sick from the cold."

She laughed. "I’m fine!"

"Mhmmm, I don’t know," he pulled back like he was studying her. "Something is missing," he declared, turning around to find his bag in the corner, digging out a little bag, the gift wrapping a little damaged in the transit. "Here!" He offered brightly.

"What did you do?" She asked as she reached inside the tissue paper, her fingers wrapping around soft fabric, gently pulling out a new scarf. "This is beautiful, chéri."

"You like it?" He asked hopefully, even after all these years worried he didn’t actually know her taste as well as he thought he did.

"I love it. Put it on me?"

"It’s not a necklace!"

"Indulge me, please."

"Well, when you say it like that, how can I say no?" He smiled as he gently looped the wool around her neck, making sure she was well covered before grabbing her hand to pull her out the suite, Brigitte giggling giddy behind.

"Your chariot, Madame," Emmanuel teased with a smile as he offered his hand to steady her as she stepped on to the boat. His smile grew wider as he watched the joy, like the string lights, twinkle in her eyes. He could think of nothing more beautiful than his wife when she was happy. The way she glows, and how lucky he is that she glows for him.

Brigitte was silent as she took in her surroundings - the way someone had strung the lights around the mast, the comfortable cushions and pillows piled up on the floor of the boat’s cabin, her favorite champagne chilling in an iced silver bucket.

"Wow," she marveled aloud. "You did all this for me?"

"I know that things have been hard and lonely lately. Harder and lonelier lately I should say, but I love you. More than anything, Brigitte, you deserve everything good and pure because you are so so good. I swear, chérie, I will do better because you deserve that of me. You deserve so much better than me. But I will do my best to be worthy of you."

"Mon cœur," Brigitte whispered almost pained at the hurt in his eyes, "I don’t need anyone or anything else but you. Just you."

"That doesn’t feel like enough," he objected.

"Let me be the judge that," she smiled at him, slipping her palms gently grab his cheeks, pulling him in towards her until she could kiss him deeply. Separating slightly, when the need for air grew too great, she gently rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed while she smiled wide, breathlessly adding, "oh yes. You’re definitely all I need."

Chapter Text

He had already spent 9 hours and 4 minutes on this three-day trip without her.

Emmanuel hated these mandatory visits to different continents, but they were part of his job, and after seven years, he was finally getting used to them. However, it didn’t make going—and being away from her—any easier.

There was nothing like sleeping next to your spouse in your own bed in your own room. Emmanuel felt like they had already spent too many years apart at the beginning of their relationship. He didn’t like doing it now unless it was necessary.

It didn’t take him long to fall asleep, thinking only about his wife as he closed his eyes. He had been feeling nostalgic lately, remembering the night of his wedding as he drifted to dreamland.

“I’ve waited all day to get you alone,” Emmanuel confessed, pushing her wedding dress to her waist to reveal Brigitte’s surprise for him— cream-coloured panties that left nothing to the imagination.

“Why did you stop?” She shrieked, embarrassed that her husband of only 8 hours seemed to be in a dazed state.

He gently pulled her panties down and grinned, “I didn’t stop. I’m taking you all in. My God, you’re beautiful, Brigitte.”

She relaxed again, raking her nails down his back, “It’s all yours, baby. Always and forever.”

With that, he dove between her legs, teasing and licking until she …..

“Shit! Shit!” Emmanuel woke up flushed and frustrated, running his hands through his dishevelled hair just as his dream reached the good part. The obvious tent forming under the thin bed sheet required him to take matters into his own hands (literally).

He was so close - so very close to finishing - when he was interrupted by the obnoxious ringing from his cell phone. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t ignore it because whoever was on the other line was persistent.

Using a free hand, Emmanuel reached for his iPhone, forgoing a glance at the screen’s caller ID. “WHAT?” He yelled, ready to cuss out the person intruding on his business.

“If you’re going to be rude to me, I’ll just hang up now,” Brigitte responded.

“NO! NO! Chérie! I didn’t know it was you! I’m so sorry!” Emmanuel apologized profusely, feeling like a fool.

She calmed down slightly, “Are you okay? Did I catch you at a bad time? How didn’t you know it was me?”

Emmanuel rubbed his eyes, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I didn’t look at the screen before answering it.”

Because Brigitte knew her husband very well, she knew when he was lying. “You answered the phone, ready to bite my head off! Please don’t lie to me. What’s wrong? Are you not alone?”

“Of course I’m alone! I’m in my hotel room,” Emmanuel snapped, annoyed at his wife for assuming otherwise.

“So, then tell me what’s wrong,” Brigitte pleaded, ignoring his tone.

He took a deep breath, still semi-excited down below. “I was asleep and dreaming about our wedding night.”

She interrupted him, “And that put you in a bad mood?”

“No! I woke up hot and flustered… and… you know…. So, I was taking care of myself when you called.”

She whispered, “Oh! I ruined the mood. I see…”

“That’s why I was frustrated when the phone rang. I was close to finishing,” Emmanuel admitted, with no hint of embarrassment. This was his wife, after all.

“Well, I don’t need to leave our bed for another fifteen minutes. How about I help you finish?” Brigitte smirked into the phone. “Get back into position.”

“You’re serious? You’d do this for me?” Emmanuel asked, wrapping a hand around his hardness.

“Maybe I’ll join in on the fun,” she giggled, removing her nightshirt as she spoke sensually into the microphone. “So, tell me more about this sexy dream of yours….” 

Chapter Text

He sat in bed, impatiently waiting for his girlfriend to join him.

Every weekend they spent together was a glimpse into their future—a future where they would not have to wait until Friday night to share a bed. Due to circumstances out of his control, she was still married to another man—even if it was in name only. 

He had no idea what was keeping her from his warm bed. It was 1 AM, and his only wish was for his gorgeous girlfriend to wrap her long legs possessively around his body while they slept blissfully naked. Typically, it was Emmanuel who kept Brigitte waiting, refusing to turn off the bedside lamp while doing everything he could to prolong their short time together, but tonight, things were different. 

With a clean towel draped over her arm, Brigitte yelled from the hallway: “Chéri! I’m going to take a quick shower. I won’t be gone for more than ten minutes.”

He pulled the covers back and leaped out of bed, tracking her down before she disappeared inside the bathroom. “Why do you need to wash yourself now? It’s late. Just come to bed!”

“You look exhausted, Emmanuel. Go wait for me; I promise I’ll be done shortly,” Brigitte replied, kissing his lips tenderly. "My hair smells like smoke from the bonfire." 

He closed his eyes, only to rest them momentarily, when he heard something pique his interest. Curiosity got the better of him as he explored the situation.

“Ohh… God, yes! Mmm….” Brigitte moaned in the shower, massaging her soapy breasts as she increased the temperature of the water to the point where it became unbearably hot. She needed a free hand to steady herself against the wall as she guided the detachable shower head between her thighs. Allowing the forceful water pressure to pleasure her area, Brigitte closed her eyes and savoured the moment. She wouldn’t last long (she never did) when she thought about him. “Mmm…YES! Mmm. Oooh, Chéri! Just like that. YES!”

Emmanuel quietly opened the door and observed the scene, suddenly feeling like he was invading her privacy. He only wanted to catch a quick glimpse but found it impossible to look away. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before. He took solace, knowing she would have done the same if it was him in the shower. 

Even though Brigitte’s body was facing the opposite direction, he could still see what she was doing through the steam. The shower head was pulsating as she rested one leg on the side of the tub, deepening the sensation as she explored different angles.

Why is she doing this alone? I am ready, willing and able to satisfy her every need. She just had to ask!!

Not wanting to be caught spying, Emmanuel tip-toed back to his room. Once he heard the water shut off, he pretended to be asleep.

“Goodnight, Emmanuel,” she gently kissed his cheek and slid into position beside him. 

Opening his eyes, he frowned, “I’m awake.”

She knew by the tone of his voice that something was wrong. Turning on the lamp, Brigitte exhaled as she turned to face him. “Are you alright? I assumed you were asleep.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, Emmanuel shook his head. “Why didn’t you ask me to join you? You know how much I love showering with you.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Brigitte could murmur. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him in the shower (in fact, she loved it when he joined her). Unfortunately, tonight, she had only planned on washing her hair, but as she thought about him lying naked between the silky black sheets, she needed to release the sexual arousal burning between her legs. If Emmanuel had known what she did, where she had put his shower head while she imagined his face there instead, he would have been even more hurt… Luckily, her secret was safe with her (or so she thought).

“Goodnight, Brigitte,” Emmanuel replied, holding her close. He couldn’t lose her; if that meant jumping into the shower the next time she went in, he would. Emmanuel would be the man she needed, even if she weren’t brave enough to always ask. He wouldn’t allow this relationship to turn into her previous one. 

Chapter Text

He had promised to love her in sickness and in health, vowed to be faithful to her every day, and promised to cherish her until death parted them.

They said their vows before their family and friends, but things were very different and more intense behind closed doors. In front of their closest loved ones, he hadn’t vowed to give his bride endless orgasms and treat her like the sexual Goddess she is. He saved that sacred speech for when they were alone that night.

“When you told me every day was going to be an adventure, I didn’t think this is what you had in mind,” Brigitte giggled, sipping bubbly liquid out of the crystal flute he had generously poured for her.

It was their third night together as a married couple, and even though they had to wait to embark on their Italian honeymoon, they were still treating these nights in a five-star Paris hotel as though they were countries away from home.

“Put it on the ledge and get back here,” he demanded, missing how his new bride had felt against his skin before she cheekily swam away.

“Don’t make me drag you across this hot tub and back into your rightful spot in my arms,” Emmanuel threatened half-jokingly.

Brigitte carefully placed the champagne flute next to her discarded white bikini top before floating back to him.

“Sit!” He demanded, pointing to his lap.

Getting comfortable in her favourite spot, she nuzzled his neck, moaning when her sensitive nipples rubbed against his hairy chest.

She covered her mouth when she laughed, the effects of the champagne taking over and making her giddy.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she apologized with a giggle when her hand swiped against his arousal. The bubbles in the hot tub made seeing anything under the water virtually impossible.

Grabbing her legs, he maneuvered them around his waist so that they were now sitting face to face.

“Come here,” Brigitte whispered, kissing him so passionately that she swore he’d never forget this moment.

He was breathless when she pulled away, the need for oxygen becoming too great for their lungs.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Emmanuel purred, knowing he’d never get enough of her. His wife could be by his side every single day, every moment of every day, and it would never be enough. 

Without hesitation, knowing they were both ready, she lowered herself onto him, finally feeling full when she couldn’t go deeper. Arching her back, she allowed herself a few seconds to adjust to his size. 

“This view is better than anything in this world,” he said, thrusting his hips to match her speed while her breasts bounced in his face. “I am the luckiest bastard alive right now.”

Emmanuel was very close, and he wanted them to finish simultaneously. Dipping his hand into the water, he used his skillful fingers to help her come for him just as he liked it: loud, carefree, and seeing stars.

“Oh my God!!!” She screamed, her body collapsing against his as the entire world around her went blurry.

When their heart rates returned to normal, they settled against the hot tub wall, blissful smiles spreading across their cheeks.

“I hope our lives stay like this forever,” Brigitte whispered, half expecting Emmanuel not to hear her deepest desire.

“It will be. I promise,” Emmanuel confessed, knowing he would never break his marriage vows - traditional and non-traditional - to her. 

Chapter Text

They were beaming with excitement. It wasn’t every day that their young granddaughter spent the entire weekend with her favourite grandparents. Brigitte was getting the house ready while her husband had mysteriously left for an hour with the promise that he'd return with "goodies" for the sleepover. 

“Chéri, what is all of this stuff?!” Brigitte laughed when Emmanuel burst through the front door carrying a brand-new comforter, three large pillows, and silk bed sheets.

“I bought our little one cute bunny bedding! Look! Chérie, everything is pink!” Emmanuel beamed proudly, showing off the pattern.

She shook her head lovingly at her husband’s grand gesture. “She’s staying over for 2 nights! There's nothing wrong with the ones we bought last year!”

He gasped, “Plain white ones! She deserves the best!”

“Emmanuel, she’s three years old! And she has slept over many times before! Even though it’s not as often as we’d like…” Brigitte trailed off, wishing they saw their little granddaughter more frequently than they did. Once a week for Sunday dinner wasn’t enough. Now, she was at a fun age, discovering and getting into everything around the house.

Emmanuel and Brigitte couldn’t wait for the day when more grandkids blessed their family, but until then, they were obsessed with the one they had. She was perfect.

Emmanuel and Brigitte leaped from the couch when the doorbell rang, signalling their overnight guest's arrival.

“I feel like chop liver,” their oldest daughter joked when the eager couple scooped the toddler in their arms, passing her back and forth and smothering her with endless kisses.

“Say goodbye to your Maman!” Emmanuel said, playfully waving with their granddaughter’s hand.

After kissing her daughter’s cheek, Brigitte spoke, “We got this! Enjoy your romantic weekend with your husband, and do not rush back to pick her up!”

When the door closed, Brigitte and Emmanuel pulled out all the stops for their special visitor.

The aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies filled the kitchen while Emmanuel read to her in the living room. When the cookies were devoured, and not even a crumb remained, the couple put her to bed. They had a full day of activities to look forward to in the morning, and their agenda was full of park visits, swimming, and a trip to the museum.

“May I sleep with you, Mamie and Daddy?” The little one asked, her big blue eyes staring into their souls. “Please!” She stood patiently in their bedroom doorway, a fuzzy blanket dragging behind her.

Even though they had gone through the trouble of updating the guest room, they couldn’t tell her no.

Lifting the girl off the floor, Emmanuel carried her to their large bed, placing her gently in the center. 

“She looks so tiny, Chérie!” Emmanuel pointed out, his heart growing even bigger for this precious little miracle. “Once she falls asleep - which shouldn’t be much longer - I’ll move her back to the other room."

Brigitte set her necklace on the vanity table, whispering extra-quietly before protesting. “We can’t do that. What if she wakes up scared, expecting to see us?”

Emmanuel didn’t want to come off like a whiny child, but he needed his wife. Thinking back to the days when he could only sleep with Brigitte on weekends, sadness crept back into his heart, and he sighed. It was only for a weekend that they were entertaining their precious granddaughter. He'd survive. 

“Okay, Chérie,” he agreed, “she can sleep between us tonight.” The two watched with pride and unconditional love as she slept in their bed.

It didn’t take long for his wife to fall asleep, a protective arm wrapped around their little one. He wondered if this was how she looked with her own children when they were this age. 

He wasn't around back then, but he promised himself that he'd never miss a moment with his beautiful family in the future. 

Chapter Text

"Brigitte?" He asked softly one night after dinner, when they were curled up on the couch, tightly cuddled up with one another, a thought that had been percolating for some time now.

He had noticed a particular sadness in her eyes at the last funeral they had attended together. He knew that she was close to the man whose life they were celebrating, whose loss they were marking, but he knew that wasn’t enough to fully explain the sadness in her eyes. He knew it was something more, especially when he could feel the way her hand gripped a little harder onto his arm as they watched row after row line up to take the holy communion.

"Yes, chéri?" Brigitte replied, oblivious to the thoughts that had been swirling belied by the gentle circles of his hand as it rested under her shirt against her soft, bare stomach.

"Do you want to get married?"

"Chéri, we are already married," she laughed softly.

"No, I mean," he sighed, frustrated he wasn’t expressing himself properly, "do you want to get married in the Church. I mean now that we can."

"Oh," she replied, stunned, the thought clearly never crossing her mind. She had assumed that option had long passed, and the thought that she could, that he would want to, left her a little speechless.

"I just know how much it would mean to you, being in good standing again," he started to explain.

"Mon cœur, I’m a believer but I’m no longer practicing," she interrupted, trying to reassure him, feeling he was getting worked up about it.

"But is that because of me?" He asked nervously.

"Is what because of you?" She questioned, confused.

"The not practicing part."

"No, chéri. I respect you and your beliefs, but I’d have no problem going to Mass on my own if I wanted. I think it has much more to do with the fact I’m living in sin as they would say," she tried to joke.

"But that is because of me! Because you divorced him and married me!"

"You’re my life, Emmanuel. There has never been any question, never been any regret in choosing you. And whatever higher power there is knows that."

"And I’m not questioning that!"

"Then what is this about?" She asked gently, turning in his arms to look him in the eyes, searching for a clue in his blue eyes.

"It’s about how sad I saw you were when you couldn’t take communion at the funeral we went to," he explained on a heavy exhale.

"That was weeks ago! You’re still thinking about it?"

"I don’t ever stop thinking about how to make you happier, Brigitte."

"Oh," Brigitte replied surprised, overwhelmed. "Chéri, I am happy."

"I said happier, not that you are unhappy," Emmanuel smiled, leaning in to sneak a kiss.

"Could we even do it?" Brigitte asked when they pulled back, clearly thinking it over.

"Andre has been gone for a few years now, chérie. To the Church you’re a widow. And if that isn’t enough, I know the Pope!"

Brigitte laughed heartily at that. "I guess you do."

"He loves you," Emmanuel continued with a frown as he kept thinking on it. "Almost too much."

"Chéri, he’s the Pope! Don’t be jealous."

"But he has the popemobile!" He protested.

"And?" She asked confused.

"It’s really cool! Have you seen it?"

"Chéri, I think you’re really cool." Brigitte smiled at him.

"So what do you think?"

"Of the popemobile?"

"No! About marrying me. Again."

"Do you want to do it?" She asked, needing to know his answer.

"This isn’t about me," he tried to beg out of the question.

"It’s very much about you," Brigitte replied, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Do you want to do it?"

"I do," he answered.

"Not just for me. For you. Do you want to do this for you?"

"I wouldn’t be proposing if I didn’t want to," he smiled at her. "I would love to hold your hands up at that altar and tell you again just how much I love you, how happy I am that you are my wife. I would love for our other grandkids to see it, and for Emma to remember it this time, for them to see what true love looks like, so they know never to settle. Plus, I don’t love the idea that there is anyone’s eyes we’re not married in."

"You’re that possessive?" Brigitte tried to joke to cut the suddenly heavy tension.

"Oh yeah, but you already knew that, chérie," he replied squeezing her tighter. "Marry me," he asked pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he waited for her answer.

"Yes. Yes, I would love that," she replied, tears gathering in her eyes.

"Then it’s settled!" Emmanuel beamed in response. "We’re getting married!"

"We’ve been married for 16 years!"

"Don’t spoil this for me! I’m on cloud nine. The most incredible woman in the world just agreed to marry me."

"You’re so silly," Brigitte shook her head lovingly.

"And you love it!"

"Of course I do. I love you."

"I love you too, Brigitte. So very much. Now, when do we next have the whole family together?"

"In a few weeks. Why?"

"I want to do this as soon as possible."

"Surely we have to get permission or something, and there will be paperwork, or I don’t know."

"You leave all that to me, chérie. Just show up on the day looking pretty."

"Are you saying I don’t look pretty everyday?"

"Of course not!!" He vehemently protested. "I just meant -"

"I know what you meant, chéri. I was just teasing you."

"You’re naughty!" He chuckled with a smile.

"Are you going to punish me?" She asked, her smirk charged.

"How about I take you to bed and you find out?"

"What will my soon-to-be husband think?" She joked, faux-scandalized.

"I think he would be a very, very big fan." He growled as he scooped her into his arm, promising to carry through on her threat.

Chapter Text

They were lying comfortably in bed, ready to begin the holiday movie they had finally decided on, when he turned to her sympathetically.

“Brigitte, are you alright with the arrangements for tomorrow? I know you love having the whole family around on Christmas Day,” Emmanuel asked, knowing she had grown quieter as the night progressed.

Because their family was so large, and everyone had their partners’ families to visit, Brigitte and Emmanuel celebrated Christmas with their children and grandchildren a week earlier. This meant it would be just them for the next few days (not that either of them was complaining. They knew how to entertain themselves.)

“I’ll miss seeing our family, but it won’t be all bad,” she said teasingly. “I’ll have you all to myself. We don’t even have to leave our bedroom.”

With a devious smirk, knowing his mind no longer cared to watch the movie, Brigitte turned on the television and cuddled closely. It only took her a few minutes to fall asleep, leaving Emmanuel to finish watching the predictable chick flick on his own.

When Christmas morning arrived, Brigitte made sure she woke up before him. She fetched the box she had hidden in their linen closet and tip-toed to the bathroom with the still-sealed package. After showering and quickly styling her hair into loose curls, she slipped the outfit on, smiling approvingly in the mirror when she caught her reflection.

The red lingerie piece fit perfectly, as though it were made for her. It hugged her curves in all the right spots, especially highlighting her backside, which he loved so much. The one-piece featured a sweetheart neckline trimmed with soft white faux fur, adding a festive touch.

After applying cinnamon-flavoured lipgloss, she took one final look at herself, ready to surprise her husband. The flared skirt, trimmed with the same luxurious white fur, danced gracefully with every sway of her hips as she approached their bed.

“Is this… my Christmas gift?” Emmanuel whispered, his blood rushing to one specific body part. He struggled to speak as he took her in like a hungry man. The delicate black ribbon intricately crisscrossed at the center and along the back resembled a corset that invited him to unwrap his gift.

“Well, it depends. Do you like it?” She asked, receiving the reaction she had hoped for based solely on his wandering and lustful eyes. A shiver went down her spine when he licked his lips in anticipation.  

“Come here,” Emmanuel beckoned, needing to undress her as quickly as possible. He loved his gift, but he wanted what was under it more - his beautiful wife, in all her glory, naked and wet only for him.

Nibbling her soft neck, he pulled the fabric down until one breast was fully exposed. “Do you see what you do to me?” He growled, placing her hand on his lap.

“How long has he been awake?” Brigitte asked cheekily as she reached inside his boxers.

“Ever since you walked into our bedroom wearing that. Holy shit, Chérie, you never cease to take my breath away,” Emmanuel admitted, needing less chit-chat and more action.

He had a million questions that he needed answers to: Where did she buy it? When did she buy it? How long had she kept this outfit a secret? 

But all those questions would have to wait. He had serious business to take care of.

Pulling her on top, they lost themselves completely, both of them not stopping until his personal cell phone rang persistently from his side of the bed.

“Chérie, ignore it,” Emmanuel said when he felt her long legs unwrap from around his waist.

Between kisses, she answered, “What if it’s the children calling to wish us a Merry Christmas?”

Begrudgingly, he stopped to check his phone but slammed it back down when he saw whose name was displayed on the caller ID. He didn’t miss a beat when he spread her legs open, running his tongue through her wetness.

“Wait!” Brigitte placed her hand on his chest and gently pushed him away. “Who was it?”

Looking up from between her thighs, he rolled his eyes, “My mother.”

“Oh yeah, don’t stop!” She laughed, grateful that he didn’t take the call. His mother could wait. Right now, she wanted to enjoy this remarkable Christmas gift from her husband. And the way he worked his tongue, this gift would come earlier than expected. 

Chapter Text

"Hello?" Tiphaine answered the phone with only half of her attention paid towards her brother on the end.

"Did you look at where the address Manu and Maman sent goes?" Sébastien asked with no preamble.

"No. We were just going to input it into our GPS. Why?" She asked, curious what could have gotten him of all people so worked up.

"It’s a church." He answered simply.

"A church?" She was confused. Why would they be meeting at a church?

"A church!"

"Okay, but I don’t -"

"Is there something you want to tell me?" He asked pointedly.

"What do you mean?" She asked, the crease in her brow deepening.

"Did you get married or something?"

"No! Of course not! I would have told you," she protested.

"Does our sister have something to share?"

"Not that I know of, but I’m sure she would have been the one to send it if it was her."

"Maybe one of his siblings has had another baby?" He pondered out loud.

"Wouldn’t we have seen that on Instagram?"

"I just don’t get it!" He sighed.

"If it’s bothering you that much, call them!" She pointed out.

"But I don’t want to spoil the surprise!"

"So you’re asking me to do it instead?" She asked knowingly.

"You’re the baby, they can’t ever stay mad at you," he explained.

"You’ll find out in a couple of days. You can wait."

"Fine. You’re no help!"

"Love you too!" She chuckled as he hung up.

On the appointed Saturday, Sébastien stood in the entryway, fidgeting with his shirt cuffs waiting for them to arrive.

"What the hell are we doing in a church, Maman?" He asked as soon as she started walking towards them, missing in his determination to get answers the way she was wearing her wedding dress from 16 years ago.

"Language!" Brigitte scolded.

"Sorry. Why are we in a church?" He tried again, properly scolded.

"You want to tell them, chéri? It was your idea," Brigitte smiled warmly at Emmanuel, resting her free hand over his heart as he pulled her by her hip closer into him.

"We’re getting married!" He beamed.

"Again," she added, turning back to their children who seemed frozen in shock.

"What does this mean?" Tiphaine finally asked.

"Well, in the eyes of the church, your Maman is now a widow, which means we can get married!" Emmanuel explained, his excitement fading as he realized the kids still didn’t understand. "Your mother has been upset lately that she is not in good standing, and now that I can do something about it, I want to. Besides, I’ll never pass up an opportunity to show her how much I love her."

"Oh my God! Why didn’t you lead with that? Manu! That’s so romantic!" Laurence enthused with a squeal.

"You didn’t ask our permission this time," Sébastien teased, acting like the protective son.

"Oh! I’m sorry, I should have asked!" Emmanuel stammered, feeling badly about it since it clearly meant a lot to him. "I just thought because we were already married but you’re right I should -"

"Manu! I’m just teasing you!" Sébastien laughingly interrupted before he could work himself up any further. "You know how much we love you."

"So when is everyone else getting here?" Tiphaine asked, trying to quickly change the subject.

"What do you mean?" Brigitte asked.

"I mean, it’s only us right now. When is everyone else getting here?"

"This is everyone!" Emmanuel exclaimed happily.

"Really? But your parents aren’t even here!"

"Yes. And?"

"And, this is a big deal. Shouldn’t they be here?"

"I barely wanted them there the first time," he mumbled in response under his breath, only to be gently rebuked by his wife - "Emmanuel, behave!"

"Sorry, chérie," he apologized with a kiss to the top of her head. "The truth is, we want to keep this as private and secret as possible. We want this to be just for us - for our family. The people who matter the most. So anyone else seemed unnecessary."

"That’s incredibly sweet, Maman, Manu."

Before the party had any more time to chat, the Priest approached. "Monsieur le President, Madame, it’s time."

"You still want to do this?" Brigitte asked one last time as they walked up the aisle.

"I would marry you again every day for the rest of my life if I could, Brigitte."

"This is plenty," she laughed softly, blushing a deep pink in response to the look in his eyes.

"Nah, we have our 20 year anniversary coming up. And then our 25th, and our 30th-"

"Chéri, behave!" Brigitte scolded as they settled into their places for the brief blessing ceremony.

Once the ceremony was over, after he again could kiss his bride, he pressed his lips against her ear so their children would not overhear and asked "does this mean we get a second honeymoon?"

Pulling back with a teasing smirk, she replied "it’s hard to have a second one when the first has never ended."

Chapter Text

A few more things needed to be done around his place; unfortunately, he had run out of time before everything was back in order. Any second now, his girlfriend would burst through his door, anxious to spend another weekend with him.

As predicted, she jumped into his waiting arms, wrapped her legs around his waist, and kissed him passionately.

“I missed you,” he proclaimed, adjusting his hands so they were firmly planted on her ass.

“I missed you so much. I can’t wait for our weekend together,” Brigitte said, finally unwrapping her legs so she could grab the bag of groceries she had brought along, wanting to cook a special meal for him. During the school week, she believed Emmanuel spent most of his money on takeout food and microwaveable meals.

After getting reacquainted, Brigitte started prepping the vegetables, knowing how hungry Emmanuel must be. They had plenty of time to catch up in the bedroom and needed all the energy they could muster for their evening workout.

“It smells so good,” he said, holding her by the waist and kissing her neck while she stirred the Alfredo sauce.

“Go wash up, and I’ll set the table. The food should be ready in five minutes,” Brigitte smiled, giving him one last peck before he raced off.

While she filled their glasses with red wine, she spotted a large pile of envelopes in the garbage can. Carefully taking them out, she shuffled through the endless correspondence with suspicion. Some envelopes were pink with a hint of perfume, while others were simple and plain.

Each one had something in common: Emmanuel’s name was handwritten on the front.

Using a butter knife, Brigitte sliced the first one open and skimmed the lengthy, six-page letter before diving into it, holding her breath while her eyes adjusted.

Reading, in great detail, what this particular woman wanted to do to her boyfriend made her sick to her stomach. Opening another one, she took a deep breath before removing it from the envelope. A different woman had written this one, a girl from his philosophy class who compared him to a Greek God in the first paragraph.

This letter was much shorter, not as tasteless as the previous one, yet still incredibly graphic.

Brigitte had read enough, throwing the pile back in the trash without wanting to open the rest.

These obsessed women wanted Emmanuel. Unlike her, they were young and had their whole lives ahead of them. They could give him children and offer him a life with decades shared. With all their complications (mainly his family) standing in their way and the long distance between them, these women could offer him everything Brigitte couldn’t. Unlike her, they weren’t legally married to someone else; they didn’t have three children and a body to show for that. Any one of these women would be a better suitor than her.

She pictured him in a cozy home, laughing and cuddling with someone else. He and this mystery female would wake up in the same bed surrounded by fur babies before - eventually - having their own children.

If Emmanuel chose any of these women, his life would be much easier on every level. His parents would finally approve of his relationship. They wouldn’t have to suffer the same ill glances Brigitte did when strangers spotted them holding hands in public or hearing the whispers from people wondering if she was his mother.

“Is everything alright? What happened?” Emmanuel immediately realized how upset she looked when he returned to the kitchen. Brigitte stood by the stove, gripping the knife until her knuckles turned white.

She looked up with beady eyes, “Where did all these letters come from?”

It finally dawned on him. He had forgotten to take out the trash. He knew he had missed something. Now, the unwanted letters were staring him straight in the face.

“They’re just girls from around campus. Chérie, I have no interest in them,” Emmanuel remarked, not wanting this conversation to ruin their weekend together. Their time was so limited that he didn’t want to spend it fighting.

She fought back tears, wanting to trust him, but insecurities crept up.

“All it takes is for them to say the right thing or write in this case, and you’ll push me aside! Perhaps you would be better suited for a woman closer to your age.”

Wrapping his arms around her, Emmanuel held her against his warm body. “I don’t want anyone else. Sweetheart, didn’t you notice the letters weren’t opened? They were inside my trash can for a reason! I have no desire to read what they wrote.”

“I can’t give you biological children,” she cried into his chest. “I mean, I could try, but it might not be easy anymore! I’m not as fertile as I was 20 years ago!”

“Stop that nonsense! I love the three we have. Brigitte, I don’t want anything these sad, lonely women are offering me,” Emmanuel said clearly. “They’re not you.”

“How did you receive these letters? Are they mailed out? Given to you in the corridors?” Brigitte asked, curious if these girls knew where he lived.

He planted a comforting kiss on her forehead. “They don’t know where I live. Sometimes they hand an envelope to me after class, but more often than not, I find them tucked inside one of my textbooks.”

“And you’ve never thought to open one? To read what they’re saying to you?” Brigitte asked suspiciously. She shuddered, thinking about the naughty words a woman named Celine had written. Why was this woman getting wet just thinking about her boyfriend?

“The thought has never crossed my mind. Why should it? I have you, and you’re all I want. Brigitte, there’s not one part of me that even cares to read what they have to say,” Emmanuel concluded. “Please, sit down so we can enjoy this beautiful meal you have prepared.”

She sat beside him, picking at her garden salad and smiling at his stories, but her mind was elsewhere.

“Brigitte, follow me,” he said softly, grabbing her waist. “I want to show you something.”

Emmanuel led her into the bedroom and pointed to his bed, wanting her to face him as she sat. Brigitte obeyed, her legs dangling off the end of the mattress.

“Open,” he demanded, kneeling in front of her.

She spread her legs and ran a hand through his curly hair. “What are you doing?”

“Chérie, what I’m doing should be obvious. I’m proving how much I love you,” Emmanuel replied, hiking her miniskirt until it rested around her waist.

He started slowly by kissing her inner thighs, savouring every bit of her taste. 

“Lift,” he tapped her hip, needing it to rise so he could pull her panties down effortlessly.

Brigitte blushed, noticing the wet stain on the silky material—evidence of how he made her feel.

“I’m as much yours as you are mine, and I’m not going anywhere without you,” Emmanuel promised with a whisper before he dove between her slick folds.

It didn’t take long for Brigitte to see stars, her legs shaking as he ate her out like she was dessert.

“You’re mine in every sense of the word. You’ll always be mine, and I’m never letting you go,” Emmanuel smiled, giving her a few minutes to recover from her earth-shattering orgasm.

“What if….”

Emmanuel pressed a finger to her lips. “What aren’t you understanding? What more must I do to convince you I am in this relationship forever?”

“You mean it?” She asked, her heart exploding for this man who was promising her the world.

“I love you more than anything,” he said truthfully and from the depths of his soul as he watched her reaction to his words. Her heart and soul were full of love, and a single tear burned from her eyes.

Lovingly, Emmanuel wiped it away with his thumb. “Please don’t cry. My love for you shouldn’t make you cry.”

“They’re happy tears,” Brigitte laughed as she pushed herself off the bed and got down on bent knees. “Let me return the favour.”

“No,” he gently pushed her back, “tonight is about you. You can do whatever you want to me tomorrow, but until we fall asleep tonight, I will spend every minute proving my love.”

And he did—countless times. 

Chapter Text

Emmanuel could feel his heart ready to beat outside his chest, his thumb worrying over the tissue covered stems as his eyes frantically searched for his final destination. He took a deep breath as he slowed his approach, making sure to remain a respectful distance back as he read over the words engraved in the granite: "Jean Trongeux, 1909-1994, beloved husband, father, and grandfather."

"Hello, Sir," Emmanuel said aloud, the fear audible in his voice. He was never sure what was more frightening, meeting your partner’s parents when they were alive, seeing her father size you up and judge you unworthy of his most precious little girl, but knowing you had the opportunity to change his mind, or like this, standing in front of their silent tombstones leaving you to ramble and ramble and pray wherever they were, they could see how much you loved their little girl, how much you would always do right by her.

"It’s me, Emmanuel, Brigitte’s partner. I know I haven’t come a lot, and never without her before, but I wanted to talk to you? Man to man, you know. From the way she talks about you, from the stories she tells, I feel like you would appreciate that at least.

"I’m here because I want to marry your daughter. I love Brigitte more than anything in this world and I have worked so hard for the last 13 years to be worthy of the title of her husband. I promise, I earn a good living now, I make her happy every day, and I love her children like they were my own, because to me, they are mine.

"One day, I’m going to give her the world. Because she deserves it. She deserves everything. And if she’ll let me,
I want to be the man who gives it to her.

"I already asked the kids for their permission. They said yes. You’d be so proud of them. They’ve grown up into these remarkable humans. There’s so much of her in them. Sometimes, it makes me wonder how much of you is in her too.

"I wish I could have met you. I hope you would have liked me. I’ll be honest, I’m not even sure what I’m doing right now. I feel silly for being so nervous. I just know how much she loved you, how much she respected you, and it felt wrong to propose without at least telling you, without trying to ask for your blessing.

"I don’t know how much power any of us have in whatever comes next, but if you could send me a sign we have your blessing to do this, I would appreciate it."

He nodded finally getting to the end of his speech, feeling a little lighter for finally having said it, done the right thing. He waited a few seconds in respectful silence, letting the peaceful sounds of nature steady his heart and his nerves as he turned to walk back.

"Oh!" He blushed, embarrassed as he realized what was still in his hands, "I forgot. These were for you, Madame. I’m sorry they’re a little worse for wear," he apologized as he laid the flowers over her mother’s grave.

"Now I’m going to go," he whispered to no one in particular and started the trek back to the front gates.

"Hello?" Emmanuel called out as he walked through the front door of her home in warning, knowing she was somewhere packing up the last boxes of her things as they finally cleaned out her home, getting to ready to move her out now that her divorce was finalized and the house sold.

"Hey!" Brigitte greeted warmly, popping out seemingly from nowhere, a bright smile on her face. "How was your walk? Did you run into your parents?"

"No, thank God," he laughed as he approached her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. "I missed you," he breathed into her hair as he buried his face into her neck.

"I missed you too, chéri," she smiled back, her hands a little too occupied to hug him back.

"What are you hiding?" He asked, pulling back when he noticed that his hug wasn’t reciprocated.

"I found something!" She beamed. "I thought I lost these years ago, because I was looking for them to give to Sébastien when he graduated but I could never find them. Turns out they were in that drawer in my dresser all along - look!" She said, opening the jewelry case. "The cufflinks my father wore the day he married my mother!"

"Those are beautiful chérie," Emmanuel said around the lump forming in his throat. What were the odds that she’d find those again now?

"I was hoping you would say that," she continued, shoving the box into his hand. "Because there’s a little voice inside my head saying he would want you to have them."

"I will treasure them. I promise."

"And hey, maybe one day if you do marry me after all, you can wear them. Our something old!" She joked, already turning back to the endless stack of boxes that needed her attention.

"When I marry you," he corrected, staring down at the silver jewelry in his hands, knowing now more than ever it wasn’t an if, it was a when. "When I marry you, they’ll be our something old."

Chapter Text

He searched his apartment like a madman, wondering where he put his navy blue hoodie. The weather was getting colder, so he wanted to dress warm for his Friday afternoon class.

It wasn’t in his laundry hamper or buried deep at the bottom of a drawer. Emmanuel tried to remember the last time he saw the piece of clothing. He concluded it was probably about a week ago - give or take. This specific piece wasn’t easy to misplace. The drawstrings were worn and frayed, and the once-rich colour had faded after countless washings, but he loved it. It had been a gift from his grandmother for his 18th birthday.

Fetching his books, Emmanuel took off to class, pushing the mystery of his lost hoodie aside and selecting a basic white one instead. His primary focus was getting through the day as quickly as possible so he could be reunited with his girlfriend.

“Brigitte?! Baby, are you home?" Emmanuel called out, stepping inside his apartment. He could feel her presence, sensing she had let herself in with the key he had surprised her with last year. The key symbolized his commitment, proving to her how serious he was about their relationship. She could come & go whenever she pleased. It was her place just as much as it was his. 

“I’m here!” She emerged from the kitchen, blissfully excited to see him. The weather had turned frigid in Paris, and she desperately needed her man to warm her up.

“There it is!” Emmanuel said, greeting Brigitte with a kiss on the lips. “Where did you find my hoodie? I searched the entire apartment this morning for it!”

Brigitte nervously touched her hair, “I took it home last weekend. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

He was speechless at the sentiment but needed to know why she did it. Was it simply because she was cold, or did she want a piece of him with her? His heart pounded rapidly at the possibilities.

Playfully tugging on the string so she’d know he wasn’t upset, Emmanuel asked, "Why did you take it?”

Rubbing her finger against his, Brigitte grinned, “I wanted something that smelled like you. Unfortunately, I slept in it all week, so it probably smells more like me now. I’ll steal another hoodie before I leave on Sunday. I have my eye on that black one you love so much. Until then, I have the real thing this weekend,” she chuckled, pulling him closer and knocking him off balance for a second.

His eyes twinkled when he felt her bare skin underneath the cotton material.

“I wanted to save time tonight,” Brigitte replied nonchalantly. “Tank tops and bras just slow us down.”

Emmanuel growled, desperately needing to see her naked. Five days apart was too much for the overly affectionate couple who craved each other constantly. 

Pulling the hoodie up and over her head, he latched onto a nipple, playfully biting the hardened skin. Moaning loudly, Brigitte forcefully pushed her chest into his face until he was buried deep in her cleavage. Knowing she frequently enjoyed it rough, Emmanuel grabbed her breasts and squeezed them. “Can you feel what you do to me?” He whispered, rubbing his erection against her stomach.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, wetness beginning to pool in her panties. Needing relief, she rubbed her thighs together, anxiously hoping for his mouth or hands to take over.

“Alright, sweater theft, how about moving this into the bedroom?” Emmanuel suggested, tossing Brigitte over his shoulder before she could respond.

First, he’d punish her for taking something without permission.

Second…

Oh hell, it wasn’t the first time she stole something that belonged to him. 

Chapter Text

He knows that no matter how many times she does this, no matter how many times she’s stood in front of larger crowds and given speeches over the last almost eight years, it never gets any easier for her.

He thinks it’s a little ironic, he, the shy introvert who loves nothing more than a nice quiet night in with his family, cuddling on the couch with his wife after an afternoon playing tag with their grandchildren, has no stage fright in front of the cameras, or when 35,000 people gathered in this same arena for him almost 3 years ago in his last rally of his last campaign; whereas she, his brilliant, extraverted wife, whose big heart has never met a stranger, simply a friend she didn’t know before, is trying to dance out her nerves as she waits for the red light and the prompting.

He’s all too happy to stand there at her back, watching her like she watches him, bring her the comfort she brings him, when the simple fact of her presence is enough to steel him, to steady him when he gives those important speeches. He hopes it is enough, he is enough, as when the countdown starts and she turns back to him, her eyes a little panicked, he blows her a kiss. His reminder that she will be fine, but if she isn’t, he’s right there to catch her if she falls.

God, is he proud of her, he beams as he watches her shine. This remarkable woman who has made all of this happen through her unique efforts of persuasion, compassion, and sheer force of will. He thinks of the long nights only he knows she suffered putting in the calls, writing and rewriting her appeals in English, trying to get the words just right in a language that wasn’t her own. He thinks of the longer nights when she is back from those important trips to the hospitals, the houses and centers she has worked tirelessly to build and help, when the bright smiles of the children aren’t enough to soothe the wound their suffering leaves on her heart, as they become her catalyst for further action - always seeking the next thing. He thinks of everything that has led to this moment, and everything she has done, and yet again falls a little more in love with this woman who has a vice grip on his heart, a grip he never wants her to let go.

Without thinking he feels his body moving towards hers as he claps, not caring if the camera he vaguely registers is pointed at him captures the way she physically calls him to her, their bodies just magnets waiting to snap firmly together like their souls. He watches as she says something to the crew, waiting for his turn for her attention as she hands the microphone back to a man in black before she seeks his gaze, looking for his thoughts, clearly hoping for his approval.

He flashes her a thumbs up as soon as he meets her eyes, and over the volume of the crowd appears to only be mouthing "Well done. I’m so proud of you."

As her arms wrap tightly around his neck and shoulders, his hands settle gently into their usual spot on her lower back, cradling her gently as she presses too tightly into him, so that he can feel every bit of her as she moves to gently kiss his cheek, whispering her "thank you" into his ear before they separate slightly so he could greet her cohost.

He senses the second her hand lets go of his shoulder where it had been resting since pulling out of the hug, the loss of contact cutting through him like a knife, causing him to immediately turn to where she was seeking reassurance she hadn’t left, the relief pooling in the pit of his stomach as his eyes find hers again.

He finds himself repeating this pattern frequently throughout the night, following happily behind in her wake as she played the perfect hostess, as they move through sections, weave through the backstage area, spending time with each artist to genuinely thank them for coming.

But he was relieved when they finally found themselves in the boxed seats that had been reserved for their family, watching as his daughters goofed off in the corner with their friends and their children, holding his wife’s hand as they watched some artist he was too uncool to know.

She senses he is getting restless, or maybe she knows this part of the programming was never for him, and turns to him with so much love and gratitude in her eyes he feels his breath catch.

"Thank you for coming," she says again.

"Brigitte," he tries to wave away.

"No, I mean it! You didn’t have to make sure you were here tonight. It means the world to me that you are."

"See, that’s where you are wrong, chérie. Of course I had to be here tonight. I had to be here to support you, the indescribable woman you are. I am so very, very proud of you."

He smiles as he sees her blush in response, squeezing her hand so she knows, feels, that he means it.

They settle into a contented silence after that, her head resting on his shoulder as they wait for the artists to change, him occasionally pressing kisses into her hair to fill the comfortable silence until they see the next artist walk onto the stage and settle behind the keys.

Emmanuel sighs as he hears the first notes of the song trickle in, and leans into her ear to whisper, "may I have this dance?"

She giggles as he pulls her into the darkened corner of the suite, outside the prying eyes of their guards and their children, as he wraps his arms tightly around her waist and her settle over his shoulders.

"All of me, loves all of you," he sings along softly, staring into her too blue eyes as he does so, letting her see in his gaze just how true that statement is, how deeply he loves her.

They continue that way for the rest of the song, him singing the chorus softly while they rock gently in each other’s arms, the spell ending as the song does, and the rest of the noisy world flooding back in.

"I love you so much, chéri," she says as they separate to go back to their seats.

"I love you more, Brigitte," he replies stealing a kiss.

Chapter Text

“I’m done!” Brigitte yelled, roughly zipping up a large overnight bag. “I’m not doing this anymore!”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?" Emmanuel panicked when his fiancé - soon-to-be wife - threw a handful of clothes and makeup in a suitcase.

“I’m spending the night somewhere else!” She screamed, pulling the plastic luggage along with her.

The fight started when Emmanuel accused Brigitte of not moving her divorce along fast enough. After hearing nasty words and accusations, Brigitte had had enough. Needing space, she packed a bag, knowing she had a few options for where she could spend the night.

“Don’t come looking for me!” Brigitte proclaimed, slamming the door in his face.

The fight had gone too far and for too long (four hours, to be exact). There was no way in hell he was letting her walk through that door or out of his life. Emmanuel gently grabbed her arm and pulled her back inside. “Please, I’m so sorry! Stay here! It's too late to leave anyway!”

“You need some time to stew and think about what you’ve said to me. You can’t just throw out harsh words and expect me not to react! I’ll be back tomorrow!” Brigitte broke free from his grasp and stormed out, not looking back at the house, knowing her heart might not be strong enough. But she wasn’t going to crumble and run back into his arms. Not yet, at least.

He wanted to chase after her, but when he ran outside after her, she took off like a rocket ship.

Emmanuel needed to know where she was going, who she was staying with, and when she would return. There were countless possibilities: she had three children, all of whom would warmly take their mother in for the night. She had some friends and family she could visit unannounced, but doing so would be admitting to everyone that they were right about her relationship. And then there were the possibilities that scared Emmanuel. Was she staying with another man? Or even worse, was she back with Andre?

No, she loves you. She would never betray you.

He spent the entire night wondering where she was. Twirling his trinity band around his finger, he called each of their three children, but none answered their phones.

Was it purely coincidental, or had Brigitte already told them about the fight? The relationship, their upcoming wedding, and her love for him were all questioned.

Unable to sleep, he spent several hours pacing their home, hoping she’d have a change of heart and return to him before midnight.

By 6 AM, Emmanuel finally fell asleep on the couch, only to be woken up by a loud bang twenty minutes later.

When he rushed to the front door, Brigitte was rolling her suitcase behind her. She wore a different outfit than the one she had left in, and her hair had been washed and styled differently.

“You came home!” Emmanuel rejoiced, ready to kiss her all over and never let her leave again. He had hours to think about his mistakes, and that’s precisely what he did. “I’m so sorry, Chérie - for everything.”

Brigitte couldn’t lie to herself anymore - she had missed him. And she found comfort in his scent as she laid her head on his shoulder. “I’ll always come home to you,” she confessed.

“I was worried. The kids weren’t answering their telephones. Horrible thoughts were consuming my brain,” Emmanuel spoke softly, not wanting to admit that he had wondered if she was seeking refuge with another man. “Please just stay, and we can work it out. Don’t leave me again. Even if you’re annoyed or upset, I can sleep in another room. Just .... Please don’t leave me.”

“You upset me, Emmanuel, and hurt me deeply, but I missed you while I was away and sleeping without you. Just don’t ever accuse me of that bullshit again,” Brigitte warned, “or else I’m gone! For good next time.” She put her cards on the table and waited to see if he retaliated.

When he didn’t, she pulled him close and planted a kiss on his cold nose.

“Where did you spend the night?” Emmanuel asked, bracing for an answer he was scared to know.

“Don’t worry about that,” Brigitte replied nonchalantly. She’d eventually tell him the truth, but she wanted him to suffer just a little longer.

It was only fair. 

Chapter Text

"There you are!" He said softly when he found her, quietly contemplating the now empty bookshelves that for so many years had housed their precious memories: her father’s favorite books nestled beside her mother’s; a copy of the play they wrote together, a copy of the school poster tucked inside the front cover; his beloved Manette’s collection he inherited from her will; two signed, dedicated copies of their daughters’ books; their favorite sheet music; and countless family photos. "I missed you," he breathed softly as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, sensing she needed the support.

He never forgot before this was his office, it was her father’s. It always comforted him, somehow, it almost felt like a blessing inhabiting a space where he could still feel what he imagined was his father-in-law’s presence. It made him smile when he thought about it, about the love, trust, and reverence Brigitte gave him by allowing him into that inner sanctum, by giving him so freely something that was the last connection she had to her parents who she loved so much.

"You doing okay?" He asked after a few minutes of their silence, his hand gently rubbing her stomach where it lay, pressing light kisses to her shoulder in support. He knows how impossible this goodbye is for him, he can’t even begin to imagine what it means for her.

"Yes. No. No, but I will be." She answered tentatively, reaching up and interlocking her fingers with his, squeezing tight.

"You want to talk about it?" He asked gently, the rumble of his chest soothing against her back.

"It’s just hard to say goodbye. This was our home."

"And we sure filled it with love," he agreed.

"We did everything here. This is where we took our first family vacations, the five of us, where we got married, where we brought our grandchildren home and watched them grow up," she continued wistfully.

"I am so grateful for every single minute of it."

"You don’t understand," she said, insistent, turning in his arms until he could look into her pleading eyes. "This was our home. You and me. Papa left it to me as I was splitting with Andre, so this place has always been ours."

"You know, just because we will be in a new house, doesn’t make any of this, or our memories of this place, any less our home," he reassured.

"I know -"

"And we are going to fill our new place up with so much love that it won’t feel strange, not even for a second."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Besides, to me, a house, even this one, is just a house. Because you, Brigitte, you are my home.

"Growing up, I never felt like I belonged at home with my parents. The closest I felt was when I took refuge at Manette’s house, hiding away amongst all her books. But all of that pales in comparison to how I feel when you’re simply standing next to me.

"We could live in a literal shoebox and I would be the happiest man alive so long as I was right by your side."

His smile faded as he saw the tears gathering gently in her eyes. "Oh no!" He panicked a little. "Don’t cry, that was meant to be comforting. God, I’m an idiot-"

"No no," she shook her head. "Good tears. I love you so much it feels like I can’t breathe."

"We can’t have that," he joked to try and break the tension. "I can’t survive without you."

"Then I guess I have to solider through," she smiled up at him.

"That’s my girl," he beamed before he leaned in for a kiss, savoring the way she pressed against him, one last kiss amongst the thousands they had shared in this very room, the most fitting parting he knew.

"I am going to love our new house, you know," she said softly a few minutes after they had pulled back, their foreheads still resting together, her eyes shut as he brushed his hand gently against her back.

"I know," he agreed. "It’s just going to take some time, which we have plenty of. And it gives us time to name our new one!"

"Name?" She asked slightly confused.

"Oh yeah. We got to come up with something more clever than just our last name. I mean, your parents set a high bar with this place. I was thinking Emmagitte?"

Bri chuckled and shook her head in soft rebuke.

"You’re right. See this is why we need the time to workshop it!"

"Thank you," she said sincerely. “For everything. This house wouldn’t have ever been my home without you.”

"I will be right here by your side. Always."

Chapter Text

The French city looked picturesque as the sun began to set.

“You need to come here and check out this breathtaking view!” Brigitte gasped, pulling back the darkened curtains to get a better glimpse of the skyline. 

“I am…” he answered, his eyes never leaving her body. He didn’t care what was outside because, to Emmanuel, no view looked better than his girlfriend.

Her black skirt beautifully accented her curves and sat five inches above her knees, showcasing her long legs. She had paired it with a red scoop-neck sweater that left little to the imagination. (Luckily for him, Emmanuel knew exactly what was hidden beneath.)

Brigitte shook her head as he hopped on the bed, pulled the sheets back, and motioned for her to join him.

“Emmanuel, we’re staying at this charming hotel for less than 36 hours. There’s plenty to do and see outside,” Brigitte remarked, wondering what had gotten into him. He was usually the energetic one dragging her from place to place, exploring every café, museum and bookstore.

As much as he enjoyed exploring a new town, Emmanuel wanted nothing more than to spend a few days intertwined in bed. Seeing Brigitte only on weekends didn’t satisfy his cravings. (But he prayed that would change very soon.)

When she passed him on the way to unpack her tiny suitcase, he grabbed her arms and pulled her onto the bed. Squealing, she playfully slapped his chest when he climbed on top, his hands toying with the hemline of her sweater. 

“What are you doing?” Brigitte laughed, flattered that all he wanted to do was be close to her.

Emmanuel kissed her neck, tasting a hint of perfume on his tongue, “I'm making up for lost time.”

Not one to deny him, but knowing exactly where this would lead if she didn’t stop it, Brigitte gently pushed him away. “Can we get something to eat first? We haven’t eaten since this morning!”

~

While they dined at a nearby restaurant, Brigitte had an idea—one that she knew her boyfriend would appreciate. When Emmanuel went to the washroom, Brigitte placed a to-go order for dessert and tomorrow’s breakfast.

“What’s in the brown bag?” Emmanuel asked, snaking his arm around her waist as they walked the three blocks back to their hotel. “You were so mysterious when I got back to the table.”

“You’ll see when we get back to the hotel,” Brigitte teased, knowing they would have no reason to leave the room until tomorrow afternoon.

Emmanuel playfully grabbed the bag when they stumbled back into the suite, using his lips and hands to distract her.

“What’s this?!” He asked, pulling out the take-out containers.

“I thought we could have dessert and breakfast in bed,” Brigitte admitted. “I know you have big plans for us this weekend. None of them involve us actually leaving this room.”

Emmanuel rummaged through the containers, finding buttermilk pancakes for the morning and a slice of lemon cake for tonight.

Her heart sank when he eyed the cake suspiciously. Had she accidentally picked the wrong flavour?

“What’s wrong?” Brigitte asked, knowing he loved lemons. “Did I make a bad choice? The dessert menu only had 4 options!”

Nodding, he acknowledged she had, in fact, chosen incorrectly. “But that restaurant had nothing on the menu I’d want to eat for dessert.”

“Oh?”

“You weren’t listed.”

Scooping her up, Emmanuel tossed her on the bed, ensuring she landed on the pile of pillows. “Care to have a little fun with your man?”

“I’m up for anything and everything with you,” Brigitte teased, ready for whatever he had planned.

And, as he had craved from the start, they spent the rest of the trip in bed, leaving only when it was absolutely necessary. 

Chapter Text

"Why am I here again?" Sebastien pouted as he flopped onto the couch outside the dressing room into which the women of his family had disappeared.

"Because it’s important for our family!" Emmanuel smiled brightly, refusing to take the bait, knowing it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that he hated shopping.

"You could just tell me what color tie to wear! I can pick out a suit that fits just fine on my own you know."

"We are a family, and it’s very important to both your mother and I that you three are a large part of our day. This is only going to take a few hours."

"Hours? How many dresses did Maman take back there?!"

"Enough! I hope. I know whatever she wears she is going to be the most beautiful bride in the planet, but I’m only doing this once so I just want everything to be perfect. Besides, I know your Maman feels a little embarrassed about the fact we’re making a big fuss about a second wedding, and I want to make her feel like she deserves all the attention. Because she does. She deserves the world."

"You’re so annoying sometimes!"

"Me? What did I do?"

"Because I can’t be mad at you when you say cute shit like that!"

"I love you too, Son."

"Oh brother, this is going to be a long day."

"Can I not even leave you two alone for five minutes?" Brigitte asked as she poked her head out, ready to show off dress number one.

"I’ll behave," her son mumbled begrudgingly, just like he did as a teenager.

"Let me see, chérie!" Emmanuel begged changing the conversation back to the real reason they were there.

She slowly stepped out in a floor length gown, more of a traditional choice than what she would have picked for herself, but she wanted to give her fiancé the option just to compare.

"That’s the one!" Emmanuel explained happily, his eyes shining at the sight of her.

"You can’t say that to every dress, chéri. That’s not how this works!" Brigitte rolled her eyes in reply.

"But you look so beautiful! You look like a bride, like my bride!" He protested.

"And I will be your bride even if I’m in a potato sack. Be serious!"

"I am! You look incredible. But go try on another dress since I can tell this one isn’t making you happy."

"You know I don’t have to wear the long gown."

"But it’s our wedding!"

"I already did the fairytale dress, chéri, and it didn’t lead to my happily ever after. Umm. No offense, Son."

"No. No. I get it." Sebastien replied, wanting to disappear into the couch.

"You know I love your legs when you wear those short skirts -"

"Please remember a child is present!" Sebastien interrupted before they got too close to saying something he couldn’t unhear.

"But even if it’s not a traditional wedding dress, this is our fairytale wedding, and our happily ever after, and I would like you to wear one, for me if not for you. Please?" Emmanuel pouted, flashing her his best puppy dog eyes.

"You know I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that! You’re not playing fair!"

"I’ll make it up to you," Emmanuel smirked.

"Child still present!" Sebastien insisted louder.

"Fine," Brigitte sighed. Giving in, "I’ll be right back."

"You’re the best, chérie! I love you!" He called out after her as she walked back into the dressing room.

"You two are insufferable. You’re lucky we love you."

"Oh, we know! We have the best children. See, this is why it’s so important you three are all a part of this! It’s not just me and your mother - I mean it is me and your mother - but it’s also this family finally getting the recognition we deserve and have worked so hard for -"

"Manu," Laurence popped her head out, interrupting. "If you’re done waxing lyrical for the moment, she’s ready with dress number two."

"Oh! Sorry! That was fast!"

"This is why both of us are back helping. Come on, Maman. I got him to shut up for five seconds!"

"Hey!" Emmanuel started to protest in indignation before his jaw hit the floor.

"You said you’d be okay if it wasn’t a traditional dress," Brigitte started with a disclaimer, trying to dampen a potential negative reaction because she loved this one.

It was fitted, but not too tight, showing off her gorgeous body but would also be comfortable enough she could carry around her granddaughter if Emma decided she needed a nap during the long day. It was floor length, meeting his requirements, but with a slit that reached her upper thigh, allowing her to brush gently against the length she would have preferred. Not too white, but not too ivory either, striking what she thought was the perfect happy medium between their lists.

"This is the dress," she thought as she saw herself in the mirror. A perfect match, a perfect fit, just like them.

"Yes," he nodded eagerly when he finally took control over his limbs again. "I do!"

"We’re not to that part yet!" Brigitte chuckled, pleased at his reaction.

"I don’t care, I’m kissing the bride!" Emmanuel said in all sincerity as he got off the couch and walked over to where she was standing, careful as he slipped one hand around her waist, the other on her cheek to pull her into a deep kiss.

"That the part you wanted a test run off?" Her eyes sparkled at him when they pulled back.

"Go take this off properly now so I can rip it off you later," Emmanuel leaned into whisper into her ear, letting go of her waist gently.

"I’ll hold you to that!" Brigitte winked as she disappeared.

Emmanuel turned around to head back to the couch, waiting for them to finish up so they could move on to looking for their daughter’s dresses, only to notice a certain someone was now missing. "Hey! Where did Sebastien go?"

Chapter Text

When they last spoke, she acted suspiciously, much different from her usual self. When she hung up, Emmanuel wondered where things stood in their relationship. On Thursday, their evening call had lasted only 10 minutes (unlike their typical hour-long conversations every night), with Brigitte making up a conveniently timed excuse to hang up. I need to wash my hair.

Now, Emmanuel sat in class, wondering if Brigitte would visit this weekend. She always did, but he wasn’t sure anymore - she hadn’t brought it up during their rushed conversation last night.

The feeling of unease, the pit in his stomach, had him skipping lunch for fear he would be unable to digest his food. When he left school that day, he ignored anyone who tried to start a conversation in the corridors, desperately wanting to go home and call his girlfriend instead.

Emmanuel knew he wasn’t alone when he stepped inside his apartment. Someone in his kitchen was banging pots and pans around while a record played softly in the living room.

“Hello?” Emmanuel announced, throwing his bag on the floor. “Is someone here?”

It was a dumb question - he knew someone was.

“Surprise!” Brigitte emerged from the kitchen, jumping into his arms and throwing his body off balance.

Their lips connected in a starving kiss, each fighting for control as his hands quickly found their way under her miniskirt.

“Let’s eat dinner first,” Brigitte teased, removing his eager hands. She had timed the chicken—down to the minute—so that it would be ready when he got home from class.

Emmanuel reached for her hand across the table when they sat down to eat. “Chérie, I thought you were mad at me. You were so quick on the phone last night.”

“If we had spoken too long, I would have spilled the secret. I wanted to surprise you by coming here a few hours earlier than usual. I hope that's alright.” Brigitte whispered, wondering if she had crossed a boundary by showing up unexpectedly.

“Absolutely! I love that you’re here! And this is your home too!” Emmanuel confessed. “I have a lot planned for us tonight!”

Her wry smile was filled with confusion. “Like what?”

Picking up her empty plate and his, he placed the dirty dishes in the sink. “First, I’ll make a special bath just for you. I bought a new bubble bath that I know you’ll love - vanilla-scented. And then you’ll lay on the bed while I give you a full body massage. After that….”

She interrupted him politely. “I don’t like this.”

His face flushed red, “what’s wrong with my plan?”

Brigitte kissed his cheek. "It doesn’t include you. Your tub is large enough for both of us. Let’s start there and see where the night takes us. In fact….” She removed her sweater and playfully threw it at him. “Let’s get started now.”

Like a lightning bolt, Brigitte took off to the bathroom giggling, ready to start their evening.

When Emmanuel finally caught up to her, he was speechless.

“Chéri, if you’re staring this hard now, how will you be when you have me naked in the bathtub? This sight isn’t new for you,” she giggled, standing before him in a white sheer bra and matching panties.

Emmanuel shook his head, focusing on her bright blue eyes this time. “I’ll never get used to this…. To your body. To you. Everything about you is beautiful and perfect, not just your physical appearance, Chérie. Your brain, your heart, and your sharp wit.”

“I feel the same way about you,” Brigitte replied, tugging on his belt. “Now, will you please catch up? I believe I was promised a bubble bath with my very sexy boyfriend, and he is still completely dressed. That’s not proper bathroom etiquette.”

“I’m not complaining. My view is spectacular,” Emmanuel winked, grateful for every decision in his life that led him to her. 

Chapter Text

He noticed as she winced slightly getting in the car on the way back to their hotel, noticed the way she was trying to avoid detection, as if she wanted to suffer in silence. He frowned at that, upset she was hiding her pain from him.

He knew she never wanted to be a bother, knew she always tried to keep a smile on her face, especially for him, knew she never was really just joking whenever she mentioned her talent for being happy. But she also knew she was his first concern, always. In his eyes it was never how he felt about something, but how did it impact her. Which meant sometimes he noticed she bent over backwards not to add to the world already resting on his shoulders.

"Are you okay, chérie?" He asked, gently slipping his hand in hers, entangling their fingers together until he could run his thumb gently on the back of her palm.

"I’m fine," she smiled, her eyes a little dulled. "Just been a long, fun day."

"Mhmm," he wordlessly hummed, puzzling over her response.

He was so grateful for this weekend away. Grateful for the time away from the pressures and the stresses he had been under lately, a world where nothing he says or does is enough for people (except her, never her) but the stakes of getting it wrong, of not being enough now were oh-so-high; grateful for the time spent in this place that held so many memories, from his childhood with Manette to their newlywed bliss, one of those yearly traditions that meant the world to him; grateful to spend time with her, his soft place to land, his safe space, his harbor and his anchor.

He knows how much he was asking of her, knows how much planning this trip took on top of all the important work she does too. He knows how much she has sacrificed, continues to sacrifice for him. And he knows as much as he doesn’t want to think about it, she is getting older, they both are, and the slopes are not as easy on her body as they once were.

He stared at her as she looked out the window as the blurry, snowy scenery whizzed past, feeling the way her hand was more slack in his than usual, looking for anything indicating there was something more than just the exhaustion he could see no matter how much she tried to hide it from him.

He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before letting it go once they pulled up to the hotel, quick in his steps around the car to meet her as her door opened. He smiled at her bodyguard as he slipped in and took over the watchful care of his wife, wincing himself at the way he watched her build a front to protect him.

As the door to their suite closed behind them, he leaned in to whisper the first step of the plan he had been formulating on the drive over into her ear. "Stay right here for me, while I start you a nice relaxing bath."

"I can do that, chéri," Brigitte pulled back, protesting.

"What’s wrong?" He asked, not letting her continue to suffer in silence.

"Nothing’s wrong," she tried to deny.

"Is it the Tiphaine thing?"

"No. No, it’s not that."

"Then what is it, Brigitte? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me."

"I’m getting old," she sighed, feeling every one of her almost 72 years after the long hard day on the slopes. "And I’m hurting. And I didn’t want you to notice so now I’m mad at myself!"

"Why didn’t you want me to know?" He asked horrified that she would want to keep that from him. How badly had he failed her that she thought she had to push through literal pain to make him happy? What kind of monster was he?

"Because I’m getting old!"

"Chérie-"

"No! I’m not going to be able to keep up with you more and more as the years go by, and you’re going to resent me for holding you back, until one day you’re going to fall out of love with me and go searching for a younger model, and I’ll die alone heartbroken!"

"You do know none of that is true," he whispered gently, approaching her as if he was approaching a wounded animal, carefully taking her into his arms, rocking her soothingly as she sobbed. "I’m not going anywhere," he kept repeating until she calmed down.

"I love you," he said firmly, leaving no room for questioning when she had finally calmed down. "I’m never leaving you. Not for any reason, but certainly not for someone else. I could never resent you. You are the single greatest thing that has ever happened and will ever happen to me.

"I knew when we started this all those years ago, one day there may be things we couldn’t do the same anymore. But it has never for one second given me any pause. Because I love you. All of you. Come here," he said, moving them gently in front of the full length mirror, moving to stand behind her so she could see herself as he sees her.

He noticed the way she refused to make eye contact in the mirror, the way she purposefully was avoiding his gaze. "Look at me," he commanded gently, smiling at her bright blue eyes finally connected with his for the first time since dinner.

"There you are," he said reverently before continuing his instructions. "Now, look. Really look for me. Look at yourself through my eyes. See how I can’t even begin to put all I feel about you into words because some things are so deeply felt, so innate, they cannot be spoken. See how well we fit together, how we were carved out of dust and atoms for each other, one soul beating in two bodies.

"The only place I will ever go is where you have commanded me."

He watched as his words sunk in, felt as her breathing became steadier, her back pushing against his chest, her stomach gently rising and falling under his hands, the tension leaving her shoulders as his chin dropped where it rested, her head falling slightly to rest against his. He gave her the time she needed to push through the doubts that had clearly been compiling in her mind, making a note to himself to try harder to fend them off at the start.

"I love you, so much," she finally whispered, ready to turn around again in his arms.

"It’s not nearly as much as I love you," he replied, leaning in to kiss her in a way that left no doubts as to the depths of his feelings. "Now," he huffed a little out of breath as he pulled back. "Come to bed. I want you to feel exactly how much I will always need you.”

Chapter Text

They returned to their suite, giggling and wrapped in each other’s arms. It was late, and they had casually walked back from the cozy restaurant they had gone to for dinner.

“I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom,” Emmanuel laughed, falling on the couch and pulling her on top of him. Brigitte was relieved that it wasn’t only her who was tired after hours of skiing. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep until noon.

He began slowly by rubbing her shoulders, knowing just how much pressure to apply to her aching muscles.

“Mmm, that feels so good,” Brigitte moaned, enjoying his expertise. Wanting more skin-on-skin contact, she sat up quickly to remove her sweater. Wearing only a bra, she turned her back to him so he could continue. Emmanuel swallowed hard, feeling himself getting in the mood. He didn’t expect anything from her tonight - hell, they were both exhausted.

When he was done, and her muscles were loosening up, Brigitte turned to face him. “Let me work on you now.”

“No, let’s go to bed.” Emmanuel knew she was sore and tired; the last thing he wanted was for her to massage him. Taking care of her didn’t mean he expected something in return.

An hour later, they fell asleep in each other's arms like any other day, with zero regard for personal space. They promised to have a leisurely morning and sleep as late as possible. But when Brigitte woke up and found him still asleep, snoring lightly, she had devised another plan.

Diving under the covers, Brigitte carefully pushed his boxers down, happy when he sprang to attention.

It wouldn’t take much to get him ready, so she started slowly but kissing the tip.

“Brigitte?!” He called out, lifting the covers immediately to see her smiling face.

“I thought this would be a nice way to be woken up,” she winked, never losing eye contact as she took him inside her warm mouth.

Throwing his head back, he wanted to prolong this much-welcomed surprise, but he knew he was jello when she did this (especially first thing in the morning.)

“Brigitte…. Oh God,” he moaned, grabbing her hair while she relaxed her throat to take him deeper. She knew he was close by the intensity with which he pulled her hair and the loud grunts he was making. When Emmanuel came, Brigitte happily swallowed everything, licking her lips when she released him.

“That was the best morning surprise, Chérie.” Emmanuel kissed her hard on the mouth, smiling when he tasted himself on her lips.

Brigitte cuddled close to his body, resting her head against his chest. “Thank you for taking care of me last night.”

“I should be the one thanking you for that wake-up call.”

“I do it because I love you,” Brigitte smiled brightly. “And because I love doing it.”

He brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face to see her beautiful eyes, “well, if we’re doing things we love, let me have some fun then.”

“What did you have in mind?” Brigitte asked, running her fingers lazily through his chest hair.

Emmanuel smirked, “I’ll show you rather than tell you.”

With that, he took position between her legs, lapping her up like the Brigitte-obsessed man he was. 

Chapter Text

She intended to cook dinner for them, but Brigitte was tired when she arrived at Emmanuel’s apartment. It had been an abnormally busy week at work, and the train ride to Paris was full of delays, but she didn’t want to dampen their weekend. Their time together was limited, and she tried to make every minute count.

“I have a wonderful meal planned for us, but can I rest my eyes for twenty minutes?” Brigitte asked before taking a seat on his leather couch.

“Take a nap in the bedroom. The bed is much comfier than the couch—you should know that” Emmanuel offered, laughing from experience. Anytime they started fooling around on the couch, they promptly found their way to the bedroom and onto his bed to finish their lovemaking.

She shook her head politely. “I only want to nap for half an hour, at the most. If I rest in your bed, I’ll be out for hours!”

“Then let me at least grab you a pillow,” he replied, kissing her lips and fetching a pillow from the other room. “Goodnight, Chérie. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Brigitte woke up startled and confused three hours later, blinking rapidly at her surroundings. For a split second, she had forgotten where she was. She didn’t remember falling asleep under a fleece blanket. And where were her pants? From the waist down, she was wearing only her panties. Her throat was dry, and she had no idea what time it was. Emmanuel’s tiny apartment felt eerie quiet, a change from the usual noise he would create from performing the most minor of tasks.

When she heard the front door slam, Brigitte sat up, startled.

“Shit! I am so sorry if I woke you,” Emmanuel cursed as he gently kicked off his shoes. He held a brown paper bag and a tray of drinks, desperately trying not to drop anything.

She wrapped the blanket around her waist and helped him carry everything into the kitchen.

“What’s all this?” Brigitte asked, smelling the delicious content through the plastic containers.

“I’ll let you know when you drop the blanket. Why are you hiding from me?” Emmanuel asked, not understanding why she was suddenly shy.

“Oh, I’m sorry, just a habit of living with children for the last 20 years,” Brigitte remarked, tossing the blanket on the back of a kitchen chair. “By the way, did you remove my pants?”

He laughed out loud and replied: “It wasn’t easy! You were squirming, but I didn’t think you would have slept comfortably in your skin-tight jeans.”

Brigitte joined him at the table, grateful for everything he had done. He had picked up takeout from her favourite restaurant down the street so she wouldn't have to cook. While she slept, Emmanuel ensured she was comfortable by removing her pants and throwing a blanket over her body.

“How was your nap?” he asked, taking a bite of his chicken sandwich. “Do you feel better?”

Nodding, she took a sip of wine. “I slept so well that I forgot where I was when I woke up. I hope I didn’t waste too much of our evening.”

Emmanuel lovingly kissed her, tasting the wine on her lips, “Not at all. Feel free to nap anytime. I would have joined you, but I wasn’t tired.”

Giggling, Brigitte replied, “You never are! You’re the only man I know who sleeps less than three hours a night and still wakes up with plenty of energy!”

Mocking jealously, he spoke up. “How many men’s sleep patterns do you know?”

“Not that many…Maybe three, four…maybe seven,” she teased, loving how he gets worked up when she brings up other male suitors. She doesn’t do it out of cruelty - seeing her boyfriend get possessive is just for fun. (And it makes the sex more wild).

“You’re going to pay for that comment,” Emmanuel growled, knowing that she was a loyal girlfriend and that everything said was all in fun.

“The good thing about a nap, Chéri, is now I’m energized and can keep up with you tonight.” Brigitte’s voice was dripping with seduction.

“That’s never been a problem before,” Emmanuel remarked. “Sometimes, I have trouble keeping up with you.”

“Well, now that we’re full of energy and this delicious meal, we’ll have the stamina to keep up with each other tonight,” Brigitte winked, excited to reveal the sexy outfit she packed for him to enjoy tonight.

She had only one rule: he had to undo the knots with his teeth.

But the prize was worth it. 

Chapter Text

"No," Brigitte whined, barely pushing back on his chest in protest as he snuck another kiss, then another, then a longer one, leaving her breathless again. "Chéri, I have to go," she insisted when they separated again for air.

"You can be late," Emmanuel insisted, moving his mouth towards that spot on her neck that always renders her putty in his hands, that had worked its magic not thirty minutes ago.

"I’m already late," she moaned, trying to pull herself away. "This is for sick kids in the hospital. I can’t keep them waiting too long."

"Fine," he pouted as he forced himself to separate, letting his arms go from their tight hold around her waist, that had been anchoring her into his lap.

"You act as if I’m depriving you!" She rolled her eyes as she scrambled off his lap, quickly pulling her underwear back into place, and smoothing down her dress, trying to look like they hadn’t just been fooling around on the couch in his office.

"Of a second round, you are!"

"You can wait until I get back home," she scolded gently, her hand gently patting his cheek.

"Doesn’t mean I want to," he mumbled, leaning up for one last kiss before she left.

"I love you," she rolled her eyes lovingly. "I’ll be home soon."

"Love you!" Emmanuel called back with a little wave as she exited, sighing and righting himself before he had to let his reality back in.

She couldn’t help but notice the weird smirk Tristan had in the car next to her on the ride to the hospital for her engagement. Every time she looked over out of the corner of her eye she noticed he clearly had a thought about something.

"Is something wrong?" She finally asked when she was fed up of the guessing game.

"No, Madame," Tristan answered, a shit eating grin still on his face.

"Is it my hair? Something in my teeth?"

"You look fine," he reassured.

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what? This is just my face, Ma’am."

Brigitte sighed, but chose to let it go. If he wasn’t going to tell her, she couldn’t very well make him, no matter how much it was getting on her nerves.

That feeling followed her for the rest of the morning as she noticed the side glances from her guards, and the laugh she could have sworn she heard from Didier behind her back.

"Did someone put a kick me sign on my back?" She finally snapped at Didier when they found themselves away from the cameras in an elevator.

"No, Brigitte. You look fine," he answered, stifling a laugh.

"Then what on Earth is everyone laughing at?"

"You really don’t know?" He asked in disbelief.

"No! If I did, I would fix it!" She huffed.

"Brigitte, you were thirty minutes late, and you smell like your husband. We’re laughing at the fact you think we don’t know what you were doing."

"Oh my God!" Brigitte blushed furiously, absolutely mortified.

"Only those of us who know you both have figured it out. Your secret is safe. From the press corp at least."

"Oh God," she groaned. "You’re never going to let me live this one down, am I?"

"And miss the rare opportunity to give you a genuine hard time? Not a chance. But my advice? Spray your own perfume on again after, next time."

"I will," she reassured, bright pink.

Brigitte tried her best to maintain her composure for the rest of the visit, which became significantly easier when she was surrounded by the children, their little faces full of wonder and joy despite their hardships always fueling her to be better, work harder for them.

She had managed to get away with it until a nosy paparazzi called out as she was getting in the car, "how’s your husband," bringing her mind instantly back to what they were doing before they left.

"He’s great," she mumbled, trying not to blush at just how great he was, especially when he was - she was able to subtle shake off the thought as she slipped into the back seat, closing her eyes and banging her head gently against the head rest, counting down until she could have a little talk with her husband at home.

"Chérie!" Emmanuel beamed as she walked into his office. "How did it go? Are we adopting any more godchildren today?" He joked, knowing his wife could never say no to a cute kid or their frightened parents if they asked.

"We need to talk," she sighed, sitting on the desk opposite him rather than in his lap.

"This doesn’t sound good."

"I smell like you," Brigitte said simply.

"And that’s bad because?"

"Because when you couple it with the fact I was 30 minutes late, everyone could figure out what we were doing."

"Well, not exactly what we were doing, I bet they didn’t know about that little move where I -"

"Emmanuel! I’m being serious! It was embarrassing!" She almost teared up.

"Why is the fact we love each other so much embarrassing?" He asked hurt.

"Because they were all laughing at me behind my back."

"Oh, Brigitte. I’m so sorry. Come here, chérie," he opened his arms, taking her inside them gently when she moved to curl up in his lap. "Who? Who do you want me to fire?"

"They’re good at their jobs," she mumbled in their defense.

"We’ll circle back to it," he agreed for the time being, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I promise to take it easier on the cologne."

"No! I love the way you smell. I love knowing you’re never far away as long as I can smell you. It’s comforting. Maybe, just, give me enough time next time to do some damage control?"

"Done," he promised. After a few beats of contented silence he ventured, "so you like how I smell, huh?"

"Oh, shut up!"

Chapter Text

He knows she hates when people make a big fuss over her. Especially on her birthday. She, who loves throwing the biggest celebrations for every other member of their family suddenly turns into the shyest flower when it was her turn.

He has long suspected that humble though she is, and she is humble - one of the kindest, noblest souls he has ever met - it has less to do with who she is, and more to do with the elephant in the room they never discuss, her age.

Most of the time, if he was honest, he doesn’t even notice it. He’s the old soul of the two, and he is brutally reminded of that fact every time she is the hip one: with their grandkids, with their guests, with the artists who play the concerts she plans. She is brilliant, and witty, sharp as a tack and quicker than lightening when she sets her mind on something. She is strong, powerful, graceful, their long, loving walks she frequently conquers in shoes that really should be reclassified as torture devices. And so very, very beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world, in his eyes, especially when he gets to see her, really see her, bare in the morning as those baby blues first blink awake, and the first tentative smile lights up her face.

He knew she has had a rough year, because of him, because the hate that everyone seems to carry for him has targeted her, his only true weakness. He knows what he owes her - everything - and he knows what she deserves - more than him, better than him. So as he sat in his office puzzling over what he planned to do, this year especially, in addition to the gifts he planned to lay at her feet, it struck him as maybe, maybe being a balm to multiple wounds.

The first one was easy. He pressed his lips firmly, gently to the spot on her neck they both love so much, his two day stubble slightly scratching as his still sleep heavy voice gently sang happy birthday in her ear.

"Mhmm," she sighed happily as she woke. "Thank you, chérie," she rolled over to fully face him allowing him to lean in and kiss her senseless.

Another followed until he was at two, three, four, five - as he rolled her on her back, gently pressing her into the mattress, greedily sneaking the kisses as he went.

"Happy birthday, mon cœur," he finally, properly wished, throughly breathless and he held himself above her, careful not to squash her. "I love you so very, very much. I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am for you."

"I have a bit of an idea," she replied, smirking. "I‘m ready for my first gift now," she continued eyes dark and excited, her arms looping around his next as she stole six, seven, eight from his lips.

As his brain slowly started working again, while her head rested gently on his chest, her finger tracing circles on his skin while he ran his hand up and down her back, he realized somewhere after number ten he lost track. He restarted the count with eleven when she looked at up him with so much love in her eyes he couldn’t help himself. "I love you," he whispered when he pulled back.

"I love you too," she giggled. "But you don’t need to keep saying it just because it’s my birthday."

"I do need to keep saying it, because I feel it, I mean it, each and every time I say it. Brigitte, I love you so much. I think, I think my heart gets a little bigger every day, that every time I look at you, there’s something inside me that shifts a little, making just that much more space for you, to hold you, to hold how much I feel for you."

"You’re going to make me cry," she tried to deflect.

"I don’t want that! I just need you to know, I don’t just say it. They’re not meaningless words to me."

"I know words are never meaningless to you. No matter what you do, I will come back and I will marry you? I know very well how much you measure what you say."

"Words can be meaningless, but you are my meaning."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen are mixed with her tears as she thanks him wordlessly, as she conveys in her turn in her way, just how much she loves him too.

She notices by number twenty he was up to something. Not that he wasn’t often affectionate, in fact, she was grateful that even after almost thirty years together that spark was still burning bright. But it was unusual, even for him, even on a day like today when she knows he goes out of his way to love her.

"What are you up to?" She finally asked, her eyebrow raised pointedly, and he knew he was in for it.

"What do you mean?" He tried to play the fool, setting his newspaper down at the breakfast table.

"You kissed me after you grabbed a napkin."

"Can’t I kiss my wife?"

"You can. But you don’t normally kiss me like that."

"You look so beautiful -"

"And I have a bridge to sell you. Come on. Out with it."

"I wanted to do something for your birthday-" he started to explain.

"Chéri, you know I don’t need a big celebration."

"And why is that?" He asked. "Chérie, you celebrate everyone else so much. But when it’s your turn you want to duck and run. Why is that?"

"I just don’t want people to make a big fuss over me," she mumbled.

"But you deserve one. Brigitte, everything you do for me? For this whole family? You deserve everything.

"And I was afraid the real reason you don’t like a fuss made isn’t because you’re humble, although you are humble. I was afraid it was because of the number you’re turning today."

"Oh. That," she replied in a tone that made clear his fear wasn’t fully unfounded.

"You do know age is literally just a number to me right? I couldn’t care less how old you were, how old I am. The only number that matters to me is the number of days since I first met you. So I thought of something a little creative, maybe to show you just how much I mean that -"

"One kiss for every year?" She finished the thought, knowing the way he thinks as well as she knows her own thoughts.

"One kiss for every year," he smiled back. "Although, I lost count in bed earlier -"

"Oh, that good huh?" She laughed.

"You know you render me speechless. Is it a surprise you render me thoughtless too?"

"No, I guess not,” she smiled.

"So it will likely be a bit more than that, unless you have any complaints?”

"No, I can’t think of any right now, but maybe I’ll think of one-“ He cut her off with number twenty one.

Chapter Text

Emmanuel knew precisely where he’d display the framed photo of his girlfriend. He was proud of himself for garnering the courage to ask Brigitte’s children for a photograph of their mother. Laurence had been the one to come through, providing him with a few options and allowing him to keep any other ones he wanted.

Now, Emmanuel stood in his apartment admiring the photo of his Brigitte. It was an action shot of her laughing. Based on her appearance, the picture was taken only a few years ago—roughly around when they met.

Across the hall in his bedroom was a photo for his eyes only. Wearing a pink bikini, Brigitte posed against a tree while looking happily at the camera. Before taking the picture, Emmanuel ensured the smile wasn’t for her husband. Laurence assured him it wasn’t.

“Emmanuel! I’m here!” Brigitte announced, using her key to enter his place.

When he ran to the door to greet her, she fell into his arms, savouring his familiar scent.

“I missed you,” she whispered, not wanting to break away from his body.

When Brigitte turned her neck, she spotted something she had never seen before - her photograph on the TV stand.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, pulling away. The frame he had purchased was beautiful and perfectly fit his decor—black glass with a masculine silver trim. But it was her picture inside that caught Brigitte’s attention.

“From the children. I asked them for pictures of my beautiful woman, and they delivered the goods! Boy, did they ever…Now, I can look at you every day!” Emmanuel beamed brightly.

Like a kid in a candy shop, he grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom to show her the more intimate photo he had on his nightstand—again, courtesy of Laurence.

Brigitte gasped when she saw the photo he had chosen. She covered her mouth with the palm of her hand and looked away. A reaction that wasn’t lost on Emmanuel.

It was an expression of worry, and Emmanuel’s stomach flipped because he was the cause of this.

“You don’t like this picture?” He asked, trying to get a hold of the situation.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, she chose her next words carefully. “I’m a lot … younger in that photo. Is this how you wish I still looked?”

“No! No! Never! I just loved the picture when Laurence showed it to me! I had to have it. Chérie, you should know how much I love and appreciate your body now too!”

Brigitte’s face softened, and Emmanuel felt like he was on top of the world again. Just so there was no doubt in her mind, he pushed her on the bed and climbed on top.

When Brigitte caught her breath, Emmanuel pulled her dress over her head and tossed it to the side, leaving her lying on his bed in nothing but a matching bra and panties set—one he had never seen before.

He retreated as she grabbed his waist, choosing to rummage through his drawers instead.

“What are you looking for?” Brigitte asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious while covering her body with the bedsheets.

“Here it is!” Emmanuel exclaimed, triumphantly pulling out the camera buried in the bottom of his sock drawer.

Blushing profusely, Brigitte gasped, “What are you going to do with that?”

“I am going to take a bunch of pictures of my sexy girlfriend!” Emmanuel grinned, clicking away while aiming the camera in her direction.

“Emmanuel!” She shrieked, smacking his hand away as he got closer. “I’m practically naked!”

“How is this different from that bikini picture?”

“Because I’m not posing for these! Wait! How about a compromise?!” Brigitte suggested, blocking the lens with her hand.

He wanted to hear this, so he set the camera carefully on the bed.

“I’ll allow you to take some photos of me this weekend, but only with a Polaroid camera! I will not have random people at a photo studio develop this film! What if a former student of mine or a friend of yours works there?”

Emmanuel nodded, agreeing to the compromise immediately (and embarrassed he hadn’t thought of that himself). My Brigitte.

As luck would have it, he had a Polaroid camera in his apartment. However, the pictures he intended to take would be for his eyes only; not even a frame would have the honour of displaying them. 

Chapter Text

He sighed in deep relief as he shut the last file for the night, proud of himself he was only a few minutes late.

It was his favorite night of the week: date night. While he always insisted that it was his way to make sure Brigitte was happy, that she was able to keep her own personal balance, his personal recognition for all her sacrifices, he would be lying if he didn’t admit it was for him too. Having these nights with her, good food, great wine, and romantic walks in the most beautiful city in the world, these moments where he can be just Emmanuel, just a man hopelessly, endlessly, eternally in love with his wife, anchored him too.

"Chérie! I’m all yours!" He declared happily as he opened the door to their private apartment, frowning when he realized she wasn’t waiting on him from her customary position on the couch.

"I’m in the bathroom!" She hollered back in reply, knowing by now he had started to panic.

His mouth dropped as he turned the corner and saw her, gently finishing her last touch ups on her make up, standing there in the highest leather boots he’s ever seen. "Wow," he whistled out, trying to puzzle out how they made her legs look so endless. "Can we just skip straight to dessert?"

"You like them?" She turned from the mirror to smile teasingly at him. "Nicholas thought they were too much for me, but I thought you’d be a fan."

"How am I supposed to get through dinner knowing you’re wearing that?" His needy groan more than enough confirmation her instinct was right.

"I’m sure you’ll manage," she winked. "Come on, we’re going to one of your favorites for dinner," she looped her arm through his as they walked towards the door.

"La rotonde?" He brightened, knowing it had been awhile since they were there.

"Not quite. It’s that pizza place we discovered last year with the quiet little booth -"

"In our own little world," he completed her thought.

"It’s like you read my mind," she smiled as they separated briefly to slide into the back seat, his hand quickly coming to rest high on her thigh as soon as the door closed, needing to keep contact with her.

He loved the mindless little chatter while the city wizzed by in the background, the little pieces of gossip they had collected through the day, the opportunity just to listen to the warm sound of her voice which had always managed to settle his heart rate.

"Madame," he offered his arm with a cheeky smile, prompting a playful eye roll from her in reply as he greeted her at the opened car door to walk the very short distance into the restaurant and into the back corner booth, shaded in view from the curious onlookers who couldn’t quite believe they were in fact themselves.

"What looks good, chéri?" She asked after the stammering waiter had managed to hand them their menus.

"The usual?" He asked.

"You’re not feeling experimental tonight?" She teased.

Leaning in closer he whispered in her ear the reply, "well, not here at least. Ask me again when we get home."

"I’ll hold you to that," she kissed his cheek gently before leaning back to a safe distance.

"Are you ready to order, Sir?" The waiter finally came back to ask.

"Yes, we’ll split a bottle of this red here," he said, pointing to one of the better wines on the menu, "and we’ll split the margarita pizza."

"One pizza?" The waiter confirmed confused.

“We’re splitting everything. You don’t even need to bring two plates,” Emmanuel clarified.

“Two glasses and two plates, please,” Brigitte smiled, rolling her eyes internally at his antics. “We’re in public!” She scolded lightly when the waiter left.

“And you eat off my plate at home!”

“That’s where there aren’t hundreds of eyes on us!”

“Oh relax, no one is paying attention.”

“And what if that waiter tells the tabloids!”

“So my wife and I share food,” he shrugged. “Brigitte, we swap a lot more than spit.”

“Oh god!” Brigitte blushed.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it, chérie,” he teased as he slipped his hand up under the skirt of her dress, resting it on the bare skin of her upper thigh, rubbing his fingers against her sensitive skin.

“You’re playing with fire right now,” Brigitte tried to hold back her moan as she saw the waiter approach with their wine - and two glasses.

Emmanuel removed his hand discreetly before offering a toast, “to my gorgeous wife.”

“You’re really laying it on thick tonight. Trying to get lucky?”

“Can’t a man spoil his wife without an ulterior motive?” Emmanuel defended himself as the waiter slid the pizza on to the table and backed away quickly, realizing he was in the middle of something.

Halfway through their meal, Brigitte felt his free hand on her thigh for the third time in as many minutes, “it’s the boots, isn’t it?”

Emmanuel laughed heartily. “They don’t hurt.”

Chapter Text

"Chéri? Do you have a minute?" Brigitte asked with a gentle smile as she popped her head through the back door of his office, the documents she had just been sent burning a hole in her pocket. It was hard enough to keep this a secret from him for the last few weeks since her last consultation with her lawyer, and now that she had it in her hands, she couldn’t wait any longer to tell him.

"For you? I have all the minutes!" Emmanuel beamed in response, joking in the same way he always did, pleased for this unexpected delight of her visit.

"Great! I have a couple of things I want you to look over," she said, sliding the pages in front of him on his desk, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she pulled back to give him the space to process it in his own time.

She saw the moment he first really read it, saw the way he had to check another two times to make sure he was reading it right before he turned around to her with confused eyes. "Brigitte? What is this?"

"It’s a trust."

"I can see that. But for what?"

"Our home in Touquet."

"What’s, what’s my name doing on here? This is your house!"

"No, it’s our house," she stressed as she sat herself on the edge of his desk, grabbing his hands in hers, knowing this was going to be a longer conversation. "And I was talking with our lawyer about all the plans we’ve been talking about for after this. He pointed out that whether we sell, or not, it was time I start thinking about other things…"

"Other things?" Emmanuel asked, still not following.

"Estate planning," she said as gently as she could, knowing he hates even thinking about the subject.

"Brigitte -" he started, eyes wide in panic.

"Not for any time soon! Not for any time soon. I’m fine, chéri, I’m fine. I’m right here," she soothed, moving one of the hands she was hold to over her beating heart, where he could feel the steady familiar rhythm. When he had calmed down she continued, "but he pointed out, right now, I’m the only one with an ownership interest, so it would leave you in a precarious position after. And it got me thinking, that didn’t feel right."

"Our kids would take care of me -"

"They would. But, more importantly, it didn’t feel right because it isn’t just my house. It hasn’t been just my house since the moment you first stepped through that front door."

"But the kids -"

"Are still apart of this. Look, they’re here too. But after you."

"You don’t need to do this, chérie."

"Yes I do, but more importantly, I want to. Let me do this for you. Let me love you this much. Because I do love you this much."

"I don’t know what to say. You’re really, you’re really giving me your house?"

"I can’t give you something that’s already yours! Chéri, I mean it. It’s your home. Anywhere I am, anywhere I will ever be is yours. This just makes it legally official."

"My wife is the most incredible woman in the whole world. How did I get so very lucky?"

"I ask myself that every day," Brigitte replied with a smile. More seriously, she continued, resting one hand lovingly against his cheek, forcing him to look at her, "there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and there’s nothing I think you don’t deserve."

"I don’t think I could ever repay you for this, for everything."

"You do! Every single day. Every single morning when you kiss me awake, every night when you cuddle me until I’m asleep, every text checking in because you miss me or are thinking about me, every time you hold my hand in yours while we walk, each and every moment you love me so completely."

"That doesn’t feel like a fair exchange. You get me, whereas I get you."

"You’re right, it’s not fair. I got the best part of that bargain!"

"Brigitte!"

"Just shut up and kiss me!"

"Always."

Chapter Text

She had been trying to reach him all evening to no avail. He usually called her first, but she decided to make the first move when she hadn’t heard from him at their usual time. Her five calls had gone unanswered. Brigitte considered what Emmanuel could be up to. He was the type of boyfriend who shared everything with his partner; no detail was ever skipped when they discussed their day. Even simple tasks, such as grocery shopping, were mentioned during these phone calls. Up until now, Brigitte thought he looked forward to their conversations. That is why something was suspicious tonight.

At night, she fell asleep with tears in her eyes, worried sick that something had happened to her boyfriend. Brigitte was startled awake by her phone ringing. Rubbing her eyes, she focused on the clock: 1:21 a.m.

“Hello,” she answered, groggy and half-asleep.

“Brigittteeee…” Emmanuel slurred on the other end of the line.

Her heart raced rapidly, curious if he had just returned from a night out. She had only known him to be drunk once before, after the two of them successfully polished off a bottle of wine in his apartment.

“Are you drunk?” Brigitte asked, wondering if he was alone. “Were you spending time with your buddies?”

Emmauel was extremely truthful, so it was worrisome that she didn’t know where he had been for several hours.

“No,” he replied casually. “I wasn’t with my buddies.”

She closed her eyes and fought back the tears that were begging to fall. “So, you were with women?”

“Women? You honestly think I would be hanging out with women when I have you?” Emmanuel laughed, his words coming out quickly. “Guess again…”

Brigitte was in no mood for his vague answers. He sounded off, sneakingly failing to explain what he had been up to. She was tired of beating around the bush.

“Where were you then?”

“I can’t tell you,” Emmanuel replied with a bored yawn, resting his head on his pillow.

“Why not?” Brigitte bit her tongue, her blood boiling from his mysterious attitude. Couldn’t he hear that she was frightened?

He adjusted himself, trying to find a comfortable spot on his bed. “Because it’s a surprise.”

She was even more confused now than at the start of their conversation.

“A surprise? I don’t have time for games, Emmanuel.” With that, she hung up the phone and unplugged it from the wall. Her children knew where to find her if they needed her.

For now, she just needed peace and quiet.

By the time morning came around, Brigitte felt dreadful. She had only slept for two hours before her alarm woke her up. She had no idea—nor did she care—if Emmanuel tried to call her back.

It was only a half-day at her school, so Brigitte called in sick and returned to bed. When a familiar scent breezed through her house, she woke up, wiggling her nose.

“Brigitte!!!” Emmanuel yelled from the kitchen, using the table for support. “Where are you?”

Throwing on an old sweatshirt that she once stole from his closet, Brigitte raced down to find him.

“There you are!!” he exclaimed, hugging her weakly. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. The principal said you phoned in sick. My calls weren’t going through last night! What is going on?”

Instantly, she knew something was wrong. Pain was evident on his face as he leaned on the table for balance. He winced in pain as he attempted to stand up straight.

“Are you okay?” Brigitte asked, her anger depleting.

Closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip, he fought back discomfort. “Do you have an ice pack or a bag of frozen peas?” Emmanuel sat down and waited until she retrieved a bag of ice from her freezer. Gratefully taking it from her hands, he placed it on his lap.

“Emmanuel, do you mind telling me what’s going on? Why are you being secretive?” Brigitte’s eyes were fixated on his groin area.

He nodded, realizing now was the time to come clean. “This is the surprise. Chérie, I got a vasectomy.”

The gears in her head were turning fast. Suddenly, everything was making sense. His drunken slurs on the phone were from pain medicine, not alcohol. He must have gotten home from the procedure and gone straight to bed.

“Why.. Why did you do this?” Brigitte asked, surprised he would go through such great lengths.

Yet, it wasn’t a complete shock.

After numerous heartfelt discussions, they had concluded that he didn’t need biological kids. Rather than Brigitte taking birth control pills that occasionally made her sick, he stepped up to the plate.

“You have sacrificed so much for me. This is the least I could do for you… for us. I’m sorry if I scared you,” Emmanuel apologized, kissing her inner wrist.

“May I?!” She asked, pointing to his lap. “I’ll be gentle.”

He nodded confidently, “Your love is worth the pain - please just sit on my thigh.”

Brigitte didn’t know what to say; she was too overwhelmed by his selfish act. A simple thank you seemed insufficient.

She kissed his soft lips and brushed her fingers through his wavy brown hair. “When you’re feeling better, you must let me know. I have just the perfect way to thank you.”

“Tell me what’s going through that brilliant mind, Chérie,” Emmanuel asked, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Whispering the naughtiest, most filthiest plans in his ear, she giggled when his body reacted to her descriptive words.

“Don’t laugh, Brigitte! This hurts like hell! When I’m feeling better, I’m punishing you!”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she baited, running her tongue along his lips.

“You know I always keep a promise,” Emmanuel replied, adjusting the ice bag. “We have a lot to catch up on. For starters, I need to know why you’re not at work today, Madame. So, let’s go upstairs, crawl into bed and spend the rest of the day there.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve heard all week. Are you able to stay until Monday? I’ll take good care of you.” Brigitte smiled, her eyelashes flickering with hope.

“I’m in a lot of pain. Let’s make it … two weeks,” he teased, never wanting to return to his empty apartment without her. His heart beat for this spectacular woman. Furthermore, being in town allowed him easier access to her children. He had things he needed to discuss with them.

Well, one particular thing. And he didn’t care that she had only been his girlfriend for a few years. When he was 17 years old, he made her a promise he was desperate to keep. 

Chapter Text

“Do I look presentable?” Emmanuel asked, fixing his wavy brown hair in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

Brigitte set the curling iron on the counter and focused on her nervous boyfriend. “You look great. My siblings will love you no matter what your hair looks like.”

Brigitte had chosen Christmas Eve, of all days, to introduce Emmanuel to her family. With their relationship growing more serious, it was finally right for them to meet the man who had captured their sister’s fragile heart. Unfortunately, Emmanuel was made painfully aware that he’d be facing the lion’s den alone. He knew how important family was to Brigitte, but he didn’t have the support of her three children today. His positive reinforcements had been respectfully invited to their father’s house for a Christmas lunch.

“Come on, Emmanuel. Put down the comb or we’re going to be late! You look deliciously handsome, and I’m proud to show up on your arm.”

The ten-minute car ride to her brother’s house was quiet and tense. Emmanuel was too busy thinking of everything that could go wrong instead of talking to his equally nervous, but still upbeat, passenger.

“I feel like everyone is watching us,” Emmanuel noted, opening the car door for Brigitte while catching the eyes of her siblings in the living room window.

Brigitte’s heart sank when she saw, through the panes of glass, the horrified looks on her family's faces. The whispering, paired with unhappy facial expressions, made her want to run back into the safe space of the car. Giving his girlfriend’s hand a gentle squeeze, Emmanuel rang the doorbell. What felt like an eternity was quickly rectified when her sister opened the door.

The atmosphere was frigid when the couple entered the cozy living space.

“Umm..Happy Christmas, this is Emmanuel,” Brigitte announced, awkwardly pointing to her uncomfortable boyfriend.

When everyone failed to move and no attempts were made to shake his hand, Emmanuel bit his fingernails. A nervous habit he had picked up as a child.

“I baked a cake,” Brigitte gestured to the brown bag in her left hand. “I… I hope everyone likes it.”

The silence was finally broken, and Emmanuel retreated into himself when her oldest brother made the first comment.

“This is your boyfriend? This is a joke, right?”

Having experienced all the unpleasant obstacles with Emmanuel’s parents, Brigitte hoped her siblings would be more understanding.

Without caring what they thought, Brigitte possessively grabbed Emmanuel’s arm and brought him closer. “Yes, this is my boyfriend, and you’ll be respectful toward him. We're leaving if a single comment about our age difference gets mentioned. I understand this might come as a shock to you, but Emmanuel is the greatest man I’ve ever known. So, if you can’t be polite…. ”

Raising his hand, Brigitte’s younger brother cut off her speech, not wanting his little sister to storm out on Christmas.

“We’ll get to know him. We’ll give him a chance, but you must understand what this looks like! You can’t waltz in here with some guy who looks like he just graduated from high school and expect us to be welcoming. We don’t know his intentions!”

“Give us some time!” Brigitte’s sister Annie piped up encouragingly.

Once the initial shock wore off, Brigitte left Emmanuel alone with her brothers - and their respective spouses - while she assisted her sister Monique in the kitchen.

As the two sisters silently peeled potatoes, Monique finally broke the awkward tension: “Brigitte, what are you doing with this man?”

“He loves me and I love him. Mon, here’s brilliant, funny, and thoughtful. Not to mention, attentive and caring. I could honestly go on and on about Emmanuel. I’ve never been in a relationship like this before. We understand each other and share a connection that I’ve never experienced with anyone else. I am very aware of the difference in our age. Trust me, I see it every time I look in the mirror or at a photograph, but I feel like a young woman when I’m with him. Words can’t begin to describe, none will ever suffice, how affectionate Emmanuel treats me. He makes me feel like the most important woman in the world.”

“What about the children?” Monique asked, feeling her attitude toward Emmanuel softening. It was evident that her little sister was undeniably in love.

Brigitte placed the peeler on the counter and turned to Monique with the largest smile plastered across her face. “They love him. With Laurence and Sebastien, he is more of a friend to them. The dynamic is much different with Tiphaine. She sees him as a father figure. He helps her with her homework, he taught her how to ski last month, and they share inside jokes.”

“No! You’re wrong!!!” Brigitte and Monique froze when they heard shouting from the next room. The brothers had ganged up on their guest.

“I am not! You’re not seeing it correctly! Let me explain!” Emmanuel’s voice was fiery but confident as he tried to argue his point of view.

Knowing she didn’t need to fight on his behalf, Brigitte watched her boyfriend defend his political views. He explained himself passionately, a side she often saw in the bedroom, as he rolled up his sleeves and combed his hair with his fingers. 

“Shouldn’t you jump in there?” Monique asked, elbowing her sister. “They’re going to destroy him!”

“Emmanuel can handle his own. I’m not worried. And look, he seems to be having fun proving his point,” Brigitte proudly said, her eyes trained on her boyfriend. “If he can handle his family, which he does brilliantly, Emmanuel can handle our brothers and their old-school views of this country.”

Monique crossed her arms and laughed. “Ooh, do you have a future politician on your hands?”

Shaking her head, Brigitte playfully rolled her eyes at her sister. “Absolutely not! Mark my words, he will write a history book one day, but not be mentioned in one.”

“We’ll see about that. Now, help me serve the salad and let’s break up this fight.” Monique urged, scooping up the appetizers.

“You call that a fight?” Brigitte laughed, grabbing the garlic bread. "This feels like heaven compared to his parents' house last night.”  

Chapter Text

They collapsed on the hotel room bed; the endless hours of travelling had finally caught up to them. As much as they wanted to take advantage of their final night in Rome, Brigitte and Emmanuel were rightfully exhausted.

After sharing a hot shower, they slipped into the hotel robes and turned on the television, hoping to find something mindlessly easy to watch. Settling on a corny Italian reality show about serial dating, the couple lay lazily together and mentally shut off the rest of the world.

As the evening progressed, Emmanuel grew hungry, remembering their last meal was something quick they had shared in the car.

“Would you like to go to that restaurant we passed on the way here?” Emmanuel asked as his stomach growled loudly.

Brigitte rarely said “no” to her husband, but tonight the last thing she wanted to do was get dressed (again) and leave their cozy hotel room. Staying in bed was too appealing. “Can we order room service instead?”

Emmanuel considered her suggestion for a split second before developing a better plan.

“Let’s ask one of our guards to pick up the food. That restaurant’s menu must be online. I’ll text them our order. We won’t have to leave the comfort of this bed.”

“Or even get dressed,” Brigitte added seductively, purposely allowing the hotel’s robe to open, and laughing when the slightest bit of saliva spilled from his mouth.

Emmanuel’s eyes remained on her bare breasts as he thought back to other daring dinners. “Wouldn’t be the first time we ate naked.”

“Or the last…”

After carefully reviewing the menu and picking what appeared most appetizing, Emmanuel texted his guard what they wanted, followed by strict orders to knock loudly when they returned.

When his phone buzzed, Emmanuel quickly read the text and repeated the gist to Brigitte. “Apparently, there’s a long line at the take-out counter. He won’t be back for another 15 minutes.”

“You know,” she teased, tying her robe’s belt loosely around his neck, “there’s a lot we can do in 15 minutes.”

“What did you have in mind?” Emmanuel grinned, knowing exactly where this was going and how dirty his wife’s mind operated. His minx always kept him on his toes, and he was grateful every day that Brigitte was his forever partner.

Rather than use her words to tell him, Brigitte chose to show him instead. Spreading his robe open, exposing his body to the cold air, she settled comfortably between Emmanuel’s legs. While giving his erection a tongue-twirling lick, she looked up with devilish eyes. “I ordered a sausage for dinner, but I’d much rather have yours.”

Without allowing him a second to react to her bold statement, she took him deep in her mouth, running her tongue slowly along the shaft, just as he liked, before hitting the back of her throat. “Oh, God, Brigitte,” he growled, grabbing a chunk of her hair as she continued her performance, bending and flicking her wrist as she turned him into jelly. Between her pleasured moans, because she thoroughly enjoyed doing it, and intense eye contact, Emmanuel was ready to explode.

“Don’t you … dare…stop,” Emmanuel pleaded as their guard banged on the door.

“Sir! Madame! I have your dinner!” He repeated impatiently. “Are you in there?!”

Without missing a beat, and refusing to care if their food turned cold, Brigitte accomplished the job she had set out to finish. When he came down her throat, she happily swallowed every drop, only leaping off the bed when she was done.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? You’re naked!” Emmanuel hissed, finally able to form a coherent sentence.

“Well, I’m hungry and I want our food!” Brigitte responded, closing her robe. “As much as I loved my dessert just now, I also want dinner. I’ll be back in thirty seconds.”

After the food was secure in her hands and she gracefully thanked the guard, Brigitte spread the contents across the bed. “He asked where you were,” Brigitte mentioned casually before taking a generous bite of the restaurant’s mouthwatering spaghetti.

Swiping a small piece of bread off her plate, Emmanuel asked, "What did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth…”

“Brigitte!!!” he blushed, knowing his daring wife very well could have.

“I said the President was recovering from a well-deserved blowjob.”

“Chérie, you didn’t?!?!”

Without missing a beat, she continued to tease him. She took another sultry bite of her meal. “You know, this is the second-best sausage I’ve had all day. French really does beat Italian.”  

Chapter Text

"You just had to open your big mouth!!” Brigitte stormed into their private suite, arms waving dramatically at her husband. “I’m never sharing another secret with you again!”

It had been a while since Emmanuel had seen his wife this upset. He had no idea what he could have possibly done wrong, but he was going to find out.

“Chérie, what did I do or say that made you so fired up?” Emmanuel asked, desperate to diffuse the situation. Usually it was the bullshit lies online making her this mad, but this time he was definitely in the wrong - and he hated that.

She shook her head, her blonde hair bouncing from side to side. “Do NOT Chérie me right now!”

He tread lightly, knowing his wife only got this angry if something was seriously bothering her. “Please talk to me instead of yelling. How can I fix things if I don’t know why you’re screaming at me? Did you read something online?”

Emmanuel opened his arms so she could join him on the couch, but Brigitte shook her head and chose to stand. “You asked Rachida how her boyfriend was!!”

“And?” He asked, not understanding why this was an issue. “I was being polite to your friend. You wandered off, so I made small talk with her.”

“Rachida told me about her boyfriend in confidence! She hadn’t told anyone else that she was dating again! And then you open your mouth!! She won’t even talk to me right now. Frankly, I don’t blame her!” Brigitte shouted, wanting to make things right with her friend. “She thinks I am a horrible person and it’s all your fault!”

Emmanuel shook his head angrily, meeting her temper head-on and matching it. “How was I supposed to know it was a secret?! You didn’t tell me I couldn’t repeat it! I’m not a mind reader!”

She bent her fingers in a frustrated fist. “Do not turn this around! You’re in the wrong, so just own it.”

He didn’t want to spend their evening arguing; it was a rare occasion when the Presidential couple had several free hours together. On the other hand, Brigitte was feeling terrible about betraying her friend’s secret. Wanting to have a face-to-face discussion and apologize, she stepped away to grab her jacket.

”Chérie, where...where are you going?!” Emmanuel asked, his voice fragile, worried that she was leaving him.

When she didn’t answer and ignored him instead, he did the boldest thing he could think of—Emmanuel grabbed her and pulled her close.

“What?!” Brigitte asked, annoyed when he stopped her.

“I asked you a question, damn it. I deserve an answer!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything. I already learned that lesson!” Brigitte was taken by force when Emmanuel’s lip crashed against hers.

“What are you doing?!” She asked, breathless. She fought back when he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

Ignoring her wishes, Emmanuel tossed her on the bed and climbed on top, trapping Brigitte with his legs. He moaned internally when he caught a glimpse of her red panties under her short dress. “I won’t let you leave. Listen, I’m sorry for opening my mouth to Rachida. I wouldn't have said something if I knew it was a secret. I’ll talk to her and make things right, but if she can’t forgive you, she doesn’t deserve you, Chérie.”

Allowing her a moment to breathe, he climbed off of her.

“Where are you going?” She asked weakly, missing his strong presence towering over her.

“Letting you decide what you want to do regarding Rachida.”

“She’s the last thing on my mind right now…. Get back here and finish what you were about to start.”

“And what would that be?”

Opening her legs to entice him, she smirked, “Apologizing to your wife by … Well, you have a very vivid imagination. You’ll come up with something.” 

Chapter Text

October 16th 2007

Laurence, Tiphaine and Emmanuel sat patiently in the living room, waiting for Brigitte to finish in the kitchen. They had all offered to help with dinner, but she assured them she’d like to do it herself. She had planned a special meal with their three favourite dishes as separate main courses.

“So, Maman knows some details, but we just wanted you to be aware of our plans for her bachelorette party,” Laurence spoke up, glancing at Tiphaine.

Emmanuel took a sip of water and smiled happily. “You’re going to that new Italian-style restaurant, right?”

“Not exactly….” Tiphaine added, “But I’ll make sure we buy her dinner at the buffet.”

Laurence shook her head, “The buffet is terrible! No one goes there for food anyway! They go for the naked men!”

Emmanuel spat his drink across the coffee table. “Naked men!?” He wiped the water with his sleeve as his back stiffened. Had he heard them correctly?

His fiancée, his Brigitte, was going to a strip club for her bachelorette party. And the girls were taking her!?

“Manu, a bunch of us pooled our money to buy Maman a ten-minute private lap dance,” Laurence mentioned casually, excited for Friday night.

The room started closing in on him as he began to feel claustrophobic. In his wildest dreams, Emmanuel never suspected that Brigitte would be interested in strip clubs - let alone willingly receive a lap dance from a stranger. The betrayal was palpable. Why hadn’t she told him?

“Does your Maman know about this?” Emmanuel asked, clutching his chest. “And…And she’s okay with it?”

Tiphaine smirked wickedly. “It was Maman’s idea. She wanted one final wild night before getting tied down to marriage.”

“Tied… tied down?!” He gasped for air. Did Brigitte really think their marriage could be compared to living in a cage? The daughters, her most trusted confidants, were people she always confided in. Maybe she had opened up to them that she wasn’t ready for marriage and was doing it just to make Emmanuel happy.

Laurence looked over at her younger sister with deep concern. “Hold on, sis! Look at him!”

“Manu! Are you okay? You’re as white as a ghost!” Tiphaine shrieked as she sat beside him on the couch and placed her hand against his forehead. “You’re ice cold!”

“We can’t do this anymore,” Laurence admitted, feeling guilty. The fun was over.

“Dinner is ready!” Brigitte announced, joining her family in the living room. When she saw the state of her fiancé, she panicked, rushing to his side.

“Chéri! What’s going on?! Girls! What happened? Why didn’t someone grab me from the kitchen?” Brigitte wrapped Emmanuel in her arms.

“Strip … club…” he mumbled, accidentally making it sound like a confession.

“You.. You went to a strip club?” Brigitte asked, not wishing to have a conversation like this in front of the children. Until now, she believed Emmanuel wasn’t interested in watching naked women dance around - with the exception of herself.

“Maman, we did a bad thing,” Laurence whispered, admittedly, staring at the floor with shame.

“What the hell did you do?” Brigitte’s voice rose angrily, and Emmanuel’s eyes widened. The soon-to-be bride & groom stared at the not-so-innocent blondes across from them.

“We were just joking around, but we told Manu that Laur and I were taking you to a strip club… and… and buying you a lap dance for your bachelorette party,” Tiphaine finished, hating that their joke had gotten out of hand.

“It… was a joke?” Emmanuel spoke softly, feeling more relief than anger at this moment. His Brigitte loved him. She didn't want to watch naked men the night before their wedding.

“We’re so sorry, Manu. We thought it would have been a funny thing to say. Maman always says you’re cute when you’re jealous,” Laurence tried to apologize. “Obviously, we took it too far. Tippy and I didn’t suspect you’d get sick over it.”

“Get out!!!” Brigitte roared, pointing to the front door. “Both of you girls, right now!”

There was no arguing with their mother when she was like this. Embarrassed and ashamed, they ran shamefully out of the house with rumbling stomachs.

“Chéri, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I hope you know I’d never go to a strip club,” Brigitte stood up, the anger making her see black spots. “I have such a desire to uninvite them to our wedding! How dare they say that shit to you!?”

Emmanuel kissed her lips, feeling better that it was all a joke, yet still hurt that his future daughters would pull a stunt like this. Everyone knew he was jealous and possessive when it came to Brigitte, so why play with his insecurities? It was cruel.

“Please don’t do or say something you’ll regret, Chérie. I want the girls at our wedding,” Emmanuel said, holding her against his chest. “In the future, you’ll regret it if they weren’t there.”

When she calmed down just a little bit, Brigitte smiled. “Let’s go to the kitchen and eat. There’s enough food for us to feast all week.”

They sat quietly through dinner, ignoring the telephone every time it rang.

“When are you going to speak to them?” Emmanuel asked, filling the sink with warm water. “I know all those unanswered calls were them trying to apologize.”

“I realized something while we were eating. We can only trust each other,” Brigitte sighed, still shocked over the incident. “I never thought the girls would be the ones to hurt us.”

“Thank you for taking my side,” Emmanuel proclaimed. I probably would have had a heart attack if you had carried on with the joke.”

“Jokes are meant to be funny. That wasn’t,” Brigitte concluded, feeling hurt and betrayed by her own flesh and blood.

Their wedding was just a few days away, but Brigitte felt like eloping. She’d sleep on such a big decision and see how she felt in the morning.

One thing was sure: Brigitte knew her man wouldn’t object to being married sooner…  

Chapter Text

He was done setting up his place for their first sleepover. As he mentally went through the to-do list in his head, checking everything off, he couldn’t help but smile at his little accomplishment.

Emmanuel had gone overboard with the spending, diving deep into his savings account, but his girlfriend’s first night at his apartment was a big deal.

After buying fresh towels, a vase of red roses, crisp white linen and new boxers, he was ready for her arrival. Giving his apartment a quick spray with his cologne, Emmanuel inhaled the aroma. He usually picked her up from the train station, but a schedule mixup had her meeting him at his place instead.

“Emmanuel, I’m here,” Brigitte announced, stepping inside and setting her overnight bag on the floor. “Wow, your place smells good!”

Running into her arms, and almost knocking her off her feet, he kissed her lips with uncontrollable passion. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Brigitte returned the greeting by deepening the kiss.

The five days they spent apart were difficult, but they always made up for it on weekends.

When she pitched the idea for a sleepover, knowing they were finally at that stage in their relationship, Emmanuel literally jumped at the opportunity.

Since then, he’d been preparing for tonight.

“Come to the bedroom!” Emmanuel proclaimed, lifting her bag off the floor and carrying it to the room like a gentleman. He was floating on air as he navigated them through his small living space.

She recognized the new bed sheets right away. Fluffier pillows were spread across the bed while modern-looking black rectangular lamps were evenly placed on the night tables.

“Wow, you went all out for me,” Brigitte giggled, amazed at how much he had done in preparation for their first sleepover. She had been in his bed countless times, but tonight was the first she would stay the night.

“There’s more,” he hinted, pointing to his dresser. When she wasn’t sure what he meant, Emmanuel opened the bottom two drawers, showing her the empty space. “These are for you! And I cleared out half of my closet for some of your clothes. You won’t have to lug that suitcase back and forth anymore.”

Sealing her appreciation with another kiss, Emmanuel pulled her away from his bedroom. “That’s not all!”

“What?” She laughed, “You’ve already done so much for me!”

To her surprise, half of his medicine cabinet was cleared for her feminine items. Sitting on the counter was a bag filled with her favourite beauty products.

“I memorized everything you had in your bathroom and bought the same items!”

“Emmanuel, this must have cost you a fortune!” Brigitte was astounded at the expense this must have been, money he didn’t have. “I don’t need all of this.” Her fingers cautiously traced the labels of the expensive bottles as her heart ached.

“Oh, did I make a mistake? Did I buy the wrong shampoo or lotion?”

“No, baby, you didn’t… but I just need you. Please never go through this hardship for me again,” Brigitte whispered, failing to suppress her overwhelming guilt.

“Hardship?” He was confused. “Are you talking about money?”

Pushing past him, she made a run for the door. Luckily, he was faster and grabbed her. Emmanuel had her securely wrapped in his strong arms so she couldn’t take off again.

“I can buy my own products, Emmanuel! I don’t need new bedsheets or fancy lamps. Do not spend what little cash you have on me.”

“Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved! I plan to spoil you for the rest of our lives, so you better get used to it. Are you so broken that you don’t remember what it feels like to be adored?”

“Broken?” She whispered. “You think I’m broken?” 

Chapter Text

He smiled as he blinked awake. Light was gently streaming through the windows illuminating the mess of blonde hair pillowed on his shoulder as he could feel every part of the still naked body of wife’s against his. He felt at peace, like finally after weeks, and weeks of running lately he could set aside his burdens and breathe.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head as his ears became attuned to the noise around him, the music of the bird song provoking the angry barking of one of the many assembled doggies, the answering laughter of their daughter as she directed the misbehaving animal to keep it down.

It was still early - too early after their very late night, the party continuing when they made it to their second little residence, the one they have managed to make a family home, as he snuck up upstairs with a giggling Brigitte, shushing her with kisses as he planned to follow through on his promises he made all evening, later producing a quiet, muffled music of their own.

He didn’t need to be up early, not today. Today, the start of his first weekend off in what felt like ages, today was about their family. About his brilliant granddaughter, home from her first year of university, eager to share with her Daddy all the crazy things she’d managed to do, for her younger sister as she wanted a piggy back ride around the garden, for her cousins as they fought over Nemo and their Mamie’s attention. Today was for their kids, for celebrating in their eldest daughter’s latest triumph, for welcoming their youngest daughter home. Today was for watching his wife in her element, beaming at the head of their family, for falling in love all over again as he watches her with them all with such grace and love he is struck dumb again by all her brilliance.

"It’s too early for you to be thinking this loudly," she slurred sleepily from his side.

"Good thoughts, I promise," he swore as he leaned in for his morning kiss, his day never starting until her love was there to usher it in for him.

"I promised the little ones crêpes this morning, so round two is going to have to wait," Brigitte smirked teasingly at him, causing Emmanuel to laugh loudly.

"Shh! Don’t wake everyone!" She messily tried to hush him, her hand groping around for a minute to muzzle him.

"Laurence is already up," he answered pressing a kiss to her palm before she removed it. "I heard her walking one of the dogs earlier."

"My whole family are insomniacs!" Brigitte playfully moaned.

"She gets that from me," he shrugged playfully.

"You know that’s not something exactly to be proud of right?"

"She’s a good kid!"

"She’s a very good kid. We did good with her."

"Are you implying we didn’t with the others?"

"Jury’s still out about Sebastian."

"Chérie!!"

"I was kidding! I was kidding. You know I don’t have favorites."

"Unlike my mother," he grumbled.

"What have we said about this?"

"No talking about my parents when we’re naked in our bed."

"Good boy," she smiled, pressing up off his chest to give him another kiss.

"I know you said round two has to wait, but we do have to shower still -" he started, a glint in his eye.

"We do, don’t we," she continued, grinning widely.

"And it’s good for the planet if we share. Water conservation. After that Nice conference a few weeks ago, we have to set a good example."

"Oh of course, that’s a very good point."

"So maybe, you’d like to join me?"

"For conservation?"

"Obviously."

"And it has nothing to do with the fact you just want to feel me up while I’m still naked?"

"I’m just a man, a simple man, Brigitte! I’m weak!"

"Yes, but you’re my man."

"Always and forever. Yours."

"Well, I guess in that case, we better make it quick. Come on!"

Far later than she had planned, she eventually found her way down to the kitchen, keeping the now very impatient little ones calm a little longer while he snuck into the sitting room, trying to play it cool.

"Well you look happy," he heard a familiar voice tease over his shoulder, startling him.

"Oh! Laurence! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Is your head still that out of it after this morning?"

"WHAT?! I -" he blushed profusely embarrassed, stumbling over his words.

"Manu, relax!" Laurence laughed. "I’m just teasing you. I mean, I saw you and Maman making out when you thought no one was noticing, so you’re not exactly subtle -"

"Oh GOD," he groaned.

"I’m just happy you’re happy. You are happy, right?"

"I’m the happiest. I promise. Why? Has Brigitte said something?"

"She doesn’t need to, I can see how she’s looking at you. If I didn’t love you two so much, it’d be a little sickening," she rolled her eyes lovingly.

"That’s all we want for you too, Sweetheart. You deserve all the happiness," he smiled at her sincerely.

"Don’t worry, I’m happy. We’re very happy," she promised.

"You sure? I’m heading to the NATO summit this week. I can have Mark call, put the fear of God in him!"

"Nah. He’s good. Thank you, though."

"Good. Now, let’s go join the rest of the family before your Maman yells at both of us."

"You mean you haven’t made her scream enough this morning?"

"LAURENCE!" He exclaimed mortified.

"Come on, let’s go," she shoved him into the next room laughing. “You know we all love you.”

Chapter Text

“You were broken, at one point. Well, not you, but your heart was broken. I want to fix that. I want you to know what it feels like to be loved again. Forget all the stuff I bought, that’s just money that comes and goes. I want to show you every day how much you mean to me.”

In all her years of marriage, her ex had never once surprised her with a bottle of her favourite products. Nor gone through the hard work Emmanuel had just put in for her. Brigitte was no longer being taken for granted, and she struggled to adjust to this new reality.

When the initial shock wore off, and they had agreed on a financial compromise, Brigitte and Emmanuel finished the evening asleep in each other’s arms - and in his bed.

The bright sunshine shone through the bedroom window as Brigitte stirred awake. After pulling the sheets up to her chest, the cool air being too chilly on her naked body, she suddenly realized Emmanuel was gone.

Throwing on one of his very worn but comfy t-shirts, she padded through the apartment looking for him.

“No! Go back to bed! I’m almost done with your tray!” Emmanuel called out from the kitchen when he heard her rummaging around.

She climbed back into bed and waited impatiently for his next surprise.

“Good morning, Chérie!” He sang, placing a tray of items in front of her.

“I made your favourite tea, and I bought some cheese and toast that I knew you’d love. So, sit back and enjoy.” Emmanuel smiled before standing up and turning toward the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?!”

“I want you to enjoy your breakfast in peace. You deserve quiet time.” Emmanuel knew how hard she worked, how little time she had for herself while caring for three children, and how she deserved to be pampered.

“Get back here!” She chirped. “I never want space from you.”

She handed him a piece of cheese and snuggled close. Emmanuel grew sad, holding her in his arms while unsuccessfully attempting to cover his face with her body.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Brigitte asked, pulling away.

“You’re going home tomorrow, and it feels like you just got here,” Emmanuel spoke softly, trying to keep a brave face.

He wished for the day when she would live with him permanently. The day she’d be his wife, and everything that belonged to her would be in their shared space.

She tried to make light of the situation. “If we lived together, you’d be sick of me in a month,” she joked.

“Never!” He barked back. “I’d love every moment we were together.”

“So, then let’s enjoy what we have for now. We don’t know what the future will bring.”

They sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company and sharing cheese. It was mornings like this that they cherished, making separation for the week extremely tough.

“One day, Brigitte….” He whispered, trying not to wake her, when she accidentally fell asleep in his arms. “One day, I promise to give you the world.” 

Chapter Text

It’s too quiet when he opens the front door of their private apartment.

Normally, she has some noise in the background: one of the kids or a friend on speaker phone as she straightened up, the radio playing as she cooked dinner at the stove, the TV playing as she hurriedly watched a show he wasn’t interested in. Sometimes, she was the noise, singing along, dancing around their living room, arguing with Nemo to put the shoe down.

But tonight, tonight the house was silent in a way he couldn’t remember ever hearing.

Out of respect for the solemnness he can feel hanging in the air, he toes off his shoes quietly by the door, the pads of his feet quieted by his socks as he searches for her, finding her leaning out the small balcony over looking the garden.

He can see in the pained lines of her body she was miles away, tortured by the loss he know was consuming her whole.

"Hey," he says quietly, announcing himself so she wasn’t surprised when his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his chest, his chin resting on her shoulder, as his cheek brushed against hers. He gives her a moment, seconds drawing out endlessly while he waits to see if she will reply, feeling the half hearted smile as her muscles rippled under her skin.

"What’s going on in there?" He asked gently, knowing she would feel better if she unburdened her soul. He was ready, willing, able to carry the weight.

"You don’t want to know," she said simply, quietly.

"Of course I do. I want to know everything, you know that. There’s no thought I have that I don’t share with you," he tried to joke.

"I’m sorry."

"What could you ever be sorry for? Chérie, I know this is hard for you. I’m not mad at all, you have every right to feel whatever you feel."

"No," she stopped him quickly before taking a shaking breath. "I’m so sorry I wasn’t born later. I’m so sorry I’m going to leave you first. I’m sorry I’m going to leave you behind, that I’m going to condemn you to this pain, that I’m going to hurt you like this -"

"Hey, hey, hey," he soothed as he felt her work herself up. "None of that. None of that. Stop. Stop this right now."

"I know you don’t like to think about it, to talk about it, but right now, it’s all I can think about. I’m so selfish -"

"You are many things, but you are not selfish. Brigitte, you listen to me. I chose you. I choose you. Every moment of every single day. I knew what I signed up for. I knew who I feel in love with. I knew what a life with you would mean, and what it wouldn’t. But the truth has been the same since that first day: one single second loving you and being loved by you is worth a lifetime of pain without you.

"I will never, I have never, regretted for one second anything about us. And I will never wish for you to be anything other than you. You are my soulmate, my other half, the best part of me." He kissed her cheek, gently but firmly, punctuating his words in a way that could leave no room for her to misinterpret his feelings.

They stood there in silence for what felt like hours, his mind working over what more he could say to lift this shadow clouding her heart.

"I’ll come visit, you know. Tell you about my day, although, I’m sure you’ll see everything. Bring fresh flowers, make sure they’re taking care of you."

"I want you to live your life, don’t be stuck mourning a ghost."

"Now if you want to haunt me, I’m cool with that. But you are my life, Brigitte. I’ll take care of our kids, our family. But I’m going to be yours until the minute I join you. And I don’t say this to make your guilt worse, I say this because I know it’s what you would do if it were me. I know you would threaten the gravestone maker within an inch of his life if the text wasn’t perfect, that you’d mow my plot yourself if that’s what it took. I am you, and you are me."

"Loving you is the best thing I think I’ve ever done," she whispered so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

"No," he corrected, "you’ve built this beautiful family, our beautiful family. Loving you is the greatest gift, the greatest honor, and greatest pleasure of my life. It’s the greatest thing I have ever done. And one day, when they write my tombstone, I want it to say here lies Emmanuel, beloved husband. Because this President is nothing without his Premiere Dame."

"See that’s my point -"

"Chérie, just come inside. Let me take care of you tonight. Let me hold you until this passes, until your heart eases. Let me love you."

"Okay," she relented, letting him shuffle her back towards their couch, pulling her into his lap, covering her in gentle kisses, whispering soft I love yous until she felt the heavy pull of sleep on her eyes, the exhaustion overwhelming, the energy to fight fading, as she slipped into the warm embrace of love and sleep.

When he was sure she was asleep gently in his arms, he whispered aloud, as if the universe could hear, gratitude and rebuke in equal measure, "how beautiful and cruel is this world that gave me you, for you are the only thing I can’t bare to lose, Brigitte."