The Wedding Dress

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The Wedding Dress

When we arrived in Paris, I was chauffeured by a kind old man who didn't speak a lick of English. But he helped me with my luggage even when I insisted, in a horrible attempt of the French language, that I was fine on my own. Sandrine had given strict orders when she met us at the airfield and he had to oblige.

Three cars waited for us. One was just for her and Jake. Levi had mockingly declined to join the already packed second car that seated Trent, Landon, Isobel and her army of luggage. I was terrified that he would insist riding with me in the third car, but he told us that he had to meet with someone and would see us later for lunch. He stood back as we drove away. I couldn't help but wonder who he was meeting. Maybe Sophie did need help filling her "drink cart".

Checking in at the hotel was a better experience than I thought it would have been. One of the bellhops was an American so he translated for me and for the desk clerk. He also helped me get my stuff in the room. His name was Charlie but everyone --and insisted that I too-- called him Chaz.

The first thing I noticed in the room was the view of Eiffel Tower as it faced the bed. It felt too surreal.

Although my heart belonged to San Francisco, my mind often wandered to Paris.

My single mother had helped pay for my education. Even though she would have been proud to work extra hours to support me if I had decided to move to this city to study Fine Arts, I had declined profusely. When I started to make more money with event planning, I never had time to travel unless it was for clients and most of them remained in the US. As my career flourished, My priorities shifted and Paris became a pipe dream.

I finally made it!

I was taking in the view beyond the open windows, under the blue sky when my ringtone startled me. My mother was calling to see how my flight went.

I spoke briefly to her, saying that I needed to get ready for the dress fitting and lunch. I did exactly that, but took a longer shower to prep for the fitting. No one would want to take measurements of a stinky bridesmaid.

Promptly, I made it to the design house where Sandrine and Isobel were already waiting. Isobel, sat bored and sulking, fiddling with her phone, and Sandrine looked put out by her future sister-in-law's behavior. They both jumped out of their seats, almost pushing each other just to give me a hug and shower me with kisses.

Sandrine introduced me to Crâyon, the fashion designer in skin tight black trousers and a colorful paisley shirt, and cheeks so hollow I wanted to pick him up and carry him to the nearest hospital. I tried not to butcher his name, but did anyway. He sneered at me the entire time. His assistant handed me champagne, then produced the the dresses for me and Isobel.

A sea-foam green beaded chiffon overlaying sparkly silver silk, with cute circular patterns along the hem for Isobel (which she merrily referred to as the puke green dress, even though it looked fabulous, nothing I had ever seen before,and the fit on her was perfect) and a blush pink layered trumpet dress for me. I had minor adjustments on my dress, Sandrine confessed that she had forgotten to ask for my bra size.

Both Isobel and I changed back into our regular clothes, while we waited for Sandrine to put on the dress that Crâyon had created for her, we drank champagne and ate caviar. I was loving every minute of it until Sandrine stepped out of the dressing room.

For a bit I wasn't sure why I felt like I was going to pass out, perhaps I should have eaten something more substantial before the fitting. It could also have been the fact that this wedding was becoming more a reality, and I would soon lose Jake forever.

Sandrine had a killer body. She posed and sashayed in front of us. The long train glided on the marble floor begin her.

"So? What do you think?" She asked Isobel and me.

Then, like a lightning bolt hitting me, I was all too aware of why I felt faint. It wasn't the lack of food. It wasn't even the woman in the dress.

The dress. It was the dress.

It was a sweetheart neckline, heavily beaded bodice, vintage lace trumpet dress with a long train. It screamed great taste, boasted of great talent, and was definitely expensive. It was perfect.

It was also very very close to my dream wedding dress. A fat tear rolled down my cheek. My hand covered my mouth to suppress the angst and sadness and disbelief.

Sandrine took it as tears of joy for her so she hugged me. Crâyon spoke to her in French, cooing. Sandrine turned around so that he could place the vintage veil over her perfectly shaped head. Sandrine was beyond perfect. She looked perfect in my dress. And she would look perfect in my dress when she marries my perfect ex-boyfriend.

I excused myself for a moment, stepping out of the place, breathing in the Parisian air. But the city had lost its magic.

The air smelled stale and pungent. The street looked desolate and dirty. The buildings showed off its crumbling, old façade. I had the urge to call Chase and tell her that I was going back home immediately and canceling the contract with Jake and Sandrine. I didn't care what the repercutions would be. I just needed out. I was sure she'd be supportive and understanding.

Our company would probably get sued. It seemed like something Sandrine or maybe her family would do. We'd probably lose a lot of other clients Jake and his family had connections with. We might have to fire some people. I might have to move back with my mother in Fresno. Grief struck like an axe through my heart at the possible loss.

With no other choice, and a heavy heart, I plastered on my best fake smile and headed back in to Crâyon's design house.

Lunch had no effect on me. The conversations were easy, the company was fun but my mind was elsewhere. Levi arrived late but managed to push Landon aside so he could sit with me.

He tried offering me wine but I kept refusing. I ate nearly half of whatever was served. When the coffees came, I excused myself, telling them that I wanted to nap before I visited some tourist spots. Levi offered to accompany me. I had to tell him no, that I needed some alone time but promised to contact him whenever I was ready for my first tour.

I didn't nap. I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, sat up on my bed and stared out the window, at he tower still standing proudly in front.

I remembered the time Jake had promised to take me to this city. It was two days before he left for Paris. A few days before he met Sandrine. I was busy preparing for a huge event and couldn't go with him.

What if I had been able to go? Would we still be together? Would he have met Sandrine? Would I be in a beautiful hotel room alone, crying about my lost love and lost dream wedding gown?

I cried and cried for an hour until my head started to hurt. I showered again, trying to cleanse myself of the afternoon's memories and unanswered questions. There wasn't much I could do, being in a different city and not having my usual comforts (and Chase) around me. Still, there was time to kill and I had a list of things I wanted to see and do. Chase would have said, "When life gives you lemons, you punch life in the face and take the strawberries. Then, you can make a margarita, which is way better than lemonade."

I looked in the mirror on the bathroom wall and told myself, "I will make margaritas."

Levi arrived on time at the hotel. I met him at the lobby with my trusty camera, a small notepad for taking down inspirations and notes, a scarf just in case it got cooler, a smile and a promise to myself that I would have a better time. I could tell that he noticed the puffiness under my eyes but he didn't say a thing about it, and I appreciated him more for it. He kissed my cheeks softly as he took my hand over his arm.

Our first stop was the Eiffel tower. He greeted everyone on the way there and they all greeted him back. Some women even tried to catch his attention longer, but he just trudged on, talking about the history of the Eiffel tower, just in case I didn't know.

Levi took pictures of me standing on the foreground of the famous landmark, and while we climbed it. We couldn't go nearly as far as he hoped due to my fear of heights. He asked someone to take a photo of us. The guy gave us a thumbs up the first two takes then asked us to kiss on the third. Why not? It would be one to tell my future kids, if I ever have them.

A soft breeze blew strands of my hair over my face. With his fingers, Levi plucked them off and tucked them back behind my ears. His blue eyes searched my face as he cupped it in his hands. His eyes lowered to my lips. With tenderness, he captured my lip between his. I closed my eyes, while my entire body trembled and warmed.

I opened my eyes to a flash. I could feel a smile hovering over my lips. When Levi turned away to thank the man, I had to grab the side rails. the cold metal was a contrast to my burned skin. My lips continued to tingle. His taste remained in my mouth. A mixture of mint, cinnamon and man.

We had a few more stops after--the Notre Dame Cathedral, a few smaller museums and art galleries, a cozy café for a quick snack. Then off to L'Arc du Triomphe and Champs Élysées. Then finally, a boat tour on the Seine.

Quietly we sat on the boat, with the water softly rocking us, enjoying the silent elation surging through my veins.

I leaned on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around me, and also carefully wrapping my scarf around my neck. He kissed the top of my head when he was done playing with my scarf. Anyone around us could easily have mistaken us for a loving couple. If only things weren't so complicated. But I tried not to let those complications ruin the moment.

I was in the City of Love with a surprisingly tender man. Tomorrow could bring more twists and turns in our lives, but for that moment, with my head resting on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around me, I felt cared for. And if only for this moment, that was more than enough.

As we headed to meet the rest of the gang for dinner, I thanked him for being a great tour guide with a chaste kiss on the lips. And let him hold my hand until before we entered the restaurant. Everyone was already waiting.

Sandrine greeted us with kisses and the rest followed, except for Jake. He reluctantly gave me a quick kiss on one cheek, nothing but a glare was offered to Levi.

I excused myself before sitting down to go to the washroom. When I returned, the atmosphere had changed. Levi was glaring at Jake, and Jake was back in his usual happy mood. I wished I never had to pee so that I would stop missing conversations.

Like the last time we all had dinner, the conversations flowed and so did the drinks. My mood changed every so often and fought to suppress the bursting, and conflicting emotions within.

I would remember the dress, the tears, and the kiss. My mind rallied upon observing Jake and Sandrine together in this city, and Jake and Levi's sour moods at each other, and the simple glimpses from Levi. I was a mesh of happy and sad and jealous and I didn't know what else. Paris had brought out the good, the bad and the ugly. What came next was anybody's guess.

I left a little after midnight, a little tipsy, confused and alone.

****

A/N: it took me a while to finish editing this chapter, and debated whether to leave it the way it is now or rewrite it again. It's not a "happy pink fluffy unicorn" tone. It's a bit more somber. What do you think of it?

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