| Subject: À la Vie! - Epilogue |
Author:
Diane
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Date Posted: Sunday, November 28, 10:24:25pm
In reply to:
Diane
's message, "À la Vie! - Chapter 41+" on Friday, November 05, 11:09:31pm
“Would you be insulted if I told you I was too tired to ravage you?” Michael asked Nikita wearily.
“Not at the moment,” Nikita said agreeably. He had kissed and loved every inch of her last night—she felt like she was still glowing.
Michael and Nikita had just spent what seemed like a week in the air, flying from Marseilles to the tiny Fijian island of Taveuni, where they were spending their honeymoon at the Maravu Resort.
“Oh, Michael. Listen to this.” Nikita picked up a brochure from the Welcome packet on the writing table of their Bure. “’Maravu is Fijian word meaning calm and tranquil—like on a sunny day when the sea is quiet and looks like blue glass.’ Isn’t that beautiful?”
“Uh-huh,” Michael responded as he pulled off his too-tight shoes and flopped back on the king-sized canopy bed.
“Wake up,” Nikita scolded. “You promised to call Adam when we arrived.”
Michael lifted his watch and stared at it blearily. “It’s only three o’clock in the morning in Marseilles. We’re seven hours ahead. He won’t be up for at least four more hours. Let’s take a nap. You have to be jet-lagged.”
“I guess I am a bit,” conceded Nikita. “But I’m a little hyper, too. I’m going to take a quick walk down to the beach. I’ll be back in about 15 minutes.”
“Uh-huh,” Michael agreed, already drowsing again.
* * *
When she returned, Michael was awake and much more alert. Nikita joined him on the bed. “Am I going to be ravaged now?” she asked innocently.
“If you wanna be.”
“Well, I wanna be.” Nikita turned her face toward Michael’s and kissed him until neither one of them could breath. “Th-There’s just one problem,” she said. Oh, God, how could any woman think with hands like that running all over her body. “Really, Michael,” Nikita said breathlessly, imprisoning his hands to keep them from roving even lower. “I mean it!”
He stopped and sat up, looking at her skeptically.
Nikita jumped out off the bed and headed to the bathroom. “I really gotta go!” she called over her shoulder. “And no laughing,” she admonished as her pace quickened.
Michael hadn’t thought of it before, but now that Nikita mentioned it—
“Hurry up in there,” Michael shouted.
* * *
While Nikita was freshening up for dinner, Michael called Adam. They talked for a bit, Michael chuckling a lot, then Adam requested to speak to his mom. Adam had been calling Nikita “Mom’” for over a year now and, while he was a little bit excited about her adopting him; it meant the world to Nikita. Adam then handed the phone to Julie, and Nikita handed hers to Michael.
Michael had brought his laptop, and asked Julie to have the builder email him the plans for the new house. He had sold the house he had shared with Elena, and sent the entire proceeds to the Sunny Day Nursery in Sydney, Australia. Adam and Julie were living in a suite at the Sofitel Palm Beach hotel in Marseilles, but Michael wanted to give Adam a real house with a big back garden where he could romp and play. He wanted to give him all of the things the Vaceks had denied him.
* * *
After dinner, Michael accompanied Nikita to the beach for a long walk. It was hard to believe that the ocean before them was the same one they had seen in Sydney, as well as in San Francisco. It really was a small world. Any larger, and Michael and Nikita might have missed each other.
Michael plopped down on the warm, white sand, and pulled Nikita into his lap. “Feeling a little déjà vu?” she asked, smiling, running her fingers through his chestnut curls.
“Absolutely,” he answered solemnly. “Do you know that I pitched a fit that day when Marcel brought me to the beach? I was seconds away from persuading him to take me back to the embassy.” Nikita took a moment to digest this, and added “If my mum had been sober, there’s no way she would have let me out of the house that day.” They sat holding each other, pondering the mysteries of the universe.
“I told you how I found you,” Nikita began. “The beach scenes with the little girl at the Samuelle’s opening in San Francisco. How did you find me?”
Michael smiled wryly, thinking back. “A mix-up with the airline. I got bumped back to coach, and all I had to read were some cheesy women’s magazines. Out of sheer boredom I opened one up, and there you were—staring right at me with those incredible eyes.”
“Didn’t you contact the agency?” she asked, puzzled.
“Of course,” Michael replied. He smiled. “They sent me an 8”X10” glossy with your signature.”
Nikita turned to him with incredulous eyes, then chuckled. “That figures. So close, and yet so far.”
“I initially hired Marco O’Brien to find your mother. I thought she might lead me to you. I was on my way to see her when Elena went into labor with Adam.”
“So you never gave up on me?”
“Never.”
“I never gave up on you, either.”
They shared a lingering kiss, then Michael helped Nikita up and they walked back to their Bure, hand in hand.
La Fin
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