| Subject: À la Vie! – Chapter 20 |
Author:
Diane
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: Friday, October 29, 09:33:53pm
In reply to:
Diane
's message, "À la Vie!" on Tuesday, October 19, 01:16:54am
“Anything you can dig up on her,” Michael said stonily. “Anything at all that would discredit her in the eyes of the law.” He looked over the top of O’Brien’s disheveled brown hair and into the clouds behind him. “I won’t let her take my son away from me. I won’t have it.”
“You know I’ll do what I can, Mr. Samuelle, but the laws in France are very specific. They always rule in favor of the mother, especially when, uh” he cleared his throat and Michael looked him straight in the eye. “When the petitioner is not the natural father.”
“But what if I am,” Michael persisted. “Elena is such a whore, Adam’s father could be anyone. Why not me?”
“You know that DNA test will prove that you are not a blood relative to Adam.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair again. “I really wish I had better news.”
“But you will keep trying, yes?”
“Absolutely,” promised O’Brien vehemently. The two men stood to shake hands and Michael sat back down at the table, too tired to move. After everything else she had done to him. The public scandal she had caused. Now he may never see his son again. His eyes began to fill with tears.
He almost missed her. He could see the blurred image of a tall blonde woman scanning the tables of the outdoor café behind him. Suddenly, she found the person she sought. “Carla,“ she called, raising her arm to wave. Michael stood, blocking her path, and grabbed her by both shoulders.
“Nikita?”
Nikita studied the face before her. She should have felt panicked at his assault, but she didn’t. She took in his mousse-tamed chestnut curls that covered his collar in back, and a pair of grey-green eyes she had only seen once before in her whole life.
“Michael?”
“It’s really you,” he breathed.
“It’s really you,” she echoed, struggling to take in what had just happened.
Michael pulled her forward, intending to kiss her cheek, but instead the kiss became a fierce embrace, one that Nikita freely returned. They stood unmoving, just holding each other, feeling each other, breathing each others’ scent. Michael felt an overwhelming sense of peace, as if all the tension of the last two decades had just drained away. Nikita knew that she had finally, after searching for so long, come home.
Nikita buried her tearstained face in Michael’s shoulder. “I didn’t think—I never—“ she began.
“I know. Me, too.” Michael held her a moment longer, then pulled her back to take a good look at her face. She was still there. The little girl from Sydney. They could start over again.
Nikita pulled him close again and buried her face in his neck.
“Are you two gonna get a room or what?” asked Carla, who had finally walked up behind them when she saw that Nikita was no where near ready to order lunch.
Michael and Nikita both sniffled at the same time, and Nikita giggled, wiping her eyes. “Carla, I want you to meet my oldest and very best friend in the whole world, Michael Samuelle. Michael—Carla Sanchez. We work together at l'Éclat.
“The lipstick ads,” Michael concurred. “You’re even lovelier in person.” He gallantly took her hand and raised it to his lips. Carla turned to Nikita, who shrugged, smiling.
“Are you any relation to the art gallery Samuelles?” Carla asked innocently.
“He owns them,” answered Nikita proudly.
“Oh my God,” exclaimed Carla. “You must be a gazillionaire!”
“Not yet,” Michael replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Carla,” admonished Nikita, her cheeks turning pink. Carla backed away, her hands in the air.
“Obviously you two have a lot to catch up on, so I’m going to order my lunch to go, and you guys have a great time, okay?” She winked broadly at Nikita before turning around and walking up to the café’s takeout counter.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 
