Hi everyone! So wow, this has been the longest I've ever gone without updating. This time it was a lack of any motivation to write that kept me from getting down to business. I'm sure all my fellow writers have gone through a similar slump, and I just didn't want to force myself to hash out empty words. That said, I've got the new chapter ready! And hey, I'm still writing faster than George RR Martin, who gets paid to do this! Haha!
Thank you to everyone that has reviewed the story and followed/favourited A Perfect Match and/or your's truly! I think the story has been favourited over 150 times now, which really blows my mind. Thank you so much for the appreciation. And thank you to everyone that has helped me fix grammatical mistakes by pointing them out. I don't have anyone proofread my updates, so it helps when you guys point out the obvious.
Alright, I have things to do so I'll cut this short here and just send you off to read the update. As always, I look forward to your feedback! Over and out!
Gentle steam wafted up from the paper cup Rachel was cradling between the palms of her hands, bringing with it the smell of freshly ground Columbian coffee. The half-consumed drink had been practically forgotten the minute the chauffeur stepped out of the now stationary Peugeot, leaving the brunette alone. Yes, she could have gotten out of the car but Rachel was having one of those mornings where she just didn't want to smile for random strangers who approached her with nothing but the best intentions. So instead she told Philippe, the man who had been driving her around Paris for the last few days, to go ahead while she stayed put.
The American teenager stared out the window, watching people entering and exiting the large building that was bathed in the rays of the morning sun. There were people of all sizes, shapes and colours - some on their own, some in groups; some dressed smartly, some in shorts and flip flops and yet others in uniform. The brunette's wandering eyes caught a glimpse of a slim, tanned woman with wavy black hair, and for a moment she thought it was Santana. A second look cleared her of that incorrect notion, but the initial idea was enough to transport her back to a memory from the previous weekend.
Rachel had sent her bags down to the lobby before making her way to Quinn's door, which was slightly ajar when she got there. 'Quinn really needs to be more careful' the brunette thought, and had raised her hand to knock when she was stopped in her tracks by the sounds coming from inside the suite. 'Is that... moaning?'
With furrowed brows Rachel moved towards the door and, after a surreptitious glance around, leaned her ear closer to it. Sure enough, after a moment of silence the unmistakable sound of a woman's moan reached her ears. "Mmm," the voice cooed, thick with pleasure.
Rachel backed away a couple of inches to take stock of the situation, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Someone was in there with Quinn, evoking those sounds from the blonde. 'I should go,' she thought, fighting the urge to cry and willing her feet to move. That plan went out the window when a fresh round of moaning could be heard through the door, this time even louder than before.
"Lower, lower. Yeaahhhh, right there. Mmm, so good Q," Rachel heard loud and clear, without even needing to strain her ears this time.
Her eyes went wide with horror. 'Santana?'
The New Yorker's confusion was quickly replaced by rage as the Spaniard's ecstatic voice came through the crack in the door, "Harder. Come on, you aren't going to hurt me! Ooooh yeah."
Rachel got even angrier when Quinn's own voice joined in a moment later, "Shh, San! You're being very loud!"
Santana made what sounded like a huffing sound, "Who cares if anyone hears? Ooh, go under the shirt!"
Rachel was in shock. She couldn't believe that Santana was cheating on Brittany. And with Quinn, at that! She found no consolation in the fact that Quinn replied to Santana with "I'm not going under the shirt!"
'How long has this been going on for?' she wondered, fuming. 'Brit's going to be devastated when she finds out.'
"Yes, yes! That's the spot! Don't stop!" Santana uttered, and Rachel decided she had had enough. Who did those two think they were, having an affair right behind Brittany's back? And- no, this was not the time to think of how silly she felt because of her own feelings for Quinn, who clearly wasn't the person she had believed her to be! No, this was about walking in there and defending Brittany's honour, and her ill placed trust in Santana Lopez! Taking a deep breath, Rachel pushed the door open and stepped into the suite, only to once again abruptly stop at the sight that met her eyes.
Santana was sitting in a chair at the dining table, hunched forwards, and Quinn was standing behind her, scratching her back with a paddle brush. Both women looked shocked to see the teenager burst into the room, and Rachel had a feeling her own expression mirrored theirs perfectly.
Santana recovered first. "Berry," she said, acknowledging the brunette with a nod of her head. "Keep going Q!"
The blonde tore her gaze away from Rachel's to look down at Santana. The brunette saw her blink at the Latina before dropping the hairbrush down into her lap. "You can finish up yourself," she said, before looking back up to smile at Rachel. The brunette felt the urge to laugh at loud at the sudden thought of what that statement would have sounded like from the other side of the door.
By now Rachel realized what was happening, and to say she felt stupid was an understatement. Feeling the burn on her cheeks, she prayed to the heavens above that they weren't as red as they felt. The rest of her interaction with Quinn and Santana was a blur, and the brunette could barely recall stuttering out a goodbye and wishing the pair luck for their final that night before running out the door. She could sense Quinn's confusion at the awkwardness in the air and knew she hadn't helped by opting to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator when the blonde waved goodbye from the door.
Even now Rachel felt like an idiot as she thought about how she'd presumed the worst back then. She should have known better than to think that Santana would ever cheat on Brittany. Anyone could see the Spaniard was completely smitten by Rachel's best friend. And the teenager also knew that Quinn held herself to such high standards that it would be very out of character for her to ever be the 'other woman' in the middle of a committed relationship.
'And anyway,' Rachel thought glumly, 'she has Jake.' But no, Rachel wouldn't allow herself to dwell on that development right now.
After what felt like an agonizingly long wait but was really just a few minutes Rachel felt the dark cloud over her head lift when she caught sight of Philippe heading back her way with two men in pursuit. Rachel had just finished moving to the middle of the back row when the door to her left opened and her father's beaming face looked down at her. "Daddy!" she squealed like an excited young kid, wrapping her arms around Hiram the minute he'd sat down on the leather seat.
She was still savouring the sound of his chuckle reverberating in his chest below her ear when the door on the other side opened, and in a flash she turned to wrap her arms around her other father. "Papa! I missed you guys" she murmured, inhaling the comforting scent of the man who had raised her.
"We've missed you too, sweetheart," Leroy said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head while holding her tight against his chest.
The front door of the car opened, and Philippe took his place behind the wheel. "À l'hôtel?" he asked, turning around in his seat.
"Oui, s'il vous plait," Rachel responded.
"Or to anywhere we could get some of that," Hiram said half-jokingly, pointing to the coffee cup that Rachel had stashed in the coffee holder between the front driver's side and passenger's side of the car.
"The hotel has great coffee, I promise" Rachel smiled, linking an arm each around her parents' arms as the car exited the Charles De Gaulle airport and merged into the sea of cars full of people heading off to begin their workday. "How was your flight?"
"Comfortable!". "Exhausting!" she heard at the same time, causing another bubble of happiness to burst forth from her lips. She saw Leroy give Hiram a mock-glare and grinned when her Daddy amended his earlier statement with "Comfortably exhausting?"
Leroy shook his head but there was a fondness in his voice when he spoke, "You know your Daddy isn't a morning person, so I think the late night check in time beat him. But, the flight was great. And your Daddy stretched out on his bed and slept the whole way here, so I really don't know why he's so exhausted."
"But I haven't had any coffee," Hiram whined.
"Because he slept through breakfast," Leroy said, looking down at Rachel and pointedly ignoring his partner. The tennis player laughed at his words before sitting back and taking a deep breath. She was so happy to see her fathers.
The fairly long drive back to the Ritz was spent making small talk, and upon arrival the trio headed straight to the Grand Deluxe Room Rachel had booked for her parents. Rachel had considered asking them to stay with her in the Executive Suite the USTA had put her up in for the duration of her stay in Paris but thought her fathers might like some alone time in the City of Love. She'd then offered to book them a suite of their own, but Hiram and Leroy had graciously but firmly told their tennis star daughter that they really didn't need such extravagant quarters. In the end, a compromise had been reached when they acquiesced to her booking them into the most luxurious room the Ritz had to offer.
Rachel ordered breakfast while her parents freshened up and unpacked some of their things. "I feel like I've been transported to a room in a Jane Austen novel," Leroy commented, glancing around the room in awe before hanging up a suit bag in the closet.
"Mmm, it's surreal, isn't it?" Hiram replied while putting some shoes away. "I keep thinking about how this was the last place Princess Diana visited. Not this room, per se, but you know what I mean."
"Wow, yeah, I didn't even think about that," Leroy replied, pulling out a stack of neatly folded shirts from his suitcase and adding them to the clothes in the closet.
Rachel sat quietly at the little table in the corner of the room, content to watch her fathers be, well, her fathers. A year on tour had helped her see why so many players got homesick and she had promised herself that she would never take the little things for granted again.
A knock on the door broke her from her musings, heralding the arrival of the room-service waiter. The knock was followed by a deep voice, "Bonjour. Service en chambre."
Hiram went to open the door and moments later a lanky, blonde man pushed a jiggling and tinkling cart towards the table at which Rachel was seated. The man came to a stop beside the table and stood up straight before casting an expectant gaze across the three faces staring back at him. "Voulez-vouz que je vous sers?"
Leroy cleared his throat. "Umm, no thanks. Non? Merci?" he said, sounding a tad unsure.
Rachel resisted the urge to let out a laugh at the uncertainty in her Papa's voice and smiled at the waiter. "Nous sommes bien, merci," she said kindly. The man gave a slight bow and left the room, closing the door behind him on the way out.
"Been picking up some French, have we?" Leroy asked, taking a seat at the table and staring at the copious amount of food Rachel had ordered. "Also, how long do you think we've gone without eating?" he laughed.
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Well, it's hard not to pick up the basics of everyday conversation when you spend more than a few days in a place. And I just thought you could try a little bit of all my favourite things here at the hotel."
"We're here for the next four days, sweetheart. Which means we don't have to try everything at once," Leroy replied, putting three warm white plates on the table as he did.
Hiram put the last of his things in the closet, slid his empty suitcase under the bed and took his place at the table. "Don't listen to him Rach. I'm starving! Now pass me a croissant, my good man!" he said to his husband.
The trio had all added food to their plates and made themselves hot beverages before conversation resumed. "So, Rach, what is your schedule like today?" Leroy asked, before taking a bite out of a brioche.
"Well, I had an early hit with Jake this morning because I wanted to come pick you up at the airport." Rachel hoped she hadn't cringed visibly when she'd said Jake's name. Then again, her fathers were too engrossed in the French delicacies to be paying attention to her facial expressions. "The other girls were actually just getting to the courts when I left, so they would have probably only finished a while ago. I was going to have a bit of a rest before hitting the gym with Emma and Elliot at two, and then I have the rest of the day off, to spend with my two favourite men."
"That sounds wonderful" Hiram said through a mouthful of pain au chocolat. "And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow we train hard on the practice courts, from nine to twelve. But we don't have to hit the gym, unless it's a personal choice. I'll probably still try and put in some work with the weights if I'm feeling up to it. And then there's the draw ceremony and press at five." Rachel answered, visualizing her schedule in her head. "I have your passes to get into the ceremony. Please remind me to give them to you."
Leroy nodded. "Have the others players' families arrived too?"
"Marley's mom flies in today afternoon, and I think Quinn's sister might be on the same flight. Sloan's mom and brother got here yesterday, and Cici's dad was actually here with her before I even arrived from Istanbul," Rachel said, taking a sip of her green tea. "They're all really nice. Well, I haven't met Marley's mom yet but I'm sure she's wonderful too. You guys will like them."
Hiram took a big sip of his coffee then sat back with a contented sigh, smiling down at his plate that was already half-empty. "Happy now?" Leroy asked, his eyes fixed on his husband even as he used some cutlery to cut some fruit on his plate.
"Very," Hiram responded, a tired but satisfied grin on his face. Rachel's fathers seemed to share a wordless exchange before Hiram turned to their daughter. "So," he began, clearly trying to fake nonchalance, "anything interesting happening in your life, besides tennis? Have you, I don't know... met anyone interesting?"
Rachel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew exactly where her Daddy was going with this. "Could you perhaps be asking this in relation to the conversation we had when I was in Moscow?"
The brunette couldn't help thinking that the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree when Hiram gave up all pretenses and looked her dead in the eye. "I don't know. Could I?"
The tennis player narrowed her eyes, ready to rise to the challenge she could see in her father's eyes when her view of her Daddy was obstructed by a pristine white napkin. "Allow me to play peacemaker," Leroy said, before lowering the makeshift white flag so Hiram and Rachel could see each other again. "Your Daddy doesn't mean to be as passive aggressive as he's coming off right now, honey." This statement was emphasized with a silent glare directed at Hiram.
"But, yes, we have been wondering since you called us in a panic. More out of concern for you than anything else. And even you must be able to understand the worries of a father, two fathers in this case, who don't get to see their beloved child for months at a time, and to boot, have to watch the world publicly pass judgment on their child's every move. That said, we aren't going to push you if you don't want to talk about it. Are we, Hiram?" Leroy finished.
Hiram muttered something under his breath, which earned him another pointed look. "I'm sorry, but I'm not even sure you're speaking English right now," Leroy said.
"I said, no, we aren't going to push you, Rachel," Hiram mumbled, looking almost like an insolent child who was being told that no, he couldn't have any more candy.
Leroy nodded at his husband and then stole the half-eaten pain au chocolat from his plate, winking at Rachel when Hiram let out an annoyed huff. This time Rachel did shake her head at their antics, even as the hint of a smile danced at the edges of her lips. "Honestly, there's nothing going on..." she began, earning Hiram's undivided attention right away. Leroy played it cooler, sitting back in his chair with his cup of tea in hand.
"Most of my time on tour is spent playing matches, practicing on court or working out in the gym. Then there's- well, you already know the drill; massages, sessions with tournament physiotherapists, the always-delightful ice baths. And then there's the press before and during tournaments, meet-and-greets with fans, and any sponsor obligations I have to complete. So yeah, free time to organize anything even resembling a social life is hard to find. I try to squeeze in some sightseeing when I can but even that is rare," Rachel shrugged.
Hiram looked thoughtful, a crease between his brows. "So you don't really see anyone else? Your Papa and I had sort of assumed that you were alluding to possibly having feelings for someone on tour."
Rachel decided to ignore the second part of his statement, hoping her fathers wouldn't pick up on it. "I see a lot of Shelby, obviously."
"And Brittany, too, from what you're always saying," Leroy pointed out.
"Yeah, and Brit. We try and hang out on the evenings that we both have off. Or catch breakfast together when we can," Rachel said, praying her parents would drop it now.
"And Brittany's always with Santana these days, isn't she?" Leroy asked rhetorically, more to Hiram than herself. "And Quinn's usually there too, so you do see at least those three on a regular basis, right?"
"Mmm hmm," Rachel said, sounding a bit squeaky to her own ears.
"Hmm," Leroy said, sipping on his tea. "So then it wasn't someone on tour you thought you liked?"
'Yeah, they aren't going to drop this,' Rachel thought. She took a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks as she let it go. "Yes, I have feelings for someone I've met on the women's tour. But it doesn't matter, because she's straight. So I'm sure my little crush will fade away soon."
There was a moment of silence around the little table, almost as if her fathers weren't really expecting the blunt admission. Hiram turned to Leroy and the pair seemed to have another wordless discussion, which ended with Leroy using his free hand to make a gesture as if to say 'the floor is yours'. Hiram turned twinkling eyes on Rachel. "Your Papa owes me a hundred bucks. He thought your feelings for your mystery woman were a passing phase."
Rachel blushed at her father's use of the words 'your mystery woman' to describe Quinn, but her coloured cheeks were ignored when Leroy defended himself. "I did not call it a passing phase!" he exclaimed, looking affronted. "I said there was a possibility you had got caught up in defending Brittany and Santana, and could have just been a little overwhelmed when you spoke to us on the phone!"
"Tomato, tah-mah-toe," Hiram said, waving away his protestations.
Shaking his head, Leroy turned fully towards Rachel, "And the only reason why I owe him a hundred dollars is because he made a wager and then proceeded to pick the option he wanted. So I was basically told that I was left with the 'she doesn't really have feelings for a woman' option."
Hiram blinked a few times. "Come to think of it, I can't actually remember you agreeing to take that bet."
"Thank you!" Leroy said, the look on his face saying he felt suitably vindicated.
Hiram grinned at Rachel, and she got the feeling he'd been trying to rile up her Papa on purpose. Or maybe it had just been a ploy to make her feel more at ease with the conversation, because Rachel definitely felt less on edge after watching that little display. "So," Hiram began, his tone light, "You're crushing on a fellow player, then? Or is it a member of someone's entourage?"
"She's a player," Rachel said, staring down at her green drink that was half-cool by now.
"Ah, ok. And you say she's straight, so that eliminates..." Hiram trailed off.
"Half the women on tour," Leroy quickly threw in, and the two men shared a hearty chuckle. When they finished they saw that Rachel was glaring at them, but her quivering lips gave away her mirth.
Giving up in the battle against cracking a smile, an amused Rachel shook her head at the silly joke. Then she sobered up, "C'mon, you two can't try and guess who it is. That's not part of the rules."
"Ok, ok," Leroy said, putting his hands up in surrender. "We won't guess who it is. But can I ask, is this the only woman you've had feelings for?"
"Yes. And I really didn't realize it till my little epiphany in Moscow," the teenager said, her honesty evident in her voice.
"Well, we're very proud of you for talking to us about it. And can I say, you seem to be handling the revelation remarkably well. Speaking from personal experience, I know how hard it can be to even admit it to yourself," Leroy said, reaching out a hand to rest on Rachel's arm.
"Yup, denial isn't just a river in Egypt," Hiram threw in with a sage look on his face. He grinned when Rachel laughed at the pun.
"Don't encourage him, Rach," Leroy said, even as he smiled dotingly at his partner.
"I am a little bit freaked out," Rachel admitted, "but having you two for parents makes it a lot easier. And I know there's nothing wrong with having feelings towards someone of the same sex, again, mainly thanks to the two of you, and all your friends. And Brittany, Santana and all the lovely queer people I've met through tennis."
"So why are you freaked out then?" Leroy asked, adding some more hot water to his teacup.
"I don't know," Rachel admitted. "Maybe because it's so new?"
"Could you please put some water in my cup too, hon?" Hiram asked Leroy, before turning back to his daughter. "Maybe it's less about your queerness and more about the fact that you have unreciprocated feelings for someone," he said wisely. "Feelings can be tough territory, especially when they're one sided."
"Perhaps," Rachel conceded. A lot of her stress did seem to stem from trying to read into Quinn's interactions with her, and wondering if things meant more than they appeared to on the surface of things.
She was broken from her musings from the clinking sound Leroy was making as he stirred his tea. "How do you know she's straight anyway?"
"Well, for a start she's never indicated any interest in women," Rachel said.
"Neither have you. Well, up till now," Leroy countered.
"Touché," Hiram threw in.
"That's a fair point," Rachel agreed. "And, I'll admit, I did think she might like me back but then-" She stopped just short of saying the word 'today'. If she had then her fathers would know it was someone who was currently in Paris with them, which would drastically narrow down the possibilities. And then it would only be a matter of time before they figured out it was Quinn.
"But then?" Leroy prompted.
Rachel faked a cough. "Sorry," she said, clearing her throat, "I thought I swallowed a bug or something," she lied. "Where was I? Oh yeah, but then, well, she agreed to go out with a guy when she was standing right next to me, so yeah."
"As in, on a date?" Hiram asked.
Rachel thought back on the incident from earlier that morning. She and Jake Jacob had been cooling down after their practice hit when Quinn, Marley, Sloane, Cici and Emma had arrived for the team hit accompanied by Quinn's physiotherapist Mike Chang and her trainer Elliot Gilbert, who were also both helping Team USA that week. Jake had offered to be Rachel's hitting partner that morning when she had sought permission from Emma to train early so she could go fetch her fathers from the airport, which is why he was working with her instead of the other group.
Rachel and Jake were passing the rest of the girls, who by now were in the middle of warming up, on their way out when Jake stopped beside Quinn and asked, "So, are we on for tonight?" The hopeful look in his eyes piqued Rachel's interest.
Quinn grinned back at him. "We sure are."
Jake's expression changed to one of sheer delight. "Awesome! I have reservations for six-thirty this evening at the restaurant you picked."
"That sounds perfect," Quinn smiled back. Her eyes darted to Rachel, and the teenager did her best to school her expressions so the blonde wouldn't be able to see the distress she was feeling on the inside. "Say hi to your dads for me, Rach."
"I will," Rachel said, faking a smile. "I have to run. See you later, guys," she said to the group, before making her way out of the practice area. Jake caught up to her and accompanied her to where their cars were waiting to take them to the airport and to the hotel, respectively, but the walk there was silent. Rachel had only just remembered her manners and thanked Jake for the morning hit before jumping into the waiting Peugeot to pick her parents up from the airport.
She was certain that Quinn and Jake had been talking about a date, which is why she answered her Daddy in the affirmative. "Yes, on a date."
"Hmm," Hiram said. "I guess it would be odd for her to agree to go on a date with someone else while you were standing right there, if she was indeed interested in you."
"Oh honey," Leroy added, his eyes holding understanding when he looked at his daughter. "I'm sorry. Have you seen much of her since then?"
"Not really," Rachel said, and that was the truth. After all, she hadn't seen Quinn in the few hours since the incident.
Her fathers must have decided that a change of mood was in order, because they seamlessly changed the subject to the arrival of the shipment Rachel had sent to New York from Istanbul. The teenager was glad that they'd dropped the topic. She really didn't want to spend her morning dwelling on the fact that Quinn had agreed to go out with Jake. The trio chatted for a while longer before Rachel left, needing to get some rest before she was due to hit the gym with Emma and Elliot.
She met up with her parents in the lobby of the Ritz again at five-thirty that evening, tired to the bone after an intensive workout. They were going to eat dinner together before Hiram and Leroy went to see the Moulin Rouge Show and Rachel headed off to collapse into her own bed. The Berry's hopped in behind Philippe and set off for La Tour d'Argent, a restaurant Rachel had randomly recalled Francine Fabray interned at after completing her course at Le Cordon Bleu. The older Fabray sister had told her that she just had to go try the duck there the next time she was in the French capital and that had cemented Rachel's decision of where to take her parents on their first night in Paris.
The drive from the Ritz to the restaurant didn't take too long, and upon entering La Tour d'Argent Rachel, Hiram and Leroy were quickly led to table with a view of the Notre Dame, which Rachel had also requested on Francine's advice. They had just finished perusing and ordering from the restaurant's rather extensive wine menu, made extra enjoyable by her fathers' protestations over having been handed guest menus with no prices on them, when Rachel looked up and felt her heart stop for a second. 'Oh no..." she thought, eyeing the two men heading her way and darting a frantic gaze around the table for her own host's menu to hide behind.
She was too late. "Rachel!" came the call, and she plastered a smile on her face as a sharply dressed Jake approached the table, followed by the maître d'hôtel.
"Hi Jake," she said, straightening the skirt of her short black dress as she rose to greet him.
"You look stunning," Jake smiled, leaning in to kiss the brunette's cheek.
"As do you," Rachel complimented back.
Jake cast a look at her fathers, and Rachel thought to introduce them to him. "Daddy, Papa, this is Jake Jacob. He's a fellow tennis player, and he's helping the US team this week in the capacity of a hitting partner. Jake, these are my fathers, Hiram and Leroy," she said. Her parents stood up too and shook hands with the young man as the trio exchanged pleasantries.
"Would you care to join us?" Hiram asked, after shaking hands.
"No thank you, Sir," Jake said politely. "I wouldn't want to intrude on your family time. And anyway, my date should be out of the ladies room soon."
The minute the words left his mouth, Rachel caught sight of Gabrielle Delacour entering the room, looking gorgeous in a pale blue dress. 'Just how many tennis players decided to come to the same place tonight?' Rachel wondered just as the Frenchwoman caught sight of her and smiled. Jake noticed her smiling back, and turned to see the blonde himself. "And there she is," he grinned.
Rachel almost gave herself whiplash at the speed at which she turned to look at him. "Wait. I thought you were seeing Quinn tonight?" she said stupidly.
"What? Quinn? No!" Jake replied, his tone incredulous. "Why would you-ohhhh," he said, realization dawning on his face just as Gabrielle came to a stop beside him.
"Bonsoir, Rachel," Gabrielle said, before casting an inquisitive look at Jake who had just let out a laugh.
Jake shook his head at his date before looking back at Rachel, "Quinn played matchmaker tonight, and helped me ask Gabrielle out," he said, a faint blush gracing his tanned cheeks. "That's what we were talking about this morning."
"Ah," Gabrielle smiled, a look of understanding crossing her features. "Oui. She deed. Of course, she also knew zat I was interested een Jake. She ees clever, zat one."
The maître d'hôtel subtly cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone in their little group. "We should go sit down," Jake said. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. and uh, Mr. Berry. Enjoy your night."
"Au revoir," Gabrielle added, before the pair followed the maître d'hôtel to their table that was a good fifteen meters away from the one Rachel and her fathers were seated at.
The Berry's sat down again, and Rachel could feel her parents' eyes on her. Sure enough, Hiram was staring at her with a twinkle in his eyes when she looked up. "So," her Daddy said, a smile dancing at the edge of his lips, "Quinn Fabray, huh?"