Louis hated waiting. It was, no matter how one looked at it, a dull activity.
He considered closing the book he held after reading the same line for the fifth time yet, since he had no other way to entertain himself, refrained from doing so. He stared at the fire and sighed.
Rosita took Felicie shopping for clothes which was, in everyone's opinion, a trip long overdue. The day he announced the shopping plans, the girl danced around the house so long that even Ada looked uncomfortable.
The child even wanted to invite Camille, her sworn enemy less than a week ago, and Nora and Dora, but Louis stopped this disaster in the making. One child was more than enough for Rosita to handle.
He thought they'd be finished in an hour or two. They were already gone for three.
Rosita took her carriage since his was waiting in the Opera for Odette to finish her first lesson. He would have stayed with her, but Auguste sent him home, claiming he was 'scaring the living daylights out of the children.'
An exaggeration, surely, but if one of them dared to –
"Monsieur?" Edgar knocked on the library door, then entered with a bow. "A letter for you." The servant presented him with a heavy, cream-colored paper marked with the chief of police's seal.
Joseph, then. Louis frowned as he opened the letter, and his frown deepened as he read the contents,
"Dear Louis,
I felt so disheartened when I had yet to receive a formal invitation for the Christmas dinner we had formerly agreed to share together. I must therefore conclude that the letter was lost in the mail, eaten by hungry dogs, or torn by evil winds! No other explanation can satisfy, I am certain.
Still, the wife said I must wait for a formal invitation, so I am writing to let you know I am indeed patiently waiting.
Yours truly,
Joseph Angevine."
Louis sighed. Evil winds indeed. "Edgar, could you wait a moment? I must write a reply."
He rose from his seat and moved to the nearby desk, where he crafted a short invitation, to which he added a short line promising four seats in a private box to the show on Christmas day. On second thought, he copied the script into another paper addressed to Auguste. The man was so popular it was unlikely he'd come, but he still liked to be invited.
When he finished, he sealed the envelopes and gave them to Edgar. "Give those to Phillippe to deliver when he returns. And ask Josephine to order a large Christmas dinner."
Edgar nodded. "Shall I order a tree as well?"
"Right. Yes."
Edgar nodded and exited. Usually, Josephine was the one in charge of decorating the house, but her Victorian taste was likely too severe for Felicie, let alone a Christmas party, so he'd have to come up with a different solution this year, which was already aggravating.
He hoped the child won't be a glutton. Even though Christmas eve was given to Camille, Felicie was to debut on Christmas day, and overeating might upset her stomach and affect her performance.
It was almost symbolic, he thought, how –
The doors to the house opened. Louis roused from his spot near the desk. Could it be Odette? Or –
The door to the library opened next, without much ceremony. "Dad! Look at my dress!"
A firestorm burst into the library, spinning and leaping from the carpet to the chaise to the wooden floor. Said firestorm, bright-eyed and grinning, landed gracefully at his feet, then giggled as she showed off the heavy fabric of her dress. "Isn't it the prettiest thing you'd ever seen? Rosalia said it's a winter day dress, and she also ordered me the prettiest winter evening dress, and even a Christmas dress! And – "
It seemed a woman, even a miniature one, had a need for quite a lot of dresses. No wonder they left for three hours. "Stop your rambling. And stop moving," Louis instructed, then gazed at the dress critically. Or at least, pretended to; he had absolute faith in Rosita's taste, but he sensed the child's excitement required a proper response and had no intention of dismissing her.
The dress was made of dark green velvet, thick and rich in color, and adorned with a matching cape. Despite the structured form, it wasn't stiff or constricting, as if Rosita had taken the child's tendency to run around and dance into consideration. It was pretty, he had to admit, and it looked warm.
He looked up, noting how the child stood frozen and watched him with large eyes and bated breath, and smiled. "Indeed. Very pretty. Make sure to take good care of It," he added sternly when Felicie broke into a blinding smile. "And thank Rosita properly."
"Oh, no, I have received more than enough thanks from her already," added an elegant voice as Rosita appeared at the doorway, bowing her head slightly in his direction. She held two boxes, both of which looked heavy and too large to contain children's clothes.
Louis rose and took them from her hands, confirming their weight. "Then let me thank you again." He placed them carefully on a nearby table. "Won't you join us for a drink?"
Rosita smiled, then shook her head. "I wish I could, but I have other matters to attend to. And besides, I think I had spent enough of your money for one day," she giggled.
Louis frowned. "Nonsense. Three dresses are hardly an expense."
Rosita giggled again. "Three? Oh, my dear Louis. You did not think a woman can survive on three dresses alone?" she teased. "The rest are at the tailor's and will be delivered when ready. And these," she gestured at the large boxes, "are for Madame Milliner. A new dress to fit her new status and another to celebrate her first student's debut. I figured you would not object?"
Her eyes were knowing, but her smile was kind.
"No, of course not. Thank you," he managed, gazing at the boxes. He counted on Rosita's taste, and Odette indeed needed proper winter attire, but would she see it as a gift or an insult? Would she –
"Ah. I think I hear a carriage, so it is my time to take my leave," Rosita said, bowed her head graciously, and turned away.
Where the hell were his manners? "Of course. I'll walk you out."
He placed the boxes on Odette's bed, then followed Rosita downstairs.
"Are you certain you would not like to stay for dinner? After all your efforts…" and his voice died, floating into nothing, as Edgar opened the door, revealing Odette.
The woman stood tall, her cane a mere accessory at her side. She looked up, her eyes meeting his unashamed, and smiled.
A soft, shy smile, nothing more, but he needed nothing else.
She seemed… radiant.
Odette suddenly looked down, her smile growing warmer, and hugged Felicie as the child rushed into her arms. "Odette! Look at my dress! Isn't it pretty? Rosita picked it for me! It's a winter day dress, and there's a night dress, and a Christmas dress, and a coat, and gloves, and shoes…." She took Odette's hand in both of hers and dragged her toward the stairs. "Come! I wanna show you everything!"
"All right, I'm coming!" Odette laughed, following the excited child. "Did you thank – "
"Yes! A billion times!" Felicie then grimaced and turned around. "Um, thanks again – "
"Of course, dear. It was a delight," Rosita answered, her voice amused.
Felicie grinned and carried on talking about the shopping trip, asking questions without waiting for a response, smiling and smiling and smiling.
He could not take his eyes off Odette.
A hand nudged his forearm.
Finally, Louis managed to look to his left, where Rosita stood with a teasing smile. She rolled her eyes. "You know, a mentor of mine once told me to reach for my dreams without hesitation or fear. Take a leap of faith, as far as I can jump." Her smile widened. "Perhaps you should follow his advice?" She winked, turned around, and bowed her head at Edgar as he opened the front door for her.
Louis did not wait to hear the door close. He walked upstairs, a new resolution hurrying his steps and leading him to Felicie's door…
Which was closed.
He raised his hand to knock, no plan or conversation in mind, and froze. He could hear them talking, Odette's voice soft and Felicie's bright and silvery, and they sounded happy, secure in each other's confidence.
And he promised Odette he would wait.
Louis lowered his hand, smiled to himself, and left for the library.
Patience. The only faith he had to have was in her; faith that should he wait, she would come.
"By the way, these are for you," Felicie pointed to the large boxes on the bed. "Um. Rosita and I picked them. Rosita said you need a new dress cuz you're a teacher now. I picked the blue one," she added excitedly, "cuz-because of your eyes. Rosita said I need to talk proper-ly. Oh, and the other one's for Christmas. When you come to see me perform," she mumbled shyly. "Unless you'd be behind the scenes? She said Dad would be behind the scenes. But then I guess you can wear it for dinner! Rosita said she'd come. She's very nice. Well, Open it! What do you think?"
Felicie jumped on the bed, gazing at the box and holding her doll, and so Odette sighed, rolled her eyes, and replied, "Fine. If you insist."
She undid the ribbon, letting it fall onto the covers, and tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. It's just a dress, she reminded herself, a costume, really. But something about the notion of wearing a nice dress and looking pretty, especially when Lou was around…
She removed the top.
A lovely dress made of blue velvet, decorated with silken ribbons and delicate lace. The elegant cut and the flow of the fabric were beautiful, she noted, tracing her finger over the dress, then removed her hand. It looked expensive.
"Dad didn't know," Felicie blurted, eyeing her anxiously. "Rosita said the coryphées will listen better if you wore that. She said people can be silly sometimes." Felicie scrunched her nose. "I think I was silly, too."
Odette sighed. She caressed Felicie's hair, then pulled her into her arms. "It is a lovely gift. Thank you." She smiled at the child. Her heart warmed when Felicie mimicked the gesture, then grinned broadly as she continued to chat about the shopping trip.
She seemed relieved, and the bright spark that returned to her green eyes reminded her of different eyes, brown and soft, that must have also waited for her as anxiously, if not more.
She smiled, blushing slightly as she picked up the dress, and beckoned Felicie with a hint of mischievousness in her voice. "Want to help me put it on?"
A knock on the library door snapped him from his reverie.
Louis looked up – and jumped up from his chair. "O-Odette," he stuttered, then shook his head. Control yourself, fool, he reprimanded himself, then closed the distance between them and took her hand in his. "You look beautiful."
The dress was elegant on her form, the blue deep yet echoing the color of her eyes. It looked… right, almost natural, and somehow more her than the old dress she wore earlier today.
"It fits you," he added, noting how her cheeks bloomed pink in response.
She did not shy away, this time, neither from his words nor from his touch. Instead, she took a step closer, and his heart stumbled, skipping and dancing about his ribcage like an unruly child.
"Well, then," she managed. Her eyes fluttered down, but her hand tightened its hold. "I suppose I can wear it tomorrow." She chuckled, her eyes gazing up. "Auguste was quite insistent I'd borrow a dress from the dancers' wardrobe, but I think this one is better."
"Yes," he agreed immediately, almost without thinking, and his cheeks heated under her amused gaze. "Tell me about your day." He led her to the chaise and sat next to her, still holding her hand. "Auguste refused to let me come," he admitted, disgruntled.
Odette, surprisingly, laughed. "Well, I wonder if he was worried you'd intimidate the coryphées or simply wanted to reserve that honor for himself." She rolled her eyes. "He basically told them that if they fail my class, they will be sacked from the academy and that they must earn my recommendation to advance to yours. I think the two of you have forgotten how much the girls like to gossip," she added, her eyes humorous. "The dance-off between Camille and Felicie was kept secret, so naturally, that's all everyone can talk about. Some even claim Felicie jumped a flight of stairs."
Louis huffed. "Do they now."
Odette hummed, chuckling. "I think they might be under the impression I can teach them how to jump that far, as well."
He shook his head. "Perhaps we should instruct the janitor to prevent anyone from attempting such foolishness."
"And by doing that, guarantee that at least one will be foolish enough to try," Odette reprimanded him gently. "I'm sure they will soon find something new to gossip about."
Louis nodded. He waved his hand aimlessly. "So they weren't…?
"Rude? No. And even if they will be, I am quite certain I can handle a class of eleven-year-olds by myself," she chastised.
Louis flinched, despite the gentleness of her voice, and looked up when he felt her hand squeezing his.
Odette smiled, amused. "You are distracted. It is unlike you."
"Well," he started, but his heart beat too rapidly for him to convert his feelings into words. He traced his thumb over her knuckles, savoring the sensation of her skin, and looked up, meeting her eyes. "You are beautiful."
"All of that because of a dress?" Her voice was teasing yet sharp at the edges and frayed in between. She looked down.
"No," he objected, his voice raw, and used his free hand to cup her cheek and tilt her head up. He had to look into her eyes and convince her of the truth in his. "You are… shining, Odette. Your eyes are shining. That's what I meant."
A part of him feared she'd turn away, distance between them, but Odette leaned into his touch, covering his hand with hers. "If they are, that's only because of you."
Louis' heart drummed faster and faster, beating loudly against his ears as he leaned closer –
"Monsieur," Edgar's voice interrupted him – the act separated them even as the man turned his head and stared pointedly at the painting above the fireplace. "I apologize for the intrusion, but Josephine asked about the Christmas decorations. She claimed it was a matter of urgency."
"Right." Louis raked his fingers through his hair, then dared a glance at Odette.
Though her cheeks burned red, she met his eyes with a soft smile. "I can help, if you'd like. I have a little bit of experience from helping Madame Le Haut plan her own parties."
"Yes, that would be wonderful," he hurried to agree. "It will be the first time I am planning any of the sort, so any help would be most appreciated. Thank you, Edgar. We will call you when we have something."
"Monsieur," Edgar replied, bowing as he left.
Odette waited, then whispered, "Is he always so…."
"Proper?"
"Yes."
"That's his job."
And Odette laughed, the sound soft and melodic and perfect, and all he wanted was to make it last. Make it his.
Patience, he reminded himself. Patience.
The Christmas party was elegant, beautifully organized, exceptionally executed, and finally – over.
Odette sighed, smiling at the sight of the exhausted Felicie finally asleep in her bed. She spent the entire day – and night – running around, playing with Joseph's daughters, charming his wife and Rosita, and, of course, playing with Victor.
It seemed she would never run out of energy, so in a way, even the fact they managed to get her to sleep in time felt like a miracle.
A soft, warm chuckle alerted her to another presence behind her. Lou placed his hand on her waist, pulling her closer toward him, and Odette let him, her breath shaky as she leaned into his touch.
"They do transform into little angels when they sleep, don't they?" he whispered, his voice caressing her ear. "And here I thought Joseph was simply exaggerating."
Odette laughed quietly. "Maybe they do it to convince us to keep them for yet another day."
Lou hmmed. "Join me in the library?"
She nodded, turned around, and tangled her arm in his.
She did not mind leaning on him for support; not anymore.
Lou smiled at her, his eyes freckled with gold, and led her to the library. He helped her sit on the chaise, then offered her a steaming mug. He poured himself a glass of cognac and sat next to her, as close as he could, and this time, Odette did not object to the gesture.
She leaned against his shoulder, holding the mug he gave her close to her chest. She breathed in deep the scent of hot cocoa and cloves and nutmeg and Lou, so close to her, and listened to the steady beating of his heart. His arm embraced her shoulder and rubbed her arm gently, oh so tenderly, and his lips grazed her forehead, pressing a featherlight kiss against her brow.
She smiled, snuggling into his touch and the fire's gentle heat, and sipped the sweet drink, almost as sweet as Lou's fingers, caressing her hair and her neck.
She wished the moment would never end; that night would never pass and fade into day; that the moonlight would never melt away, like candlewax, and drip slowly, turning moments into memories. She wished she could stay like that, with him, forever. She could… oh, her heart stumbled, weak and dazed. She could.
"Yes," she whispered, the word as sweet – no, the sweetest sound to ever escape her lips. "Yes," she mumbled into the crook of his neck.
Lou's fingers stopped in their tracks. "Odette? I… haven't asked you a question."
She smiled. Oh, God, she could not stop smiling. "Yes, you have." She placed the mug on the low table closest to her and raised her head so she could look at him, still engulfed in his embrace. "My answer is yes."
"You…" he breathed. His frown faded, and his voice faltered. Lou stared at her, eyes wide and yearning and vulnerable, as his hand reached to cup her cheek. "Odette."
Her smile could not be fought off. She smiled, tears in her eyes, and leaned into his touch. "Yes."
Lou straightened and guided her into his lap, his thumb brushing away her tears. His other hand held her waist, then traveled up, caressing her back and her neck, till his fingers tangled in her hair, freeing it to dance upon her shoulders.
His hand toyed with a lock of her hair, brushing it between his fingers, then he lifted it and pressed it against his lips. His gaze never left hers.
Oh, he was smiling. His eyes were wide with disbelief and hope and longing, but he was smiling.
"Yes," she whispered, cupping his cheeks and kissing his brow. "Oh, Lou…." She kissed his temples, searing her love into his skin with each soft and gentle kiss, sealing them against his temples, like a promise, never to be broken. "A thousand times yes," she whispered.
And Lou looked at her, his eyes sweet and shining like the brightest stars, fingers running through her hair. "You love me," he whispered, his voice raw and raspy and broken. "You love me," he repeated, voice barely heard.
Her trembling heart, set aflame by his touch, bled gold and yearning into her chest. "Yes," she whispered, "Oh, Lou, I never stopped loving you."
And she bowed her head and kissed him, kissing his lips until her mind was sun and warmth and Lou. His lips rushed to claim hers, daring and demanding and desperate, painting her mind with nothing but Lou as his fingers tangled deeper into her hair, pulling her closer against his chest. Her hands traveled down, caressing his chest, then traveled up to lock behind his neck and burrow deeper into his embrace.
She kissed him, kissed her love and her devotion into his lips until his touch softened and their lips parted, only for a second, to breathe and inhale the moment deep into their lungs, until their eyes – wide and tender and ever searching, found solace in the other's gaze, and his hand caressed her cheek, and the other hugged her waist, guiding her closer to him – only ever closer – and his lips found hers again and kissed her, soft and gentle and full of love.
His eyes were fire, and he kissed her with years of thirst and love and longing that bloomed within her like the first flowers of spring. For the first time in God knows how long, she felt warm and whole. Unbroken.
She melted into his embrace, his touch, his gentle hands and loving arms and tender lips that kissed her free of pain and doubts and darkness.
"Odette," he whispered, stroking her cheek. "Don't cry."
"I can't," she choked, her voice frail. "I'm so happy. Lou, I'm so happy." Her shoulders trembled in his arms. "I love you." Her eyes searched his, suddenly desperate for affirmation that –
Lou kissed her, his caress sweet and oh so gentle and yet intoxicating enough to overpower all her senses. He seared his love and his devotion into her lips with a touch, no, a vow, ethereal and everlasting, that bound and bled within their souls, as bright as the light in Lou's eyes.
"I told you. Everything I did, I did for you. Only for you, Odette. Only for you," he whispered as he kissed her temple, her brow, her lips.
"Only for you."
Notes:
Hey y'all! Sorry it took me so long to finish this - I am terrible at saying goodbye. Thank you so much for your encouraging comments and your patience. I hope this ending was worth the wait and that, though short, it was to your liking! Please share your thoughts and again - thank you so much for your love and support!