Satine bit her lip, trying to keep back her smile. Warm happiness was
filling her entire body and wanted to close her eyes, ball her hands into
fists and scream at the top of her lungs. She was in love. . . in love
with Christian. Everything would be all right. They would marry and live
happily ever after.
Now, all that was needed was a plan to get them out of this town.
She fingered the diamond ring, tracing every line and groove, memorizing it. She smiled, imagining how it would look on her finger in 10 years, in 20 years, forever.
She hugged it to her and kissed it. "I love you," she whispered.
There was a knock on her door and she turned around slowly, rolling her eyes. She had told Christian to go. . . but maybe he noticed he forgot something. She opened the door with a smile.
"Hello," Harold growled, pushing past her, Marie close behind him.
"Mail call." He slammed a letter down on the table and proceeded into the kitchen, opened up the freezer and stuck his left hand in the ice tray.
"Oh, darling, it's not that bad!" Marie said in her fading French accent, flopping down on the orange tattered couch.
"But it hurts!" he said, pulling out the ice tray with his hand still in there and leaning against the counter.
"What happened?" Satine asked, hiding her left hand behind her back and slipping the ring off her finger.
"Marie bit me!" Harold yelled, his face becoming bright red. "For no reason, she just bit me!"
Satine put the ring in her pocket as she held the letter up over her mouth so he couldn't see her smile.
"It was for a reason, you snoopy old geezer!" Marie said. She turned to Satine. "He tried to open your letter, dear."
She looked at the envelope in her hand. "Who is it from?"
"Robert," Harold said. "He wouldn't mind if I read it. . . he was the one who gave it to me in the first place!"
"It's probably a love letter!" Marie said. "You don't go around reading other people's love letters. She's getting married soon, you know! She's not a little girl anymore."
"Yeah, and you know who made that possible?" he asked irritably. "And until she DOES get married, you old woman, she's MY problem! And I have a right to know what's going on!"
Satine scanned her eyes through the letter. No way was Robert talking about love, unless percentage of stocks were romantic. Something about flying to Italy. . . a business trip. . .
Her eyes brightened. This was her chance! She read the paragraph over word for word, feeling excited even by his dull words.
"Business takes me away from the country all this week, so our wedding will take place on Friday when I get back instead of that Thursday. Don't go out and party, I will call you at exactly 9:00 at night so be waiting by the phone. On Friday my chauffeur will pick you up in a limousine - be all ready. He will take you to the church and then it's off to France for our honeymoon."
Satine started to laugh. It was all so easy. . . all so simple. . .
"What's so funny?" Harold asked, picking his hand out of the ice tray to give it some air.
"Don't ask her that," Marie said. "It's a PRIVATE love letter!"
Harold scowled and stuck his red hand back in the ice cube tray. "Robert just doesn't strike me as the funny type," he murmured.
"He. . ." she started quietly. Why should she live unhappy the rest of her life just for their sake? She lifted up her chin and spoke louder. "He wants me to meet him at the church on Thrusday. . . alone."
"Alone?" Harold asked, his bushy brows pushed together.
"He wants it a private ceremony. . . over quick."
"Let me see that." He reached out for the letter, but was intercepted by Marie.
"No Harold," she said, snatching the letter. Satine held her breath. If Marie looked down, she could easily see she was lying. "This letter is personal. . . if she says he told her to meet here there, then we should respect that. No questions asked."
Harold frowned. "Don't you even want to know what it says?"
"No."
She handed it back to Satine, and she finally felt herself able to breathe.
"Now, let's leave Satine alone," Marie said, pulling Harold with her.
"But-"
She silenced him with her finger. "Come on, we have an ice tray at home."
Satine waited a few minutes after they left before she sat down at the kitchen table and started to draft a letter.
Her pen flowed effortlessly on the paper and at once she knew that this was the right decision, she'd never been more sure. In 2 days, they'd finally be out of here and be together.
Dear Christian,
Just thinking about you and I get butterflies in my stomach. I miss you so much, even though I just saw you this afternoon. My darling, after everything was laid out I thought it was impossible for us to even dream of being together, but not now. Not now! I have found a way for us to be together. . .
----------------------------------------- Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. And, um. Robert Duken is not the real son of a producer, I just made him up.
A/N: Ok, this took me a LONG time to write, and such a little bit of it, too! Thanks to Stacie for yelling at me to write this, so it's all to her you have a chapter 15.
Songs used: -none-
Now, all that was needed was a plan to get them out of this town.
She fingered the diamond ring, tracing every line and groove, memorizing it. She smiled, imagining how it would look on her finger in 10 years, in 20 years, forever.
She hugged it to her and kissed it. "I love you," she whispered.
There was a knock on her door and she turned around slowly, rolling her eyes. She had told Christian to go. . . but maybe he noticed he forgot something. She opened the door with a smile.
"Hello," Harold growled, pushing past her, Marie close behind him.
"Mail call." He slammed a letter down on the table and proceeded into the kitchen, opened up the freezer and stuck his left hand in the ice tray.
"Oh, darling, it's not that bad!" Marie said in her fading French accent, flopping down on the orange tattered couch.
"But it hurts!" he said, pulling out the ice tray with his hand still in there and leaning against the counter.
"What happened?" Satine asked, hiding her left hand behind her back and slipping the ring off her finger.
"Marie bit me!" Harold yelled, his face becoming bright red. "For no reason, she just bit me!"
Satine put the ring in her pocket as she held the letter up over her mouth so he couldn't see her smile.
"It was for a reason, you snoopy old geezer!" Marie said. She turned to Satine. "He tried to open your letter, dear."
She looked at the envelope in her hand. "Who is it from?"
"Robert," Harold said. "He wouldn't mind if I read it. . . he was the one who gave it to me in the first place!"
"It's probably a love letter!" Marie said. "You don't go around reading other people's love letters. She's getting married soon, you know! She's not a little girl anymore."
"Yeah, and you know who made that possible?" he asked irritably. "And until she DOES get married, you old woman, she's MY problem! And I have a right to know what's going on!"
Satine scanned her eyes through the letter. No way was Robert talking about love, unless percentage of stocks were romantic. Something about flying to Italy. . . a business trip. . .
Her eyes brightened. This was her chance! She read the paragraph over word for word, feeling excited even by his dull words.
"Business takes me away from the country all this week, so our wedding will take place on Friday when I get back instead of that Thursday. Don't go out and party, I will call you at exactly 9:00 at night so be waiting by the phone. On Friday my chauffeur will pick you up in a limousine - be all ready. He will take you to the church and then it's off to France for our honeymoon."
Satine started to laugh. It was all so easy. . . all so simple. . .
"What's so funny?" Harold asked, picking his hand out of the ice tray to give it some air.
"Don't ask her that," Marie said. "It's a PRIVATE love letter!"
Harold scowled and stuck his red hand back in the ice cube tray. "Robert just doesn't strike me as the funny type," he murmured.
"He. . ." she started quietly. Why should she live unhappy the rest of her life just for their sake? She lifted up her chin and spoke louder. "He wants me to meet him at the church on Thrusday. . . alone."
"Alone?" Harold asked, his bushy brows pushed together.
"He wants it a private ceremony. . . over quick."
"Let me see that." He reached out for the letter, but was intercepted by Marie.
"No Harold," she said, snatching the letter. Satine held her breath. If Marie looked down, she could easily see she was lying. "This letter is personal. . . if she says he told her to meet here there, then we should respect that. No questions asked."
Harold frowned. "Don't you even want to know what it says?"
"No."
She handed it back to Satine, and she finally felt herself able to breathe.
"Now, let's leave Satine alone," Marie said, pulling Harold with her.
"But-"
She silenced him with her finger. "Come on, we have an ice tray at home."
Satine waited a few minutes after they left before she sat down at the kitchen table and started to draft a letter.
Her pen flowed effortlessly on the paper and at once she knew that this was the right decision, she'd never been more sure. In 2 days, they'd finally be out of here and be together.
Dear Christian,
Just thinking about you and I get butterflies in my stomach. I miss you so much, even though I just saw you this afternoon. My darling, after everything was laid out I thought it was impossible for us to even dream of being together, but not now. Not now! I have found a way for us to be together. . .
----------------------------------------- Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. And, um. Robert Duken is not the real son of a producer, I just made him up.
A/N: Ok, this took me a LONG time to write, and such a little bit of it, too! Thanks to Stacie for yelling at me to write this, so it's all to her you have a chapter 15.
Songs used: -none-