Disclaimer: Love Actually, Aurelia, Jamie, and the basic story, really, belong to Richard Curtis.
Author's Note: I'd like to thank all of the wonderful people who left reviews: Lis, Sammy11, Amariel, ChelseaBloom, karen1, mimibaby, JessieRose, and organized-chaos. Your reviews mean a lot to me, so thanks for going out of your way to leave them :) Oh, yes, and I believe that the woman who greets Jamie when he gets to the cottage is named Eleonore. Please, PLEASE correct me if I'm wrong.
~*~
Chapter Two: Another Idiot
Aurelia
So, someone had finally rented the cottage again. It felt like forever since I had last worked as a housekeeper there. To be truthful, it had only been a week. People usually rented it during the summer, spring and holidays, or so I figured, so the fact that someone had rented it now wasn't too surprising. I had only gotten the job this spring, but it didn't take much experience to figure that one out.
The fact that I didn't know how to speak French never really got in the way of my work. If anything, it gave me a sense of power. I could call someone an idiot and they would never know. Apparently, the soon-to-be-called idiot had rented the cottage a few years before. Went there with his girlfriend. Didn't want to think about their reasons.
I sighed and rolled over in my bed. It was a little past midnight, but I still couldn't fall asleep. Starting work after a two-week break was one of the hardest things in the world, or so I thought at the time. Silently, I got up, feeling the sweat on the soles of my feet stick to the floor as I placed my feet down after each step. Crossing the room, I drew back the curtains just the tiniest bit and smiled a little at the full moon I could see out the window. A misty layer of clouds veiled the moon. The closest clouds to it were steeped in its light, forming a glowing circle. It was breathtaking, a much better view than anything the cottage could offer. I wondered for a moment why this soon-to-be-called idiot didn't just look out his window right now and save his money, but then I remembered he had a girlfriend. And if she was like most girlfriends who drag their boyfriends to cottages in the French countryside, she would feel more loved being paid for than simply enjoying what is right in front of her with the man she loves. Of course, if I ever found true love, I'd settle for staying right where I was with his arms wrapped around me.
Those semi-romantic thoughts had triggered a lot of mental smacks to the forehead. If I wasn't careful, I'd soon be longing for a boyfriend and that would be no fun. Now was not the time to dive headfirst into a pool of regret, at least not willingly.
Smiling, I watched as the clouds slowly moved. Now, there was a huge hole in the cloud-mask right over the moon, as though the clouds had parted to emphasise it.
With a final glance at the moon, I pulled the drapes closed as tightly as possible and turned away. Again, there was a sucking sound as I lifted my feet from the floor. I never thought the bottoms of your feet could sweat, I thought, now drowsy enough not to mentally quirk an eyebrow at that observation.
I yawned and climbed into bed, slowly falling asleep more and more with each passing second.
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I hadn't slept at all. This is what I get for staring at the moon all night, I scolded myself. Wearily, I got dressed and went downstairs to eat breakfast, which consisted of only an apple when I saw the time. Cursing in my head, I pulled on my shoes and stepped outside. Luckily, the woman who had rented out the cottage, Eleonore, wasn't waiting for me yet, so it looked like I had been perfectly punctual. I stopped myself in mid-yawn as her car pulled up in front of me. I smiled warmly at her, said hello, got inside, and pulled the seat belt across my stomach, snapping it into place.
There was hardly any conversation on the drive there. She explained to me that whoever had rented the cottage this time was going to be driving me home. I nodded, smiled, and stayed silent. There wasn't much to talk about, and she knew I was used to staying quiet. It had been a long time since I felt obligated to talk to someone, since a lot of the time the people I was cleaning up after couldn't speak Portuguese. I smiled as I looked out the window, seeing how close we were. In only a few minutes, we had parked in front of the cottage, and I remembered why I loved this job. The beauty of everything around me was enough to make anyone's heart beat faster. The sun felt comforting and warm on my face as I stepped out. I heard Eleonore speaking to someone in English, but I kept my eyes on my feet as long as possible, not wanting to burst out laughing when I saw his face. From his voice, I was positive that was what would happen if I looked at him.
But, oddly enough, I didn't. I hear him address me, my cue to raise my eyes, and prepared to face the inevitable. However, when I had finally forced myself to look at his face, I couldn't help but stare into his eyes. They were a deep, chocolate brown that seemed almost warm, and there was a hint of sadness in them. Then, if you dug deeper, there was hope, joy, and regret, all in that small space. Beautiful, I found myself thinking. Those eyes are beautiful. I looked down to hide the light blush I felt on my cheeks, realizing how long I had been staring at him. Finally, I then became aware that he had said 'Bonjour'.
"Bonjour," I returned. And that was where the conversation ended. Eleonore said something in English, and I heard my name mentioned among the gibberish. I smiled, amused, as he tried, once again, to make conversation. Eleonore laughed and I hid a smirk with each attempt. He may have been an idiot, but he was certainly a funny one.
This was certainly going to be amusing.