Chapter 48. To Want More

The gardens of Christian's childhood were filled with lace and ribbons, colorful flower arrangements in large vases, and such decorations that it seemed as if we were decorating for some grandiose palace designed for royalty. Never in my life had I experienced such anxiousness, walking down the aisle with Christian's father, who said I was just as much his child as Christian.

After much hours of contemplation, I decided that a simple white gown that bore no ribbons… no lace… no long trails of ornamental bits and pieces to make it seem elaborate… would be the perfect gown. It was plain like myself, and yet gorgeous in its own way that I acknowledge and appreciated. A glossy surface like that of a pearl, the gown clung to my body and a small train followed at the waist, slightly dragging across the floor. My hair was down and straight as a board, and yet I felt prettier with my hair untouched, with only a white lily resting behind my ear, than the numerous hairstyles of curls that Cecille would spend several hours perfecting.

For the first time in awhile, I truly felt like I was the same girl I was before I entered the Moulin Rouge, and how sweet it was to be in my own skin again!

Grasping Christian's hand, I felt complete. It mattered not that the garden was filled with people that had traveled far and wide to see us be married. Christian wore a suit of the same material, and I laughed, realizing it was the first time I had truly seen Christian dress up.

As words that sealed our fate together were said, Christian and I looked at one another, squeezing our hands tightly as we anticipated the time we would finally be able to leave and continue the life we had begun, only now as husband and wife. All of the memories of the past, our meetings and trials and moments of tenderness together came flashing back through my eyes, all of them events that led up to this moment... standing here with our hands clasped ready to spend the rest of our lives together.

The pastor gave us our blessings as we kissed one another. Christian held me tightly as he twirled me around, not hesitating to break away. Smiling, I moved my hands to his hair, ruffling it up as I kissed him harder. Applause followed and some laughter at the fact that we had yet to break apart.

"That is the way to kiss him, honey!" Cecille cheered, causing more applause. "You show the world how much you love that man!"

"I can always feel safe, knowing I have you to make my day." Gregory commented before he, too, kissed the woman that he now loved.

"Come what may," Christian grinned when we broke apart, out of breath.

"Come what may," I whispered back, grinning to the point it almost hurt as I jumped into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck.

And, just like that, the promise of our future was sealed.

Giselle hesitated in the last row while she watched Isabel talk away with Cecille. The two women, both completely breathtaking in her eyes, had their love's hand resting tenderly on their shoulder as they watched them talk, not wanting to be anywhere else but at their side.

How much envy pulsed through her being when Giselle looked at Isabel. She carried herself in a way the young lady she had been when she first arrived at the Moulin Rouge had not. Finding her legs, Giselle slowly walked over, the first time she had allowed her nerves to get to her.

"My petite," Toulouse laughed. "I am so happy for you!"

Giselle hesitated when Toulouse entered the group as more happiness exerted itself. She did not want to enter and destroy the joy that surrounded them all.

"Isabel…" Giselle tried to look deadpan when her heart began to race at everyone's face turning to her. "May I have a word?"

"I suppose," Isabel turned to Christian and planted a kiss on his cheek. Christian, obviously unsatisfied, pulled her to him and kissed her hard before allowing her to depart. "What is it you must tell me?"

"Forgiveness," Giselle bit her lip, apologies one of the most foreign experiences she has undergone. "Isabel… you know everything that happened that night at the performance. I was supposed to kill you. I couldn't do it. I am sorry I ever agreed to do it."

"But you didn't do it," Isabel answered slowly.

"I couldn't."

"If anything, I probably should be apologizing for not telling you my thanks sooner," Isabel hugged Giselle and smiled. "We are not the closest people, Giselle, but I do owe you something."

"I don't need anything," Giselle replied sternly.

"You are always welcome with Christian and me."

"That especially. I will never go back to London."

"You know, I would help you… if you need help in Paris…"

"I don't need help," Giselle said, her defense going up once more. "I came here to apologize and wish you a great future with Christian. That is all. I did not come here in need of assistance. Have a good life with Christian."

Walking off, Giselle could almost see Isabel shrug and join her husband, who rained her with kisses at her arrival. Heading towards the exit, a dread for returning to Paris… joining the Moulin Rouge to pursue an acting career she no longer had a desire for suddenly came and took hold of her. Shuddering at the gloomy future ahead of her as she held her hand on the door of Christian's home, ready to leave, her shaking stopped when a warm hand came upon her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Toulouse inquired. "The wedding is not over yet."

"For me it is," Giselle remarked roughly, opening the door and walking through it.

"Are you happy now, mademoiselle?"

"Why would I be?" Giselle spat. "What use had I of coming? I come here, only to see the happiness of every person except myself, only to return to Paris and join a life that I used to long for but now despise."

"Why would you despise it?"

"Because," Giselle sat down on a chair in the hall of Christian's house. "I hate the Moulin Rouge. I hate the life I have. I want more."

"What is it that you need more of in your life, mademoiselle?"

"I want what Christian and Isabel had," Giselle admitted softly. "What Cecille and Gregory have finally have."

"And what is that?"

"I don't know," Giselle snapped defensively. "I just don't want to be alone anymore. I've always been."

"You know, you do not have to be alone."

"But I am destined to be."

"No one is destined to be alone."

"I am."

"Mademoiselle," Toulouse grabbed Giselle's hands, and she looked up, almost laughing because Toulouse was barely taller than she, although he was not sitting down. "Let me prove you wrong."

"How can you do that?"

"By taking you to Paris and allowing me to introduce you to my friends!" Toulouse suggested. "We will introduce you to all of our Bohemian ideals. Truth. Beauty. Freedom. Love. It will be magnificent! Superb! You will love it!"

"Love…" Giselle breathed the word. "Why are you doing this still? I will never understand why you would so willingly help me."

"Because I owe you, too, for saving Isabel and Christian. Without Isabel, Christian would be ruined, and Isabel would be lost. The guilt for Cecille would destroy her, and by doing what you did, you let her find true happiness as well." Toulouse explained simply. "I think you deserve the same happiness."

"May I ask you a question?"

"I think you just did."

"Yes, I did." Giselle laughed and startled herself. "What I mean is… when will we go back to Paris?"

"Whenever you want, mademoiselle."

"Is right now a bad time?"

"It is the perfect time," Toulouse smiled and, locking arms with Giselle, walked out to find the fastest trip back to Paris.