The plates collided with each other while being stacked on top of the white marble countertop, creating a dangerous tower. People squeezed into the small order picking room and, no matter how much Nicolette tried to put order with cutting requirements in French, the chaos was inevitable.
- This is impossible. – Emily complained, not able to enter the room where the orders where sent from the kitchens to collect the incoming of table 11. Probably, the Falafels with beetroot sauce were already cold, she would have to go downstairs to replace them herself.
- That's what happens when you use a bunch of substitutes because half the staff has caught the flu. – Chloe said calmly, the girl had been with her arms crossed for some minutes, waiting at the door, undeterred by the chaos around them, it seemed that she had seen everything in that restaurant and nothing could disturb her.
- They should have hired someone to help us with our tables, because you and I can't take care of the whole room on our own.
Just that day George had fallen ill, and just that day there were more than 10 tables waiting to be served in English.
- Nicolette is allergic to Americans, that's why there are just a few of us. – Chloe explained.
At that time both girls saw a gap in the crowd and hurried to rescue their plates, luckily they still kept the right temperature.
- Falafels with beetroot sauce. – The brunette announced with a smile as she placed a couple of dishes in front of the two gentlemen in suits who occupied the table 11. – Enjoy your food.
She retired in haste, returning to the infernal room of dishes. There were two tables that had been waiting more than 10 minutes for their orders and the woman with insanely long hair in table 6 had thrown her a couple of disapproving glances, it was only a matter of time for her to call the brunette's attention.
- Natalie. – Nicolette called her as she approached her, and Emily ignored her, so focused on the race of human obstacles that was in front of her that she hadn't even reacted to the name. – Natalie!
- Yes? – She asked, stopping short at the second call, the last thing she needed that night was to be reprimanded by her boss and that frown in the space between her eyes didn't bode anything good.
- You have to attend table 34. – She demanded in English with French accent and the girl blinked, puzzled, because it was so awkward for Nicolette to leave her language.
- Okay… - Emily turned to the room without thinking too much about the request, acting automatically.
She walked towards the table with alacrity, ready to take the orders, but the brunette remained static, just a few steps away from the customers, when she saw the plaque beside the number 34 placed in the center of the table cloth. A French flag. Emily's eyes bulged, was it supposed to be a joke or was it…? No, no, no, she couldn't… she didn't know! She undid her steps and returned to the edge of the room.
- Eh… excuse me… -The girl approached Nicolette timidly, feeling the nerves beginning to stir inside of her. She must have mistaken the number, surely that's what happened.
- What do you want? – She snapped, without even glancing at her, she was completely absorbed in the craziness that was in front of her, how could those substitutes be so damn useless?
- The thing is… on table 34 there is… there is a French flag…
- Oui. – She stated simply. Emily swallowed.
- So… shouldn't go to attend them someone who...? – Her voice turned off as the woman's face turned towards her.
- Go. – A sharp and concise response accompanied by a look that clearly told her that she could start saying goodbye to her job if she didn't begin to move at that exact moment.
She should have insisted that she didn't know French, that she didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of any customer, that the strange test or desperate gesture or whatever the woman was doing would be worse for her than for the brunette. But Emily was only able to re-enter the room and count her breaths. She felt like she was going to take an exam for which she wasn't prepared. She walked slowly to the table. There were four men and a woman, all dressed impeccably, with that indescribable usual something that belonged to the city and gave them the class and elegance that made her palms sweat.
She'll greet them in French, she could do that.
The girl walked the two steps that she had left and placed herself between two of the men, facing the third sir and the woman.
- Bonjour. – The brunette said, with as much conviction as she could.
- You mean, bonne nuit, right? – The man on her left corrected her and, when the girl looked at him, the air stayed trapped in her throat. – Hello, Natalie. – Demetz said, smiling with that kind of curvature on his lips that suggested that he knew something he shouldn't know.
- Mr. Demetz… - She hadn't seen him while approaching the table because he had had his back facing her and, with all her nervousness, she had even missed the black wheelchair.
- Oh, stop that "mister" thing, you make me feel like my father. – The occupants of the table laughed at the comment. – Call me Antoine. – Emily barely managed to nod and his smile widened. – How are you?
- Fine… - She said, what was that man doing there?
- Yes? I'm glad to hear that. Are you enjoying Paris? – He looked at the brunette like he was studying her, like he was measuring each of the slight changes that her face was suffering.
- Yeah, it is… great.
- And Nicolette? Is she treating you well? – Emily followed the look the boy had diverted somewhere behind her and saw the maître, leaning within the room door, watching them. – I know that sometimes she can be very tough.
- No, she… everything is fine. – She cleared her throat and focused on the feeling of the hard ground beneath her feet, she was so unstable in those heels. – Do you want the menu or…?
- Oh no, we already know what we want.
They ordered the special menu of the night and the most expensive drink they had in the restaurant. The brunette walked away with her heart clattering against her ribs, full of anxiety, seeking the safety outside the room. Nicolette was nowhere to be seen.
- Hey, are you okay? – Chloe asked her when they crossed their hurried paths, she must had have such an awful face…
- Yes. – Emily said, feeling how dry her mouth was.
She shouldn't be that disturbed, it was totally normal that Demetz was there that night. After all, his father was a great contributor to the business and he himself must have contacts in the high levels of that place (Nicolette, surely), how else would have he been able to offer that kind of job to two complete strangers? She had to calm down and just do her work, like every night, there was nothing to be worried about.
The bustle of the salon was almost enough to distract her and calm her quivering pulse while serving dishes on table 34, almost. The truth was that she felt very uncomfortable having to prove her "skills" to the person who had gotten her a job in that huge city. If it wasn't for Demetz, Alison and her would be lost and probably programming their life in the cold streets of Paris. They owed him everything. And that was getting in her nerves, knowing that, perhaps, the slightest mistake, her mistake, could cost them everything they had achieved so far.
When dessert time came, Emily served them a "Chocolate Volcano", a new specialty that the chef was trying to introduce in the menu.
- Natalie. – Demetz said as the girl placed the perfect chocolate dessert between his cutleries. – Thanksgiving is next week, right?
- Yes. – The brunette answered, a little bewildered.
- Well, I know that the Americans celebrate it with style, so I thought it would be good to throw a party at this restaurant, would you like to participate?
- Sure… I mean, if it's at night I'll be here like every night and… - The girl began.
- No, no, no. – He stopped her, slowing her words. – I would like you to come as a guest.
- Oh. – She was surprised, she thought that he only wanted her presence to keep "evaluating her" at her work or whatever he was doing that night, because the brunette hadn't miss any of the "X-rays" he had made her with his gaze.
- Yes, I'd love you to join us. – He looked at the other people on the table and everyone nodded with a smile, watching the brunette from top to bottom, she was like one of those laboratory rats, standing in the middle of an experiment. – There will be a string orchestra, champagne… and I can assure you that you won't have to serve a single menu. What do you say?
- Of course… of course I'll go, well, if Nicolette…
- Don't worry about Nicolette, I'll take care of her. You'll only have to wear a beautiful dress and enjoy the evening. Oh, and… it would be nice too if you'll bring your friend, the blonde one, what was her name? Alison?
He said it casually, as if he had really tried with any name because he couldn't remind the name of the girl, Emily did what she could to not let the vertigo twisting her gut appear in her face as a panic expression. The brunette forced her lungs to keep working and stared at him.
- Estella, her name is Estella. – There was an unavoidable hint of tension in her voice.
- Oh, right, sorry. – He shook his head slightly as he laughed at his own confusion. – Estella, then. Bring her too, okay?
- Sure.
She came out of the room surprisingly steady, trying to not hyperventilate.
Demetz knew. He knew who they were, both of them, Alison and her, and he had specifically requested her that night as his waitress to make it clear.
But, what was the reason behind that action? Was he going to blackmail them, scare them, manipulate them? Asking favors always has its side effects, Emily was sure of that, and she was terrified at the thought of those side effects coming from that man.
And to think that it looked like things were starting to work for them… she didn't even want to imagine the blonde's reaction when she'll tell her that they were no longer anonymous citizens lost in the Parisian avenues, but Emily and Alison, with their terrible past about to seize their new life.
She was swimming. She was sinking slowly into the depths of the ocean. She felt the comforting touch of water in her body, surrounding her, wrapping her from head to toe. She didn't need to breathe, she just had to continue giving broad strokes against the current, pushing towards the unfathomable blackness that lay in front of her.
She should be terrified, covered in anxiety, felling uneasy to discover whatever that was hiding in that impenetrable darkness and yet… she wasn't afraid, the muscles of her body just tightened to allow her movement and her heart pulsed controllably on her chest, quiet, immersed in the peace given by that soft weightlessness.
But, at some point, further progress wasn't simple anymore, it was harder and harder to overcome the density of water and in her mind she couldn't help thinking that it would be so easy to escape that infinite abyss… she just had to stay still, being swayed by marine air bubbles to the surface and let herself succumb to the moderated current that would take her to the shore, to dry and secure lands.
Slowly, she felt a noose tangling around her waist, not oppressing her, just accompanying her progress and, suddenly, she was no longer alone. There was a body pressed against her back and a tremendously familiar scent flooding her senses. And just knowing that someone was in that mysterious journey next to her made her move more forcefully. Now she wanted to keep going.
Then she felt a warm breath tickling her neck and heard the unmistakable sound of wind shaking the leaves of the trees…
When Emily woke up there was no sign of water around her, only the light of dawn beginning to sneak through the window she was facing and the light weight of Alison's arm over her waist. She placed a hand on her warm skin and felt how the blonde moved closer to her body. The brunette closed her eyes and smiled.
Now that was a very good way to start the day, usually, when she woke up, the blonde was already in the shower, getting ready to go. Usually was every day. She opened her eyes quickly and looked at the clock on the nightstand. 8:02.
- Ali, it's 8 a.m – She said with raspy voice, trying to turn around to look at her.
- Mmmm?- The blonde snarled, without opening her eyes but removing the arm off her waist, letting Emily able to face her.
- You're late for work. – She said softly and the growl she got in response was stronger than the previous one. Alison turned and laid face down. – Ali, are you okay?
- Mmmm… - The blonde opened just one eye and saw her expression of concern. – Em, I don't have to go to work today.
- You don't? – The brunette was shocked.
- No. – Alison stretched out and Emily noticed the piece of skin that her shirt uncovered with the movement. – Yesterday the electrical system of the store died and they told us that today the place would be closed so it could be repaired. – The brunette looked at her with a frown. – It was all very dramatic, people screaming, the lights dropping sparks… a complete catastrophe.
- Why didn't you tell me last night?
- Because… - Alison sat up and pulled the sheets till she covered her body when she felt the cold air of the early morning touching her skin. – I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, I had bought us some croissants. – Then the blonde looked at the brunette with squinted blue eyes. – But you woke up before me and screwed the whole plan.
Emily smiled at the fake pout on Alison's face, the blonde had to look away to maintain a minimally straight expression. Her girl had tried to have a gesture, and when Alison was that sweet and thoughtful (something she had discovered she was capable of since they had arrived to that city) Emily melted, instantly. The brunette approached her and kissed her right cheek, letting her lips fall to her neck, where her mouth rested.
- I'm sorry. – Emily whispered against her skin.
- It's okay. – Alison said with a sigh.
The brunette started to pull at the edge of the covers, looking at her playfully.
- So… you were planning to kidnap me in bed all morning. – Emily said, beginning to withdraw the sheets slowly.
- No, but… - The brunette climbed under the blankets and hugged her. Alison had noticed that it happened more a more often, Emily being the first one to seek contact instead of her, and she thought, proudly, that those little pieces of clothe that she wore as "pajamas" were starting to have an effect. – it's a good alternative. – She concluded, fitting into the brunette's arms.
- What did you want to do?
- I wanted to take you to a jardin for lunch.
- A jardin? – Repeated Emily, trying that simple French word in her mouth.
- Damn, you sound so sexy in French… - Alison whispered, stroking the brunette's cheek with her nose. Emily shivered.
- Ali, I have no idea of French. – The girl laughed.
- I can teach you. – The blonde brushed the girl's mouth with her own lips before kissing her left cheek.
It wasn't just the sensation of Alison's lips on her skin, it was also the sensation of Alison's hands on her hips and Alison's legs caressing her from her thighs to her calves. It was Alison, all over her.
- So… am I gonna… see that garden? – The brunette asked, swallowing hard when she felt the hot mouth of the blonde travelling towards her neck, she also felt her smiling.
- If you want to…
- I want to…
- You sure? – She teased a little more and looked up when the brunette nodded. Her cheeks were dyed in red. – You're so beautiful when you blush, even more than usual.
And it was true. Her face looked completely breathtaking when she blushed. She felt so close to her in that moment…
"I love you", it was on the tip of her tongue, about to slip naturally out of her mouth.
She felt it, she could really feel that she loved her, and it was shocking and frightening how an emotion could wake up such a physical reaction as it was the tingling that filled every inch of her body.
Alison parted her lips, looking into her eyes, and her cheeks were now the ones irritated by the amount of blood dragged to them because of her very loud and quick heartbeats. She was ready, she was going to tell her, it was time…
The words remained trapped behind her lips.
They should be falling easily, they should be overflowing from her mouth, but they didn't, and they didn't because she wouldn't let them, because she wasn't ready to give herself to someone in that way, even if that someone was Emily, because saying "I love you", while feeling it, wasn't as simple as it may seem, because that set of letters were much more than words… because she was so freaking scared.
Instead of saying anything she kissed her, and in her head the blonde repeated, again and again, that she loved her as she pressed her lips against the brunettes, as she slid her tongue in her mouth. She didn't care when her taste buds met the slight bitterness of her sleep, she kissed her slowly and deeply, because she loved her and because, still, it was the only way she could let her know it.
When they ran out of breath the blonde freed the brunette's mouth and joined their foreheads.
- And… where are those croissants? – Emily panted, making Alison laugh.
They were happy, in that rickety bed, among those sad walls, the two of them were simply happy.
It was almost hot. The sun rose in the sky with pride, after days of shyness in which he had decided to hide behind the clouds that covered the air and distributed spontaneous rains.
The streets of Paris were full of life and it was rare to see someone not smiling while walking over the worn tiles of the sidewalks. It was a good day.
Alison held Emily's hand as she led her through the crowd, telling the girl how Agathe, the hotel lady, had made them a pair of giant sandwiches for lunch.
- She believes that we've been kicked out of home. – The blonde explained to the brunette. – She thinks that our parents forbidden us to be together and, as we refused to broke up, we run away to Paris.
- That's what she thinks? – Maybe their story was complicated, but that woman had made out an entire soap opera on her mind.
- Yeah, and she says that she understands it, that she supports us. Apparently she did the same with her husband. – Alison shook her head, she would love to know what really happened between that woman and her husband. – That's why she gives us dinner every night, she thinks that we are starving or something.
- And she told you all that last night?
- Yes, I went to see her before she brought anything and I asked her If she could change the dinner for something to eat this morning.
- Ali… - Emily started.
- What? – The blonde asked innocently.
- We don't need anything, we can afford…
- Em, you were right, she just wants to help us, why not let her?
- Because it's not necessary. We're taking advantage of her.
- Come on, Em. She gives us her leftovers, it's not like she's cooking exclusively for us.
- Even so…
The conversation ended when they reached the entrance of the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was huge. Behind a brief black fence, appeared yards of tall trees and lush hedges or… well, maybe just hedges. Being winter the few leaves that still survived anchored to the dried bodies of the various plants were of a dark and dull green. The branches of the trees stood out thin and naked, completely exposed, and the lack of living vegetation left bared the different paths of stone and earth that made the place. It is curious how in winter, while the rest of beings try to keep out the corrosive coldness, the plants choose to stay with their skeletons in contact with the air to harden with the rawness of the weather.
It was a beautiful place, in its own way. There was something about being able to see the curvature of the logs and feel the chill of the water in the fountains that appeared here and there that made out of that rough terrain a unique and incomparable spot.
In the center of the gardens there were extensions of rectangular grass, sizeable sections leading to a more open area shaped like a cross, behind which a palace stood with its white façade and dark blue roof, full of windows.
- Do you know that this place was made because a woman got tired of living in the Louvre? – Alison said as they walked toward the palace. – Can you imagine? Get tired of living in the Louvre and ordering to build a palace in the middle of the city to surround it by trees and make your own garden.
- It's not a bad plan for the future, though… - The brunette added, seeing as the blonde's face illuminated. – I hope you don't want a palace right now.
- I'm happy with an apartment, our apartment. – Emily felt a slight squeeze on the hand held by Alison and they headed to one of the banks that were scattered along the rows of trees without leaves. – Do you see the grass? – She pointed at the rectangles of withered grass. – People often sit there to spend summer evenings, we can come back when spring arrives and have a real picnic.
They remained in silence for a few seconds, letting the meaning of those last words get into them, while watching the empty space. Hopefully, they'll still be there to see how spring develops avenue by avenue.
- Can we talk about the apartment for a second? – The brunette said suddenly and Alison looked at her. – I know that we can't afford it but we could start looking for and…
- It's absurd to look for anything right now, Em. If we find something we won't be able to keep it and another person would take it and… it's just not a good idea.
- Okay…
Alison knew that she had been way too sharp with that answer but she had confirmed the first visit to an apartment that seemed decent to live in the last afternoon. She still wanted everything to be a surprise for the brunette, for Emily to not worry about that matter.
They ate without saying any other word, without even commenting on the disproportionate size of the sandwiches or how "seedy" it was to be eating simple pieces of bread stuffed with cold meat. The blonde was the one filling the silence with comments about how the Parisians were crammed into layers and layers of clothing, even if it wasn't that cold, how the sun seemed to glow differently in the European sky... and, suddenly, in just two meaningless sentences, Alison was comparing everything with Rosewood.
It was something she had done a lot while she had been away from home for her years of "exile". And in that particular day, without really wanting it (because she was in Paris with Emily), the image of her mother was added to those thoughts. She had been avoiding it successfully for a while but, that time, she hadn't been able to suppress the instantaneous switch from the memories of the town to the memories of the inside of the DiLaurentis's house, sinister and emaciated memories.
She glanced at the brunette, who was still eating quietly, what would go through her mind when the sounds around her lost strength against her thoughts?
- Would you like to call your mother? – Alison asked her and Emily almost choked on her sandwich.
- What? – Maybe she had heard it wrong… she wished she had heard it wrong.
- You must miss her a lot. – She spoke with her sight blurred, as always happened when she talked about a personal issue, wasn't she saying that in Rosewood people didn't have one iota of the style that filled Paris? When had appeared the "mother thing" in the conversation?
- I do, of course I miss her but… our security is more important. – She felt so bad when she said it that she thought she'll be sick. Emily had spoken with her mother the previous morning, for 30 long minutes.
- I think that… if A hasn't appeared by now it won't appear tomorrow. – She looked at her. – You're lucky to have the mother you got Em, if I was in your place I don't know if I would have left her for…
- Hey, we've talked about this before, I made a decision and I don't regret it. – She stroked her hand. That subject had come out of nowhere and Emily was puzzled, it was still difficult for the brunette to think that Mrs. DiLaurentis was gone and, it was obviously more difficult for her to get into the blonde's skin and try to imagine what she was going through. – I love my mom and I miss her but… - "I love you more", she couldn't say that out loud because, in some way, it was horrible to just think about it. It wasn't that she loved her more, it was… a different way of loving, but she had put the blonde before her own mother, before anyone, and both of them knew that. – I'm here, okay?
- I know. – She nodded. – But I'm sure we can find a way to do it without leaving many tracks of where we are. – She wouldn't go into the reasons of her insistence, she wasn't ready to talk about it, but the reality was that her mother was dead, and that before dying, the last thing she had done for her had been burying her alive. They had never had the best relationship in the world, but she was her mother, no matter what. And the brunette had a decent mother, alive, which she should be taking care of, or at least not forcing her to call the military forces because of her disappearance with the girl who decided to hide from the world for years.
- I… I'll think about it. – It was the perfect time to confess, the perfect time to tell her that she was in touch with the people of Rosewood, that she hadn't gone more than two days without talking to her mother, that everyone knew they were okay, that… all her intentions were reduced to nothing when Alison snuggled against her and reached for her arm to put it over her shoulders.
Emily's thoughts were completely blocked when the blonde intertwined their fingers and kissed the palm of her hand, leaning further into her body. She couldn't pick a fight at that moment, she couldn't argue with her when she knew that she was in one of her most vulnerable moments, possibly thinking about her dead mother, and she was so sure that the "phone business" would trigger a confrontation… so she decided to change the topic of the conversation radically, because she needed to concentrate on something else to get rid of the guilt that was beginning to spread inside of her.
- Last night Demetz was in the restaurant. – She said all of a sudden and the brunette felt how Alison stiffened in her arms. – He knows who we are, Ali. He said your name, he knows us. – The blonde remained silent, waiting for Emily to continue. – He wants something.
- What? – She asked with a monotonous voice, perhaps it hadn't been the best way to avoid the previous topic.
- For now, he wants us to go to a party he's preparing at the restaurant, but I'm sure he wants something more.
- You say he knows my name? – She questioned to be sure about what she had heard.
- Yes.
- Then… we are definitely going to that party.
A.N: hey everybody! :) sorry it took me so long to update but these days are crazy with family and meals.
Anyway, I just wanted to say that, for those who read the two versions of this story (the English and the Spanish, though… I don't have idea if someone does that) there are some differences between them in this chapter. I usually change some expressions, even paragraphs, when I translate it because of how they sound in the different languages but in this chapter there are more than a "few changes" (I worked more the English version, to be honest, I made it more cheesy than necessary in some parts but, what can I say? It's Christmas and for me is easier to get cheesy in English than in Spanish so… :S).
As always, thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites, and for keeping up with the story.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter ;)
And also... Merry Christmas to all of you! :)
