Paris Chapter 26

Kon’nichiwa.

Thank you for the six likes on Heartbreak Princess Chapter 59, seven likes on Paris Chapter 25, three likes on Heartbreak Princess Chapter 58, one like on Paris Chapter 24, two likes on Late Night Thoughts on May 26th, 2016, and my eighty-nine followers.

Today’s blogger is @Katherine Givens, Author. Her website link is https://katherinegivenspoet.wordpress.com/

Katherine Givens enjoys walking through forests and fields with her leather bound journals in hand. On her strolls, she often crosses the flight paths of butterflies. She hopes her poems flutter on the wings of these quiet creatures and settles in the hearts of her readers, like a butterfly resting on the petals of a flower.

Katherine’s poems have been published in dozens of magazines, including Tipton Poetry Journal, WestWard Quarterly, Eye on Life Magazine, White Ash Magazine, From the Depths, Nazar Look, Literary Juice, and BuckOff Magazine. Her poems have appeared in two collective chapbooks: one to be released in Summer 2016 with Whistling Shade Press and Unwrapped: The Bareback Anthology (BareBack Press 2013). In November 2015, she released her first poetry collection, entitled Passages of Love: A Collection of Poems (Nazar Look). Currently, she is working on her second collection, Mosaic.

With love forever,

RitWit

Chapter 26

What?”

I suddenly felt light-headed and that there was not enough oxygen in the world. Cassandra Lefebvre died?

Orlando swallowed, looking paler than I’d ever seen him before. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “She told me that she loved me, but that she had to end her life. She wanted to do it through Dignitas and asked me not to be furious with her when she died. Mom asked for my blessing because she couldn’t leave this earth without knowing that I loved her enough that I could let her go for her own happiness because I would have been selfish. I gave it to her. It’s been two years, but it’s not getting easier any day soon.”

“My dad died a year ago,” I said softly. “He had a spinal tumor, and he died at home. In his sleep.”

Orlando nodded, his eyes distant and a bit glassy. “I really loved her and tried to make sure she was happy in her last days. She promised me she was happy.”

I took his hand in mine. He looked startled but relaxed. Kind of.

“I would say she’s in a better place or she had a good life or I’m sorry for your loss, but I know that you’ve heard it way too many times. The only thing I’m going to say is, The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. -Marcus Tullius Cicero.”

 

“You’ve changed,” Orlando said softly.

“We’ve both changed. You’re a famous singer and photographer, and I’m an actress.”

“And model,” Orlando added.

“And model.”

“Starring alongside Sean Campbell.”

I made a face, which caused Orlando to laugh. “What?”

“Don’t remind me. That’s all I hear from Sean.”

“Who’s your ex-boyfriend.”

“We dated a really long time ago when I actually was under the spell of his charms.” I shrugged.

“How’s filming going?”

“For Sean or me?”

“You.”

“Very awkward kissing a previous co-star and ex-boyfriend. Sean loves it though. I barely survive the day.”

“What’s it like being one of the most famous actresses in Hollywood?”

“What’s it like being one of the most famous singers today?”

Was Orlando blushing? “What, is this a press interview?”

I smiled a coy smile at him. “Maybe. Now stop stalling.”

“The same feeling that you have when you’re a famous actress.”

“You have something against giving a straight answer, don’t you?”

Orlando smiled crookedly, and I suddenly had the same nostalgic feeling that I always got whenever I remembered our relationship. The one that lasted one month when I had fallen deeply in love with a twenty-two-year-old man when we were both innocent and normal and not having known loss.

“Orlando-“

“Do you want to go to dinner tonight?” Orlando asked. His piercing green eyes drilled into me, and I felt vulnerable.

“I have to be filming and on set by seven thirty, but sure.”

“We’ll make it fast,” Orlando assured me. Before I could say anything else, Orlando bent down and kissed me on the cheek.

“See you, Miss Juliette Lily Love.” He winked, then vanished while I stood there like an idiot.

 

It takes me even longer to get my outfit perfect.

I shower and dig through my suitcase trying to find the perfect outfit. Should I wear shorts and a tank top? Or should I wear a dress and heels?

I finally settle on a sleeveless white top with thin straps, beige sandals, and a tan high low skirt. I braid my hair in a loose side braid, and carefully do a natural makeup style.

I glance one last time in the mirror, resisting the urge to change my skirt, and leave my hotel room before I can redo my entire outfit.

 

 

How can one guy look so incredibly handsome?

Orlando’s wearing a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and khaki shorts. His hair is messy, tousled to perfection, and he’s holding a bouquet of white peonies.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Orlando bent down, kissed me on the cheek, and handed me the bouquet. “Still a celebrity hot spot, huh?”

I blushed, the blood rushing up to my face faster than I would like to admit. “Hey.” My voice is breathy, but I keep it together. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to the movies,” Orlando said casually. “And I thought we could grab some dinner before you have to start filming.”

I smooth out my face so I don’t look like a crazily enthusiastic person. “Cool. What movie are we watching?”

“Patience, grasshopper. Patience is bitter, but the fruit is sweet.”

“Aristotle.”

 

When Harry Met Sally?”

“With English subtitles.”

“Seriously?”

“We’re in Paris and the movies have Spanish subtitles. Of course, it’s in French!”

That sounded like the Orlando I knew but I can’t help smirking at him. “And I thought you said that you were fluent in French.”

Orlando blushes. “I said simply that I had a French mother. I didn’t say that I was fluent in French.”

“Then how much French do you know?”

He flushed. “I can understand it, but speak enough that I won’t get lost in the streets.”

“Et de penser que votre mère vous a appris quelque chose d’utile pauvre garcon.”

“What?”

“That’s French for And to think that your mother taught you something useful, you poor boy.”

“I’m tragically sorry if I didn’t use Rosetta Stone to learn French.”

“Tut tut, young lad.”

Orlando smirked. “I’m a year older than you, Juliette.”

“Six months to be exact. My dear boy, would it make you feel better if I called you Grandfather?”

“Mademoiselle, it would be my deepest pride and greatest pleasure-“

“You’re quoting Lumiere.”

“Someone knows their Disney.”

“Excuse me,” a middle-aged woman interrupted. She looked like she had eaten a lemon. “Can you lovebirds argue somewhere else?”

I instantly blushed at the words lovebirds, but Orlando did not seem fazed. “Of course, ma’am. It is only customary for lovebirds to argue in Paris, and you must excuse us. Please enjoy your dinner.”

She rolled her eyes and stomped away, muttering, “People these days! How rude. How very rude indeed.”

“Well, you made her day,” I smiled up at Orlando.

“I’m going to have to start calling you Pantalon Little Miss Smarty.”

I translated instantly in my head. “Hey!”

“The name fits you.”

“Little Miss Smarty Pants?”

“Yep.”

“Then I’ll start calling you Monsieur le Prince Charmant qui semble amour à donner Weird and Surnoms Insulter Out Like Candy.”

“That is so not true.”

“But you do love to give weird and insulting nicknames out like candy, Mister Prince Charming Who Seems To Love to Give Weird and Insulting Nicknames Out Like Candy.”

“Hilarious.”

 

 


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