Perfectly Imperfect 1

EPILOGUE: Would It Be Happily-Never-After? Or Would It Be Perfectly Imperfect?

The airport was crowded, filled with kids in winter jackets running around, harassed looking parents, lovey-dovey couples, and the occasional preacher claiming that the world was going to end tomorrow. But Elle Kayla Thomas wasn't really paying attention to all the fuss around her. Barely even sparing a glance at the twin babies clad in matching blue outfits, she strode towards the entrance of the Paris-Orly Airport, her hand-carry luggage swinging from her arms. Two teenage guys ogled her as she waltzed by, a blur of brown hair and white trench coat, but Kayla was either ignoring them, or just couldn't be bothered to return the favour.

Slightly out of breath, Kayla hailed an airport taxi and gracefully climbed in the back seat, exhaling in relief.

"Tu travailles avec qui?" the balding taxi driver asked, raising his eyebrows at the pretty young lady's reflection on his rear view mirror.

Kayla hesitated- it was the first time she was suddenly unsure since she had left Warwick this morning. Then, clearing her throat, she braced herself.

"The Novotel Hotel, please."

The taxi driver raised his eyebrows again.

"American?" he asked, in a French accent.

Kayla bit her lip.

"Something like that," she whispered.

---

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cafferty. Here is the key to your suite. Have a wonderful day," the receptionist smiled, as he handed over the access card to a man with blond hair, who's delicate facial structures betrayed him to be a son of some old, aristocratic family.

Mr. Cafferty's lips turned upwards, although his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Taking the keys, he headed to the elevator, exhaling loudly when the doors closed, leaving him alone in the moving box. Closing his eyes, he massaged his temples with his fingers, trying to rid himself of the throbbing headache he was having. The moment the doors slid open, he turned right, stopping in front of the Eiffel Suite, before inserting his key card into the door.

He didn't even glance at the luxurious surroundings, having probably being accustomed to staying in suites all his life. Throwing the first door open, he headed straight to the centre of the room and crashed on the King-sized bed, his eyes fluttering close.

---

Elle Kayla Thomas paced the length of her hotel room, occasionally casting nervous glances at the Eiffel Tower standing in front of her hotel room, some blocks away. All the confidence she had had this afternoon seemed to have dissipated, and she now had the air of someone uncertain about life. For the umpteenth time, Kayla straightened a low-cut red dress that she had paired with black leggings for some reason. Her shoulder-length hair was wavy- the product of a whole evening with a curling iron, and her eyes were smoldered with dark eyeshadow.

"An unexpected hail in Conneticut, United States, has forced hundreds of flights leaving the state to be-"

Huffing, Kayla rolled her eyes and pressed the remote control, effectively turning off the television. Then, she started muttering to herself, her iPhone 5 tight in her grasp.