It Started in Paris

Epilogue

Their love story didn't go that fast, silly!

After three years of being a fiancée to the most legitimate guy in the world, we learned more about each other that we've never discovered before.  Like, he blinks every time he swears, he rubs his hand at the back of his neck when he's nervous, he runs a hand through his hair when he's frustrated--two hands if he's extra frustrated--he works for The New York Times, and he started shaving every week ever since that day I called him Arrogant Monkey.

Jean Hughe

Born: February 15, 1928

Died: December 28, 2011

Jack and I brought Margaret to Paris to finally see her mother.  While Margaret spent time with Adela, Jack and I stood before Jean's gravestone beside Helen's.  Even without seeing their faces, I could feel their happiness in the atmosphere that they're finally together and nothing can separate them anymore.

Jack and I decided to get married in New York once we get back.  We have been through stressful preparations for eight months now and two weeks from now, I'll be walking on that aisle to the altar.

After the trip from Paris, we came back to New York without Margaret.  She wanted to extend her stay a little bit longer.  She promised to come back in time to attend my wedding with Adela.  Last week, I made my weekly visit to my parents and for the first time after a long time, I found Claire sitting by the couch, catching up with mom and dad.

Everyone looked up.

"Oh, and here's my little Lauren, all grown up now," Dad stood up and gave me a hug.

"Lauren," Claire's voice boomed as if she was going to come and trouble me.  There was silence in the room as she got to her feet.  I could feel Jack's protective hand around my waist.

"It's okay," I whispered.

His tense hand softened as he put his guard down.

Claire stood right in front of me, looking right through my eyes.  Words rushed through her mouth as though she couldn't bear the thought of apologizing.  "I'm sorry for everything.  For all the things I did to you from start to finish.  I--"

I waited for her to continue.

Then, she softened.  "Can I give you a hug?" she opened her arms uncertainly.

Without hesitation, I pulled her in and gave her a warm embrace.

"I can't believe how good I'm feeling right now," her voice was shaky as though to cry.

Duh.  She's my maid of honor.

Then, of course, there's Veronica Beckham.  Ever since that day Jack proposed to me in front of everybody, she never insulted me again.  We became good friends and most of the time, me , Leila and Veronica would go shopping and spa together.  Of course, she's one of my bride's maids.

Dylan accidentally spilled his own beans when Leila was standing at the back of the studio while Jack and I had our photos shot for Veronica's fashion article.  I asked him questions about Leila and he kept on answering, totally oblivious that Leila was hearing everything he says.

"Do you still have a crush on Leila?" I asked him as Jack and I strike a pose.  Our bodies against each other, with one hand on his chest.

Jack wore a crisp white shirt, a loosened tie, black pants and shiny leather shoes.  The stylist matched his clothes with mine: loose silver top paired with black skorts plus, shiny black pumps.

"I've had an eye on her ever since," Dylan said as he snapped his camera.

"Why don't you tell her?"

He stood up straight as he put his camera down to his chest.  "I don't know.  I guess I'm just afraid."

"Afraid of what?" I asked as Jack and I shifted to another pose.

Jack sat on the wicket ball chair and gently pulled me to sit on his lap as Dylan told us to do so.

Dylan bent and was ready to snap as he spoke.  "Well, I just don't want hurt her.  I just can't--" he stood up straight in frustration.  "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life.  I wanted to get into a serious relationship and you know..." he turned to change his camera when he caught sight of Leila leaning back on the table in a leopard bodycon and black pumps.

"You were saying?" Leila said.

"Leila," Dylan said, aghast.

Leila held his shirt in her fist as though to threaten Dylan in a fight.  "You don't think I'm to be taken serious?"

"No, no, no, it's not that, I, I, I--"

"What?" Leila's voice echoed sternly in the studio.  Some of the crews tried to held back their laughter.

"I just fell," Dylan managed to say.  "I didn't want to get hurt so, I, I, I didn't want to try being with--"

"Me?" Leila finished his sentence off.

Dylan shakily nodded.

Leila pulled Dylan and challengingly kissed him.  She pushed him away with her fist that was still gripping his shirt.  "Try me."

Leila's get up absolutely blew me away.  In fact, it stunned everyone in the room.  I didn't expect her to give boy-next-door-slash-heartbreaker Dylan a blow like that.

Well, a good tale eventually has an ending.  Tomorrow is the big day.  My eyes won't shut just yet.  It's already ten in the evening and Leila and I are lying on the white hotel bed.  She told me to sleep at eight so that the makeup artist won't have a hard time concealing my eye bags.  I guess she'll kill me tomorrow for disobeying her.  Though, I wonder if Jack is thinking of me, too...