The Greatest Thing

How Wonderful Life Is

Estelle spent the next couple of days writing letters to send ahead to Annalise so that they could fool her father. She loved to watch Christian work away at his typewriter while she did this. The way his brow would crinkle as he searched for the right word or the way he scrunched his nose when something didn't sound right made her smile. Oh, how she had missed that face. When he wasn't writing, he was at rehearsal. At first, she had been hesitant to go along with him, due to the stares that she would get from some of the performers, but as she got to know them better she was more comfortable with them. She'd swap stories with them about Poppy and life on Grub Street, and in return, they taught her some romantic phrases in French that always seemed to make Christian blush.

One day, she was pulled aside by the owner of the Moulin while they were rehearsing.

"Mademoiselle, I don't know how to accurately thank you," he murmured.

"Thank me?" she asked in confusion, "Whatever for?"

"I was beginning to lose hope about this production," he explained, "He was having such a hard time writing it that I worried it would never get done. We've revamped the entire building for this. I couldn't afford for it not to happen. But now, since you've shown up, it might actually happen."

Estelle blushed, "Yes, well, you can count on Christian."

"Non, ma petite. I can count on you," he winked before leaving.

"It's true," a voice said from behind her.

Estelle turned to see another one of the performers, Nini, standing behind her.

"For all her feminine wiles," Nini said with an eye roll, "Satine couldn't get him to focus. Everyone wants a writer to write them sonnets and go on with all the bullshit about how they love them and can't imagine a world without them, but she just made the mistake of picking a taken writer."

"I can assure you that Christian was not taken," Estelle replied.

"Not with her," Nini corrected, "He was still taken with you. You should've seen him moping around here like a lost puppy when the novelty wore off and the homesickness came in. He was going on and on about how he never knew it was possible to be homesick for a person. Quite pathetic, if you ask me, but a less realistic woman would call it sweet I suppose."

"I suppose," Estelle said with a small smile.

"Have you seen much of Paris since you got here?" Nini asked, leaning on the balcony next to Estelle.

"Regrettably, no. We've spent so much time up in his apartment working on the play," Estelle replied.

"Is that what you're calling it?" Nini teased.

"Oh, no, we haven't... I-I mean," Estelle started to stammer.

"But you want to," Nini winked.

"It would ruin my reputation," Estelle sighed.

"Honey, if you're hiding here, your reputation is already in question," Nini laughed. "But... Paris is the city of love. Perhaps you should take advantage of that."

"How do you suggest I do that?" she asked.

"Take him to the Eiffel Tower. It's quite beautiful at night. You can see the city in a new way... and maybe he'll see you in a different light, too," Nini said pointedly.

Estelle blushed, "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're sweet, he's sweet, it's a good match," she smiled before dropping her voice and looking down at where Satine was on the stage below, "Besides... it's nice to see her not always get everything she wants."