Missing In Paris

Chapter 19

Two bottles of champagne and a lot of commiseration later, it was nearly midnight when Neela crept into the apartment.

She had expected to tiptoe into a darkened living room, but Luc was still wide awake, sitting under the bright lights and reading a book.

She stumbled a bit as she approached him, the effects of the champagne wreaking havoc in her bloodstream.

"Hey...." she said smiling. "How did everything go?"

His eyes didn't leave the page.

"Your family enjoyed the macarons," he offered coldly. "And then they retired for the evening." He snapped the book shut. "So I suppose you could say that everything went well."

Neela may have been more than a little tipsy, but even through the fog she could see that Luc was pissed. She leaned over and gave him a hug that was decidedly one-sided.

"Thank you for everything!" she said, trying to kill his coldness with sincerity. She sat down next to him and studied his face. The hug had accomplished exactly nothing. She sighed. "Luc..."

He avoided her stare. "Is everything okay then?"

She nodded. "I think it's a lot better."

He finally made eye contact, sub-zero as it was. "And what was this emergency all about?"

'Broken heart," she replied, completely unaware that he would find this absurd.

"Really?"

"Yes," she confirmed, still oblivious. "I felt so bad."

He frowned. "But none of your friends are in relationships. Unless you mean Tiff and that younger guy?"

"Oh no," she said shaking her head. "She ditched him; he was being too nice...or something."

"Why is that not the least bit surprising?" He rolled his eyes. "Who was it then?"

Neela did her best to let his flippant remark slide. "It was Dante and that guy Maxime," she explained. "Remember him?"

From his expression it was clear that he was no closer to understanding this alleged emergency. "But...that was never even serious. And didn't they stop seeing each other last year?"

She nodded. "They did, but he kind of came back into the picture. Except...not really. I guess Dante was hanging onto the nostalgia and hoping something would happen." She frowned. "Not that the odds of it were really good..."

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the lateness of the hour, but her explanation for Dante's tragic state wasn't coming out the way she wanted it to.

Luc let out a cold, bitter laugh. "This is...ridiculous!" He shook his head. "I mean you seriously left me alone with your family because of Dante's...nostalgia?"

She moved away from him instantaneously. His reaction was extremely disturbing to her, and it also had the effect of sobering her up fast. "It's not that simple."

He scoffed. "Then something is getting lost in translation."

She scowled. Here we go again. "You know what? Stop acting like a different language is the reason why we always fight. I get along plenty well with other people whose languages I barely know."

"Who says we always fight?"

She smirked. And then sighed. "Okay maybe not always, but you've gotta admit it's a lot more often than we used to."

He admitted to nothing, but he at least uncrossed his arms. "I'm just struggling to understand how someone feeling a little bit sad is a reason to leave me with your family."