#little martini glass in his prim little fingers

[nico-di-genova]

The difference in their vibes is sending me.

[itskateak]

(Preface: this is a really long post as I typed it as I was watching the movie so this is unedited, pure thoughts as I was watching this movie.)

I just started watching the new Cats movie and I’m already having issues with what’s going on

Why did Munk spider man his way down a wall

What’s wrong with Misto

Why don’t they just crawl on their knees Jesus Christ if they weren’t on their toes it would be better

“Are you mean like a minx” that’s not in pitch

ThatS NOT HOW JUMPING WORKS

The choreography is going good though- I knew it would. I’ve worked with that choreographer before.

WHY IS THIS NOW A POP REMIX

I have so many questions

Music is too fast. Tempos are everywhere.

Singing isn’t too bad. I can understand the words better.

Munk is a little too feminine for my taste at the moment but I like his design.

ROMANTICAL CATS (heart hands) IS THE MOST ON BRAND MISTO THING YET

Macavity speaking and singing his own song is disgusting

WHY DO THEY HAVE HUMAN TOES AND FINGERS

Why is everyone bullying Misto

AND HUMAN NOSES

Munk there’s a rhythm to the Naming of Cats. You can’t go off it whole everyone else is on it.

You guys can’t keep a tempo can you

HIS name. HIS.

Munk that’s a little sexual. NO YOU ARE WITH DEMETER STOP

stop cutting the scene up. Just let them dance.

AH REFERENCE TO ORIGINAL CHOREO. I SAW THAT

Misto is on brand except he’s not Misto yet storytellers

Also I’m liking the idea that Victoria is new to everything and the plot is they’re introducing her to the wild and the whole heaviside layer thing

THATS NOT THE MELODY MUNK STOP

they have human eyebrows too what

Munk that note is too high for you

Is Jenny twerking excuse me

JennY IS SUPPOSED TO BE MOTHERLY STOP THAT

that’s also not the melody

The human mice are going to cause nightmares

Wait is Jenny lusting after Munk

Why does he actually look interested

Munk do you have an English accent or American. Please decide.

Jenny that’s not the right notes

HUMAN ROACHES NO

WHY DO THEH HAVE HUMAN FACES

The skiN UNZIPPED OH NO

no one needed that undershot of cockroach crotches

Mm meow

huh what Tugger what was that

Okay Derulo is not bad at all

I’m missing the Tugoffolees banter though

This Tugger is a little gayer than the original

THE NEUTER JOKE OH MY GOD

Tugger is reminding me of Dr. Frank N Furter from Rocky Horror Picture Show

Why does he have an English accent though

VictoriaaaaAAAAA? (The TOES)

Jenny’s humor is eh. Don’t see the reason of putting that in.

The ending is pure Tugger though

Not a bad rendition

Grizz isn’t as rough as I imagined her looking

Oh her VOICE

HER VOICE HITS HARD

Who is this cat singing about Grizz (the first) her voice was nice

NO. WHY THE SHORTNESS ON “that”

Munk why did you grab that queen’s head

Edward Hyde is that you?

Jenny stop trying to be the comedy relief you’re too awful at it

Bustopher please STOP singing your own song

PLEASE KIDNAP HER IDRIS ELBA

THANK YOU

I wish they spent more time dancing since that’s really the point of the show and the draw to it.

Bustopher wearing heels? I’m for it. Gay legend.

“Thanks Tugger” stop this whole sequence please

Bustopher is supposed to be a very prim and proper cat. What happened to him

Still can’t get over Idris Elba being in this

THATS NOT THE MELODY OF MUNGOJERRIE AND RUMPLETEAZER

What have thEY DONE TO THE MELODY GOOD GOD

AND THE RHYTHM THEY DESTROYED THE SONG

Oh. Hey that’s pretty neat choreo though

“I bought that for her myself” “hey” “what?”

My brain is rebelling because it’s not right at all in anything I remember

Did Misto just pull a whole femur from his hat

STOP THAT. MISTO LOOKS LIKE A CLOSETED TWINK STUCK IN A STRAIGHT RELATIONSHIP

is he wearing eyeliner

GROWLTIGER IS BACK

I don’t actually know his song so this is new to me

Jenny and Bustopher being comedic relief hurts because they’re not funny

Munk “where have you been?!” Is there a love triangle happening. What happened to Demeter

Also his voice in Deuteronomy is actually really nice

“Sits in the suuun” that was beautiful oh god

Deut looks more like how I imagined Grizz would look

IS THAT DAME JUDI DENCH

I bet she regrets ever saying yes after this.

What cat is randomly wearing a crow skull around their neck. Is that a witch’s cat

JUDI DENCH CAN’T YOU ACTUALLY SING? WHY ARE YOU STRUGGLING

Why are you singing Munk’s line

Oh the Jellicle ball is next let’s go Andy show me that awesome choreo

Asparagus are you okay

Tempo doesn’t exist in this movie does it

Neither does rhythm or time keeping

IS THAT MY BOY SKIMBLESHANKS

Twirly boy Munk

Munk really just wants to be topped doesn’t he

WhAT WAS THAT TWITCHING AND THE PANTING

Andy I love you man but the traditional and classic choreo would’ve worked just as fine

Skimble and Munk being gay

what happened to Plato and why is there something going on with Misto

TUGGER YOU HAD A MOMENT YOU COULD HAVE INTERRUPTED

Ah okay I understand why that happened. No mating dance or slumber party

Cats wearing shoes disgusts me more than the toes

POINTE WITHOUT POINTE SHOESSSS GROSS

honestly? Jellicle ball is disappointing. They just cut the ten minutes of amazing dancing down to like four.

I don’t like the heavy breathing. That’s not something that was ever necessary.

Okay, the end worked okay with the big synchronized dances.

I’m ready for this Memory rendition. Already getting chills.

Those are very human hands

Oh keep with the rhythm I beg of you

Ooh altered verse

Wait that’s jennifer Hudson???

Oh we just removed a whole verse, bridge, and chorus didn’t we.

Sweet moment? See I like Vic reaching for Grizz

Vic gets a song??? Ooh intrigued

I like her voice

I’m going to cry this song is sad and I’m glad she gets a story

Though it’s kind of “you think your life is hard? Mine’s worse” feeling after Memory

Awww I’m gonna cry what a sweetheart what a lovely dear protect her

Ugh meaning of happiness. I hate this song no matter who sings it.

Wait what happened to Rumpus Cat song :( the battle of the pekes and the pollicles

What do you mean you’re about to make the choice

We still have Gus’s song, Misto’s song, and Skimble’s song.

They got Ian McKellen to do this?? How much was he paid

“Cross paws” no stop

Why is Gus singing his own song please don’t

Munk’s face bugs me for some reason

His song always makes me cry for some reason but this is kind of goofy and cute and I love it

Misto in the background is just strange for me

Is he forgetting the words sometimes and mumbling to fill in because goodness

Misto’s so eager to please what a bottom

“Macavityyy” I hate it

Munk starting Skimble’s song has the same energy as Tugger doing Misto’s songs

I’m glad they’ve kept this song the same as it was

Skimble is SO gay oh my god what a classic twink

Oooh I like this addition of the train getting started via tap

I’m actually really liking this rendition and the tap dancing on the the rails

Though the tap continuing when no one is tapping or the rhythm being wrong is uh not good

Such an iconic song and I love the changes in scene

Oh skimble that note was not good

WAIT OKAY THAT WAS MACAVITY’S DOING WITH THE LEVITATION

Oh hi Taylor Swift

Use more breath. Stop doing the pop voice thing. Stop it.

Is Bombi a drug dealer

MISTO BEING TWEAKED ON DRUGS IS THE FUNNIEST GODDAMN THING IVE EVER SEEN IN THIS LIFE

I can say though that what they’ve done to the song is exactly the vibes it needed. Sultry and pushing the boundaries.

Sad there’s not a Demeter.

SORRY MUNK WHAT WAS THAT

I actually rewinded to see what happened there with the martini glass

OKAY MAN NEEDS TO BE TOPPED OH MY GOD

“Green house glass is broken” was changed and that makes me sad

This was a good song for Taylor to show off her vocal prowess but she just didn’t

Why is Macavity naked

Why is he singing his own damn song

PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON

Munk you’re still tweaking out a little

Oh here’s the sleeping orgy

What’s with this drama now with the choice thing

We don’t have Munk’s fight with Macavity. Robbed

VICTORIA YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO GET MISTO OUT THERE. IT HAS TO BE TUGGER

If there are no 23 spins, I’ll throw my phone

Munk that’s gay and I’m here for it. Encourage your twink Misto

“Please don’t make me do this” has phantom vibes

Munk that was a lusty look

Where’s the “ooh ahs”

This is weird without Tugger singing it and being an ego for Misto

Tugger come on. Please save this number.

Victoria I swear to god I will beat you

Why do they have one person on the melody in this. And Derulo going through the stratosphere

WHERE IS THE DANCING >:(

That trombone is playing absolutely nothing in the music at all

DON’T YOU DARE KISS HER

oh here’s the fight music

WHY DID WE UNZIP SKIN AGAIN

oh they used the fight music for the escaping of cats

How much longer is there

Oh there’s the daylight reprise thing

I want to die

To the sun, Vic. To the sun.

Munk, Tugger, be respectful. That’s your mother.

Wait that doesn’t work in this universe because Deut is female.

Oh they gave the Asian cat patterns that resemble tiger stripes hmmmm

Why couldn’t they have just filmed an actual stage version and turned that out

Oh that “smile at the old days” was god awful

How much longer oh god

I’m tired man. I wasted 6 bucks on this

Victoria just stealing Jemima’s parts

“Like a flowER as the dawn is breaking”

Okay here it is

OH COME THROUGH QUEEN. WHOLE FILM IS WORTH THIS CLIMAX

Okay so there are some cats wearing clothes and others not. What are the rules for this universe. Are they naked or are they not.

I have not shed a single tear. Usually I have by now from this show. Not a single tear.

Deut X Grizz is still my favorite ship

Is that the intro to Til I Hear You Sing that I hear. Those F to Gm chords Lloyd Webber loves.

Judi Dench stop trying to sing for the love of god.

Ah yes show off that beautiful ballet dancer that plays Vic

Aww Munk bowing to Grizz

Oh so it’s a chandelier this time and not a tire

Where’d Macavity and Bombi go

Oh there he is. What a child. Hate that.

BUSTOPHER CONFIRMED A GAY ICON

Deut being a proud mother to Munk is cute with the hands on the shoulder

Why are we reprising the first song

Also Air balloon.

WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME JUDI DENCH

why are they all staring so intently at her too wait

Munk looks like someone is touching him inappropriately this whole scene.

Munk and Misto looking at each other

MUNK STOPPPP JESUS CHRIST DO YOU NEED TO BE REMOVED FROM THE SITUATION

The choreography doesn’t even match the beat of the song. Huh???

Misto you’re gay stop

Munk and Misto looking at each other and the shy glances away

So Grizz gets hot air balloned to death is that what I’m seeing

Oh it’s over okay

I want to cry.

It’s not as bad as I heard. Once you got used to the way things looked and just let things happen and say it might as well happen, it became a bit more enjoyable.

It’s still god awful though and let’s pray the furries never get ahold of it.

[alexandralyman]

death by chocolate (frozen jewel)

A little bit of Liam/Elsa Frozen Jewel for a Friday night (cough* @lenfaz *cough). No CS in this, it’s a pre-Season One cursed!AU, where Liam and Elsa have both been swept to Storybrooke in the Dark Curse and have no memory of their respective siblings. Elsa owns Any Given Sundae instead of Ingrid and Liam has a little bar down by the docks. 

Rated: T

A brown paper bag was plopped down on top of the bar in front of him and he gave a mock scowl.

“No outside food allowed.”

Elsa leaned forward on her elbows, the end of her long braid falling over her shoulder, “Ice cream’s not food, Liam Jones!”

“Oh,” he asked with a raised brow, still hiding his smile, “Then what is it then?”

Her big blue eyes peered up at him mischievously as she gave a theatrical sigh with one hand pressed to her heart, “Heaven.”

Liam dropped the stern act and grinned back at her, “Oh is it now?” he said, while he pulled out a bottle of lager and opened it, turning to grab a pint glass from the rack and filling it up with ice. He’d long since given up on trying to get Elsa to drink her beer at the proper temperature, for some unfathomable reason she had to have it chilled beyond recognition. It was a bloody crime against nature, but….

“Thanks.”

Her hand brushed his when he handed her the glass, a smile on her face and the little snowflake pendant that she always wore catching the light from where it lay nestled in her modest cleavage.

Who cared about the bloody ice, anyway?

The little bell above the front door rang and he glanced up, feeling his stomach drop at the sight of the two people who had just entered his bar. Elsa turned on her stool to follow his gaze and swiveled back almost at once, shoulders hunching forward and smile disappearing in a flash. Graham Humbert took the tailored wool coat that Regina Mills shrugged off, hanging it up and escorting her to a booth with a hand on the small of her back. Humbert wasn’t wearing his badge clipped to his belt so this wasn’t an official visit, while she had a slash of red lipstick and a tight black dress that looked like it belonged in a chic little bistro in New York City, instead of a nautical-themed dockside pub in Storybrooke, Maine. Liam grabbed the paper bag Elsa had brought off the bar and dropped it in the freezer drawer underneath with the ice cubes before reaching for the flavoured liqueurs with a grimace. He quickly mixed up an appletini and pulled a pint of Guinness (Humbert had good taste when it came to beer, at least), bringing them both on a tray over to the new arrivals. Graham thanked him easily but Regina barely acknowledged him, lifting the martini glass he placed in front of her and taking a prim sip through her red lips without even looking up. Liam liked the easygoing sheriff well enough, but the mayor was a bit of a stuck-up snob and had a tendency to act like everyone in town except her son and Graham were beneath her notice. Plus she was bad for business, out of the corner of his eye he could see Leroy and a few others immediately pack up from their seats and drop some bills on the tables before hightailing it out the door, leaving half-finished beers and uneaten nachos behind. They were probably headed to the Rabbit Hole or Granny’s, it was way too early for them to be done for the night. He sighed inwardly, heading back to the bar and meeting Elsa's sympathetic look. At least she showed no sign of deserting The Crow’s Nest along with the rats. Her tiny smile lifted his spirits, among other parts of his anatomy that were thankfully hidden behind the smooth granite and polished wood that separated them.

Liam knew that most of the townspeople thought Elsa was as cold as the ice cream she sold in her little parlour, Any Given Sundae. She was incredibly beautiful, but she’d never had a boyfriend that he was aware of and that asshole Keith was permanently banned from his bar for loudly and drunkenly calling her “frigid” one night after she’d turned him down for a date. She kept to herself mostly, like he did, eschewing the school fundraisers and the town hall meetings and all the other minutiae of small town life, much to Mayor Mills’s chagrin. But she always had a smile for the children who flocked to her shop in the summer months, addicted to her homemade French Vanilla and Rocky Road. She was just shy, and reserved, kind of an outsider, like him. The Lucases fought like stray dogs practically every day but they were still family, Marco and Archie were best friends, Leroy and his motley crew had worked together for years (decades? sometimes he couldn’t remember just how long he’d lived in Storybrooke) but he had no one to share the load at work and no one to share his small bachelor flat by the water. Elsa also lived alone, her parents, she’d told him once, had both died when she was a child.

And like him, she also had no siblings.

They didn’t talk, at least, not with words, but when Regina Mills snapped her fingers in the air like a disgruntled queen and ordered another appletini Elsa met his gaze and stuck out her tongue with her back safely turned to the imperious Madame Mayor. Liam hid his smile and mixed up the drink, delivering it with a bow before retreating back behind the bar and pouring out a finger (or two) of whiskey for himself. Normally he didn’t drink while he was working, it was bad form, but he’d make an exception tonight. Elsa held up her empty glass and he got another for her as well, pushing back the money she tried to hand to him with a wink and a, “It’s on the house tonight, lass.”

If she was going to ride out Storm Regina with him, the least he could do was buy her a drink.

He lost track of time, something that happened often in Storybrooke, when entire weeks seemed to pass almost without notice and before he knew it another summer had come and gone and he’d made no progress on the old fishing boat he’d been restoring for what felt like forever. The mayor and the sheriff drank, her hand disappearing under the table after the third appletini and Liam poured himself another finger of whiskey in an attempt to ignore just what they were getting up to in his booth. Eventually they left, Humbert was red-faced and wouldn’t meet Liam’s eye as he paid their tab (leaving a healthy tip, at least) while Mills wobbled unsteadily on her skyscraper heels and muttered something about “lowly peasants” under her breath. He was just glad to see the back of them both, bolting the door behind them and flipping the sign from “open” to “closed.”

“Oh, well, if you’re closing early-”

Elsa was halfway off the stool by the time he turned around and his belly lurched at the thought of her leaving too.

“No no, I’m just almost out of apple liqueur and I wouldn’t want to risk the mayor coming back and pulling my liquor license out of spite if she decides she wants another nightcap.”

“Hmm...I don’t think that’s going to happen. They looked pretty, um, eager, to get going.”

Her cheeks tinged as pink as the inside of a seashell while her fingers played with the ends of her braid and he shouldn’t have drunk all that rum because the thoughts that swirled through his head were beginning to drift into dangerous waters.

Steady as she goes, Jones.

“I don’t know who they think they’re fooling,” he said, flipping the towel he’d used to wipe down the table over his shoulder and heading back towards Elsa (the bar, he was heading towards the bar) trying not to notice the way those big blue eyes followed him as he went.

“Yes, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? But I guess they feel like they need to be a bit discreet, it’s a small town, after all, and people talk.”

If people knew that he and Elsa were currently alone in his bar with the door locked and the lights dimmed, the rumours would make it all the way to the town line before noon tomorrow. But Elsa was his friend, probably his only real friend in Storybrooke, and he didn’t want her to be the subject of knowing looks and sly innuendo when she headed down Main Street to open her shop in the morning. Even though he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth, lips pink and slightly parted, and wonder what it would be like to kiss the woman the rest of the town considered the resident ice queen. She picked at the cuff of her light blue cardigan with her slim fingers while he put away the dirty glasses and empty bottles, busying himself with making everything behind the bar shipshape to keep his hands occupied. Liam tossed away a lemon rind and spotted the little scoop he used for ice sitting on the edge of the bar sink. He rinsed it off and went to put it back in the freezer drawer, pulling it open and spying the brown paper bag.

“I almost forgot,” he said, lifting it out, “Your ice cream.”

He couldn’t remember when or how it started, but whenever Elsa was trying out a new flavour she always brought little samples for him to taste before she officially put it on the menu. She made all the ice cream herself, and he was her guinea pig whenever she came across a different recipe for cotton candy (too cloyingly sweet and way too pink) or butter pecan (good) or rum raisin (oddly familiar, in a way he couldn’t quite place) and wanted a second opinion.

She darted a glance towards the door, closed and shuttered against cold sea breezes and gossipy townsfolk. It was late, and he should be a gentleman and offer to escort her home without going past the front door of her little whitewashed cottage, Elsa was his friend and nothing more, he was too old for her anyway and he didn’t plan on staying in Storybrooke forever, once he finally finished restoring his boat then he was going to sell the bar and use the money to move down south, get away from Maine winters and do fishing charters and tours full time. He frequently dreamed of white sails snapping against a blue sky, endless waves of ocean as far as the eye could see. Every time he’d wake up full of resolve not to let another summer go by without making any progress on repairing his little vessel, and yet somehow the days always slipped away like sand through his fingers and the boat never made it into the water. Elsa had plans too, she wanted to go to Italy and learn how to make proper gelato, she wanted to go to Lapland and see the Northern Lights, she wanted to go north and he wanted to go south, they were stuck on opposite ends of the compass and the whiskey had gone straight to his head. So he didn’t say a damn word when she came behind the bar and rummaged around for spoons, her arm brushing his when she stood on her toes and took down two wide-mouthed tumblers from the rack. The ice cream was divided into the makeshift bowls, rich and creamy while a sweet, familiar scent filled the air.

“Chocolate?” he asked, accepting the proffered treat.

“Death by chocolate,” she corrected with mock sterness, “There’s four different kinds mixed in, tell me if you think it’s too much.”

The flavour exploded in his mouth and he made a small sound, dragging the spoon over his tongue and licking every last drop. It was sweet but not too sweet, rich but not overwhelming, it was cold and delicious and he wanted to eat an entire pint.

“Elsa, this is….wow.”

Her face lit up, and despite the chill of the ice cream slipping down his throat he was feeling decidedly warm.

He blamed the whiskey.

He blamed it again when Elsa reached up to clean off a drop of ice cream from the corner of his mouth after he’d tried and failed to wipe it away three times under her directions, “Other side. Lower, lower..no, higher, no, how do you keep missing it? Just here, let me,” and he sucked her thumb into his mouth. The big blue eyes went wide but she didn’t pull back, if anything she swayed even closer while he turned his head and kissed the inside of her palm, nuzzling against it. Her hand was cold from the glass but he didn’t care, and he didn’t care that he was too old for her or that Leroy would have a field day if he ever found out and would probably shout it from the belltower for the whole damn town to hear, he didn’t care that he still owed a favour to Mr. Gold from when he’d first purchased the boat from the pawnbroker and had fallen behind on the payments during a slow period at the bar, and he didn’t care that the best chocolate ice cream he’d ever tasted was currently melting into an uneaten puddle. None of it mattered when Elsa was in his arms, her lips pressed firmly to his. There was a crash of something getting knocked off the counter and falling to the floor but neither of them paid it any mind, he never left the bar anything less than spotless before leaving for his empty flat to sleep alone in his empty bed but now he stepped neatly over the mess with Elsa’s legs hooked around his waist and turned off the light switch on the wall with his elbow.

“Are you sure? Bloody hell, Elsa, are you sure about this?”

Liam pulled back even though he thought it might kill him, he wanted nothing more than to bring her back to his flat and make love to her in his bed with the moonlight dancing over her pale skin until the sun rose over the water, but they’d both been drinking and he couldn’t bear it if she woke up in the morning with any regrets. Taking advantage of her when she was in her cups was the last thing he wanted and he sighed, dropping his head to her shoulder. He wasn’t that sort of man.

“I should take you home. I’m sorry, love.”

He felt a tug in his curls, he usually kept them cropped fairly short but he hadn’t made it to the barber in a while and his hair was longer than he could remember it being for what felt like years. Elsa was still wrapped around him like a barnacle, but her weight was negligible, he was used to hauling around heavy cases of liquor and kegs of beer every night at work. One tiny blonde in his arms was nothing.

It was everything.

There was a faint frown on her lips when he lifted his head and looked up at her, but her eyes were as clear as a winter’s day when the air was crisp and the sun turned the ice into diamonds. There was no drunken fog clouding the blue depths that searched his own face with a crease between her brows until it smoothed out and she gave him a dazzling smile.

“Yes, Liam. You should take me home. I’ve always wanted to see your place, anyway.”

He blinked stupidly at her, unsure if she’d really said what he just thought he’d heard, but then she was kissing him again with the taste of four different kinds of chocolate in her mouth.

Death by chocolate.

Liam Jones had never felt more alive.

(part 2, maybe?)

[mariequitecontrarie]

Love Beyond the Sea: Chap 21

The Fic: Librarian Belle French is a lactose intolerant American, soon-to-be-Canadian, who loathes the French and is terrified to fly. When her fiancé calls from Paris to confess that he’s in love with another woman, Belle decides to fly to France to confront him. On the plane, she meets Luc d’Or, a charming crook who turns her trip—and her life—upside down. Chapter Summary: At last, Belle has dinner with Victor, while Luc distracts Rubie (and himself) in the hotel bar. Rating: PG-13 | Word Count: 3,514 A/N:  It’s been for-freakin’-ever since I updated this story. Last time, we got a little more insight into Rubie, and Ariel pretty much flat out told Belle to face the fact that she’s in love with Luc. Later, Belle and Luc had a little roleplay and dance to help Belle prepare for her makeup dinner with Victor which led to an electric moment. In this chapter, Belle’s confused, Luc’s confused…everyone is just confused. Thanks to my incredible beta @magnoliatattoo and thanks to @rumpledspinster for the pretty banner. {One}  {Two}  {Three}  {Four}  {Five}  {Six}  {Seven}  {Eight}  {Nine}  {Ten}   {Eleven}  {Twelve}  {Thirteen}  {Fourteen}  {Fifteen}  {Sixteen}  {Seventeen} {Eighteen}  {Nineteen}  {Twenty}

READ ON AO3

“Cannes is a little bit like French wine. There are certain years that people prefer over others.” – Rob Lowe

Luc He wanted to get drunk. Very drunk. Mind-numbingly, truth-denyingly drunk.

Luc glared at the mahogany-lined walls of the smoky hotel bar, wishing he could peer through the thick wood into the dining room next door. Rubie Lupis and he were sitting at a cozy corner table, she nursing a glass of champagne while he drowned his frustrations in shots of whisky. He eyed one of the other occupied tables in the center of the room with a view into the hotel restaurant, willing the patrons draped over their martinis to leave. Perhaps he might see Belle if she decided to dance with Victor as he’d advised.

Merde. He was pathetic.

Meeting Rubie for a drink while Belle settled the details of her breakup with Victor had seemed like a good way to be useful, but now he regretted proposing the scheme at all. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest—Belle was using the dinner as an excuse to bring her fiancé back into her arms for good.

He tilted his glass and stared at the amber liquid. “Bon chance, cherie,” he mumbled, throwing back the drink.

“Luc?” Rubie took a dainty sip of champagne and laid a hand on his arm. “You’re angry with Belle.”

He snapped back to attention, forcing a smile. “Angry? Non.”

“Upset then.”

“Why should I be?” He shrugged. “We’ve known each other only a matter of days.”

Rubie’s eyes widened, no doubt at the implication that her own fledgling relationship was on shaky ground. He almost felt sorry for the little homewrecker.

He gulped down another glass of whisky, his fourth in fifteen minutes, and flicked his wrist in the direction of the bar for a refill.

Running a long, painted finger over a meticulously shaped raven eyebrow, Rubie preened in the mirror behind the bar.  Luc bit back a disgusted snort at her obvious display of vanity.

He’d only been half-listening to the girl whine about Victor as he secretly moped over Belle, but it was time to stop wallowing and turn on the charm. Rubie was vexed with her lover. Vulnerable. Insecure. His job was to fan the flame of that anxiety. The irony was that he was the one on edge.

It was driving him insane. Belle was only a few hundred feet away, batting her huge blue eyes at that idiot Whale over a crust of baguette. He balled his hands into fists, wanting to tear into the dining room and beat the other man bloody. That bastard had flown to France, picked up a new fiancée, and broken up with Belle over the phone. Victor Whale didn’t deserve Belle’s devotion.

But who was he to hurl stones?

Wearing an exaggerated moue, Rubie droned on. Luc pasted a polite smile on his face, trying to disguise his annoyance. She was beautiful, there was no denying it, but she was also lacking. There was an emptiness inside her, a soullessness that he recognized all too well. In fact, she was exactly the type of floozy he’d grown accustomed to dating before he’d sworn off women for good. Pouty, pretty, and selfish as hell. Deep grooves of insecurity circled her green eyes. Suddenly he realized what made her so familiar—she was Milah all over again.

“I don’t understand how Victor could do this to me.” Rubie covered the back of his hand with her cool fingers and he shuddered involuntarily. “This never would have happened to me when I was younger. He would be upstairs with me, in my bed, and she would wait all night.”

“Oui, j’imagine.” He nodded sympathetically.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, her eyes big and beseeching.

“Nothing. He’s a waste of your time,” he said on cue.

“No, you’re wrong about that. He’s wonderful. Tender and sweet.” She smiled, her eyes glazing over with a far-off look, then flipped her gaze in the direction of the dining room. “What do you think they’re doing over there?”

“Who cares?” he asked, tossing back another drink.

“I care, and I think we should we find out.”

She stood up and he caught her arm, easing her back into the chair. “No, no, no;  you don’t want to do that.” Luc couldn’t bear to see Belle smiling into Victor’s small, cold eyes. Mon dieu! He couldn’t stop himself from thinking of her. Her softness, the fragrance of her skin, how she swayed in his arms like a sapling, strong yet pliable, yielding to his lead but always standing her own ground.

He snuck a glance at Rubie’s worried expression. Perhaps she really did love Victor. A nagging sense of guilt overcame him, but he quashed it like a bug. What difference did it make what she wanted? Neither of them had considered Belle’s feelings when they’d broken her heart.

He had promised Belle that he would do anything in his power to help her win back Victor. He owed her everything. She could have turned him over to the police for smuggling; she’d had ample opportunity. Instead, she’d helped him to get his vine so he could return to the countryside, buy his land, and make a great wine. Perhaps then, when he was worth something, he could find his way back to his boy.

As for Belle, her destiny was far away from the likes of him.

When she’d been dancing in his arms upstairs, the glow of a Mediterranean sunset reflected in her eyes, he had almost kissed those lush, rosebud lips. He’d nearly fallen to his knees and begged her to break it off with the spineless doctor for good, almost thrown her down on the nearby bed and made love to her until she’d screamed with such pleasure that she couldn’t remember the name Victor Whale. But now wasn’t the time to slake his lust and his ego. Belle had come so far to win back her fiancé. She wanted to marry Victor, longed for the security of a home and family. The right thing to do was to help her find happiness.

He could offer Belle no more than a passing dalliance that would end in certain heartbreak. Besides, his focus needed to be on his vineyard and his son.

Tonight, though, he would settle for getting drunk.

Victor Victor swallowed hard and loosened his tie, shifting in his chair. As an emergency room physician, he typically didn’t cave under pressure. But that was Doctor Whale, the professional. Cool, collected, measuredly compassionate. His personal life was another matter entirely.

He had been so nervous about the prospects of this dinner, the scene Belle might make, that he’d taken a sleeping pill this afternoon and passed out in the hotel room. Rubie was irritated with him when he woke up and rushed out the door—he was running late for dinner. Soothing her would have to wait until after he settled things with Belle.

Belle. They hadn’t been alone together since his drunken breakup call, and that didn’t technically count since he’d ended their engagement from 6,000 kilometers away. When they’d sat down at the cozy bistro table, he’d hardened his jaw, expecting her to wheedle and coerce him to come home. He’d been fully prepared to fake a medical emergency. Instead he found himself wanting to linger, to prolong their last meal together.

She shone in a blue dress with her hair swept off her neck, her collarbone glowing with diamonds. This sparkling, ethereal creature wasn’t his Belle. The Belle French he knew was reliable, dependable, practical. And safe.

Belle was, well…Belle. A woman he once loved. Or loves? He wasn’t sure what to feel anymore.

This vibrant, glorious version of her was completely disinterested in him, and he didn’t know what to think. Since she’d come to Cannes, she’d changed her style, her hair, everything. She was light, carefree, and happy.

Victor swallowed past the lump of regret lodged in his throat, trying to get her to meet his gaze. Did she have d’Or to thank for the sparkle in her eyes? He wished she would look at him, but she was studiously checking their belongings off on a laundry list of items. Always the librarian—prim and organized. At least that hadn’t changed.

“You’ll keep the bonsai. The lamp we bought in New York is mine. The books will be tough, though. Why don’t you just let me keep the books?” she asked, checking another box.

“Whatever you want,” he said. She could have everything, for all he cared. Dividing the details of their life into columns labeled ‘His’ and ‘Hers’ felt mercenary, and he started to sweat.

“Victor, are you all right?” She looked up from her list, her eyes narrowed. ”Your eye is twitching.”

“Can we not talk about this? It’s so depressing.”

“Well, it’s business.” She propped her elbows on the table and chewed on the end of her pen. “This is the business of breaking up. You know, if you can’t handle it, I can have a yard sale and wire you half the cash.”

“You must hate me.” He picked up a crust of bread, crumbling it in his fingers.

“No, I don’t.” She looked down at her checklist again.

“You don’t hate me?” he pressed.

“Well, I did, Victor, but now…no.” She smiled brightly.

He stiffened at the reminder. Now she had d’Or to help her forget.

“Belle…”

“What?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” He sighed. “I just feel so guilty.”

“Don’t feel guilty.” She set down the clipboard, pinning him with earnest blue eyes. “Because then I’ll feel guilty that I made you feel guilty. And…” She stopped midsentence, shaking her head. “No, you know what? That was the old Belle. Go ahead and feel guilty. Swim in it, till your fingers get all wrinkly.”

He chuckled. “You’re amazing. You really are.” His focus shifted to the dance floor where couples were swaying to “Dream a Little Dream of Me.”

Say "nighty night" and kiss me, Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me, While I'm alone and blue as can be, Dream a little dream of me.

Had she been missing him and dreaming of their life together, as the song suggested? If they were home in Toronto, they would order her favorite pizza with no cheese and spoon on the sofa, watching Seinfeld reruns until they fell asleep. They weren’t, though. They were here, in France - together, the way they should have been all along. Of course that was what Belle wanted. Why else was she here?

“I know you’re with Luc now, but what do you say to one last dance? For old times’ sake.” Reaching across the table, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Come on.” Rubie Rubie studied her companion openly, drawing her gaze down the long, tanned column of his throat. He was a handsome one, she thought, this Luc d’Or. Dark and charming, with a hint of sophistication. But he was a Frenchman, and that spelled trouble. All her worst relationships had been with other French guys. Still, she wouldn’t mind if he kissed her, or took her to bed.

Rubie tossed her head. Belle was probably digging her claws back into Victor as they spoke, and he, weak-willed man that he was, would allow it. Men were fragile, egotistical creatures.

“Tell me more about Belle. Are you two very happy together?” she prompted, trying not to sound too eager.

“Eh, we have a good time, you know.” His long fingers mimicked the motions of intercourse.

Rubie frowned. She hadn’t expected the little bookworm to be good at sex. “Sexual compatibility is important.”

“Oui.”

Rubie pressed her lips together, wishing Luc would be more forthcoming. She wanted to question him about Victor’s love life with Belle, but she didn’t want to look like a fool or to appear threatened. No, asking too much would be giving away too much. She busied herself with watching her engagement ring sparkle and reflect in the mirror as she waited for him to say something, anything.

In the glass, she saw a table with a view to the dining room open, and rose. “Let’s sit over there. The lighting is better,” she lied.

Luc shrugged again and moved to follow her. “As you wish.”

She made a show of crossing her legs as they settled at the new table with fresh drinks.

“Victor was obviously looking for something…more,” she observed, testing the waters. “Something Belle couldn’t give him, maybe?”

Luc rolled his eyes and blew out a loud breath.

“What? Have I offended you?” she asked wryly.

He barked a laugh, startling her. “Non. Je ne comprends pas. Help me understand. Why would a woman like you want him?” His gaze was appreciative as his eyes ran up and down her curves, warming her body and soothing the sting of Victor’s rejection. “You could have any man you set your sights on.”

“Do you think so?” she asked, giving him her best flirtatious smile.

“Plein de poisson, n’est pas?”

She laughed, delighted by Luc’s dry humor. Victor was never funny.

“Oui, many fish in the sea.” She shifted her chair closer, then put her hand on his knee, tapping lightly with her nails.

Luc downed another drink, his bleary eyes focused on the entrance to the dining room.

Ruby followed his sight line until she spied Victor, speaking animatedly with his former paramour. The smile he gave her was tender and loving, and their hands lay entwined in the center of the table, fingers laced together for all to see.  

Jealousy reared up, biter and ugly. Fine. If he could forget about her, she could forget about him. At least for a while. It was time to up the stakes.

“You invited me here tonight, Monsieur. And now that you have me here,” she squeezed his firm thigh, “what are you going to do with me?”

“I think you know,” he said, his eyes burning.

Whether it was lust or anger fueling that fire, she didn’t know and didn’t care. She licked her lips in invitation. “Why don’t we go upstairs to my room?”

Belle “Belle? Belle, look at me,” Victor said.

She studied the clipboard she’d borrowed from the hotel desk. She didn’t want to look at him; she wanted to keep checking off boxes. She just had to plow through this meeting and this list without overthinking.

Displaying a bravado she didn’t feel, she asked, “What do you think about the couch? Would it be madness to take a chainsaw and cut down the middle to make two, huge, overstuffed chairs?”

“Belle, seriously, enough with the division of property. Dance with me.” He rose and held out a hand, that boyish glint she’d always loved in his eyes.

Her stomach flipped over and she twisted her fingers in her napkin. This was the moment she’d been building toward for days—ever since she’d boarded that airplane. Now that it was here, and Victor was looking at her the way he used to, everything felt…strange. Pushing aside her doubts, she plastered a sunny smile on her face and accepted his hand. “Why not?”

They strolled to the dance floor like they had countless times before. On autopilot, she stepped into his arms and moved with him to the music the way they always did. Dancing with a familiar partner was like riding a bicycle around your block. Safe, comfortable, and one never forgot how.

He drew her closer, splaying a hand across her bare back. His voice husky, he murmured in her ear. “You seem so different. But the same. Like someone turned a light on inside you. Why wasn’t it me?”

Tears stung her eyes and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was overwhelmed by the events of the past several days, and being in his arms was making her weepy. Yes, that had to be it.

The arm around her back pressed tighter, and he led her out to a quiet terrace that overlooked the sea.

“Belle, don’t cry. I’m sorry for everything. If only I’d brought you with me—insisted on you being in Paris by my side—none of this would have happened,” he crooned.

When he moved his lips over hers, she acquiesced. The kiss was friendly yet awkward, like meeting an old friend she’d lost touch with—ill-fitting, but after so many years invested, it seemed a waste to let it all go.

Now wasn’t the time to back away, not when victory was so close.

She closed her eyes tighter and kissed him again. But it was no use. She stepped back, breaking the kiss, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“None of this would have happened?” she echoed. “What do you mean by that?”

Victor looked at her, surprised confusion written across his once-dear features.

“Why wasn’t it you who turned on the light?” Belle asked in an angry whisper, choking on tears. “The bright shining Belle light that burns so bright now that you can’t resist dumping your new girlfriend for your old one!”

Belle studied him, waiting for a response. Sometime in the past few days, she had stopped fantasizing about Victor’s cool blue eyes and his straight, perfect nose. His image had melted away, replaced by shaggy brown hair, sardonic chocolate eyes, and an adorably crooked nose. Luc. He filled her thoughts, fueled her dreams. Nothing about the man standing in front of her was anything she wanted anymore.

“What are you talking about?” he sputtered. Didn’t you come here for me?”

She snorted. “Yesterday, all you wanted was Rubie.”

“Rubie is wonderful; exciting. And when I met her, I wasn’t thinking. Sometimes you don’t think. You just do what you’re feeling.”

“Go on.”

“Maybe I was afraid of where we were headed. I was afraid of getting married,” he explained, moving in for another kiss.

“Bullshit.” Belle ducked away.

“Bullshit?”

“That’s right, bullshit. You weren’t afraid of getting married to her!” Belle took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have to chase you halfway around the world to make sure this ‘wouldn’t have happened’! Looking over your shoulder to make sure you’re not flinging up the skirts of every tart that happens by!

“You know, no matter what I might seem like tonight, it’s still the same old me from yesterday that you wake up with tomorrow. The same old me, who wants a home and a family, who wants to plant some seeds and see them grow.”

“Like a garden?”

She glared at him, then softened. A lot of aspects of this situation were Victor’s fault, but her blindness wasn’t one of them. “No…yes.” She wanted Luc. A life with him, his son. Whatever that looked like, whether it was a flat in Paris or a vineyard in Provence, she wanted to be with him.  

“There’s just one thing I don’t want anymore,” she said.

“Me.”

“It’s over, Victor. I’m sorry." She stepped out of his reach. "We walked the same path once, but somewhere along the way, we started wanting different lives.”

“I know,” he said, his nod sheepish. “You’re right.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Goodbye, Victor. I hope you and Rubie will be happy together.” The farewell smile she offered was wistful, but she wasn’t sad. The only emotion she felt regarding Victor was relief. That, and a newfound confidence that she was making the right decision.

What a fool she had been. Victor, and the life she thought she wanted, was the whole reason she had forced herself to get on that plane. Pride had gotten in the way. She’d been so hell-bent on not losing him to another woman that she’d missed the fact that she’d fallen in love with another man. Now she realized the truth: while she had been chasing her past, fate had stepped in and guided her toward her future.

She only hoped it wasn’t too late to tell Luc that she loved him.

Belle hurried out of the dining room, weaving through the tables, desperate to get back to the scene of his rendezvous with Rubie. A few patrons dotted the bar, but Luc and Rubie were not among them. She scoured the lobby and the annexes, but Luc was nowhere to be found.

Had they left together?

Dread churned in her gut. All of her planning, scheming, and stubborn determination to win Victor back may have sent her true love catapulting into another woman’s arms.

Dashing tears from her eyes, she hurried back to the room she was sharing with Luc, but it, too, was cold and vacant. She thought about seeking out Ariel for comfort, but she couldn’t bear to hear any more I-told-you-sos.

Collapsing on the bed, she stared at the ceiling, waiting for Luc’s return, until she fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep.

###

Up Next:  The morning after, and Belle and Victor head to Cartier to sell the diamonds.