Page 24 of Belle Amour

“What’s so special about that one?” Mirabelle asked after the hostess walked away, curious about his excitement.

“It's a limited edition, Bastian explained as he studied the menu. “Cost’s forty dollars a shot.”

“You're seriously willing to pay eighty dollars for a drink?” Mirabelle raised her eyebrow. She knew Bastian liked expensive things and was more than happy to pay for them, but eighty bucks for a drink was a little much.

“For a Lagavulin 12-yearspecial release.” He corrected her, emphasizing the special release part as if it was supposed to mean something to her. “They’ve definitely over-priced it a little, but it’s worth it.”

“If you say so,” Mirabelle murmured, pulling her menu toward her. They ordered their appetizers to share between them, and Mirabelle filled Bastian in on Francesca’s dislike of places that weren’t New York, Paris, Milan or London.

“Francesca was born and raised in New York, but she modelled until she had Eleanor. So she was either in New York,” Mirabelle waved her hand in a circle as she took a sip of her limoncello.

“Milan, Paris or London.” He finished, chuckling as their main courses came. Mirabelle thoroughly enjoyed herself; the food was delicious, the band was excellent, and she always enjoyed spending time with Bastian. They were waiting to order dessert and enthusiastically cheering and clapping with everyone else as the band finished a set and announced a fifteen-minute break when someone stopped by their table. “Mira?”

Mirabelle recognized the voice and felt a wave of nerves roll over her as she looked up and met the blue eyes and equally nervous face of Eddie’s older sister, Eleanor. Seeing how anxious she was made Mirabelle relax and give her a huge smile. “Eleanor!” She stood up, and Eleanor stepped forward, hugging her tightly. “How are you?”

“I'm all right.” She leaned back and looked Mirabelle over before hugging her again. “Oh, it's so good to see you! Howare you?” Mirabelle found herself swallowing a sudden lump in her throat. She had missed Eddie’s parents a lot, but it was nothing compared to how much she missed Eleanor. An up-and-coming artist, Eleanor was three years older than her and had been one of a few who hadn’t judged Mirabelle for her mother and had immediately taken it upon herself to teach Mirabelle the rules and intricacies of the upper class to help her feel more comfortable amongst Eddie’s family, something Mirabelle would always be grateful for.

“I'm amazing!” She stepped back and gestured to Bastian, who was watching the display between the two women with a delighted smile on his face. “You remember Bastian?” Bastian stood up and held his hand for Eleanor’s, kissing the back when she gave it to him and making her giggle.

“Of course, Bastian is a hard man to forget.”

“Join us for dessert?” Bastian gestured to the chair next to him. “I’m sure you and Mira have a bunch of things to catch up on.”

“Sure!” Eleanor’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and she looked over her shoulder toward the bar. “Robert and I stopped in for a drink and to check out Ann Arbor's nightlife. He's at the bar. I'll grab him.” She scurried off, and Mirabelle looked at Bastian in surprise.

“I’m guessing you don’t mind if they join us,” Bastian asked as he switched seats so he was sitting to Mirabelle’s left instead of across from her. Mirabelle shook her head and smiled at him.

“Of course not. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t know if you were up for company or if you wanted me all to yourself.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

When Eleanor came back, her husband, Robert, was slightly behind her, with one hand on the small of her back as they made their way to the table, their drinks in hand. Robert hugged Maribelle and shook Bastian's hand when Mirabelle introduced them.

“It's wonderful to see you again, Mirabelle.” Robert's deep voice, with its Cajun accent, made both her and Bastian smile as he pulled Eleanor’s seat out for her. Robert’s background wasn’t that different from hers and Bastian’s she knew. He was now a successful architect for a large firm out of New York, but he grew up in the lower middle class in Galliano, which was not that far from New Orleans. “Eleanor insisted on coming over to say hi, but I wasn't sure how you'd feel about having us both dumped on you.”

“I never had an issue with you two. Besides, Eleanor was like eighty percent of the reason I agreed to marry Eddie in the first place.” Mirabelle grinned at him. She was only exaggerating a little. Eddie’s family, Eleanor in particular, played a large part in why she agreed to marry him.

“That is the only reason that makes sense,” Bastian said dryly as the waitress stopped by. Noting Robert was also drinking scotch, he ordered another round for the table but told the waitress to bring Robert what he was drinking and insisted they order dessert on him. Mirabelle suppressed her smile. To an outsider, it might look like Bastian was showing off by throwing his money around, but that wasn’t the case at all. Because he invited them to join them, he felt he should pay so they wouldn’t feel like they were put on the spot. They placed their orders, and Mirabelle noticed that Robert was studying them over the rim of his glass with a faint smirk. She wondered why for a moment and then realized Bastian’s arm was around the back of her chair, and she was leaning toward himunconsciously and instantly knew what he was thinking. She was about to straighten up when she realized that she wanted it to be true.

“So, are you two together now?” Robert asked nonchalantly as he put his glass down

“Yes. Mirabelle smiled and placed her hand on Bastian’s thigh, making him look down at her in surprise. She gave him a gentle squeeze, silently asking him to go along with it.

“Is that news to you, Bast?” Eleanor raised her eyebrow with a grin, her eyes flitting back and forth between them as Mirabelle braced herself for his answer.

“No, we had agreed to keep it to ourselves so we wouldn't cause any more of a fuss than we already were.” Bastian covered for her smoothly, his arm moving from the back of her chair to her shoulders, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

“Yeah, but it's Eleanor and Robert. We can't hide it from them.” Mirabelle gave his thigh a squeeze of thanks and let him go.

“I guess not.” Bastian smiled and leaned in, nuzzling her cheek lovingly. “It’s been twenty-one years in the making, but it’s finally happened, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Mirabelle felt her cheeks heat up at his blatant PDA, knew he was doing it to tease her, and cleared her throat as she changed the subject. “So, how are the blushing bride and groom doing?” She knew Eleanor wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to give her all the dirt, and sure enough, Eleanor lit up at the opportunity to vent and gossip, making Robert chuckle and shake his head.

“Now you've done it.” He muttered as the waitress brought the next round of drinks and their desserts over to them.

“So, you know she's pregnant, right?” Eleanor asked as she picked up her spoon and took a bite of her frozen hazelnut souffle. Mirabelle nodded, smiling at the waitress as she placed a crème brulee in front of her. “Well, the combination of pregnancy hormones and her natural bitchy personality has created a bridezilla that’s caused no less than four bridesmaids to drop out, leaving her scrambling every two or three days to find some poor idiot to fill in. Her Matron of Honor told her one more temper tantrum directed at her, and she would leave the morning of the wedding without telling her, which finally got her to rein it in a little bit.”

“There have been multiple meltdowns about the flowers - that she chose - not matching each other, the bridesmaid dresses – that she also chose and insisted on, despite multiple people telling her it wasn’t going to look like she thought it would, not looking the way she thought it would.” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “The last meltdown was epic, but honestly, I actually felt a little bad for her before she freaked out. She’s the oldest of three sisters; she and the middle sister, Carol, who is also the Matron of Honour, are best friends; they even got pregnant within a month or two of each other, but the youngest, Carla, is a spoiled brat, even more so than Casey, if you can believe it.” Eleanor paused to take a sip of her drink, and Mirabelle shook her head, not believing someone could be more of a spoiled brat than Casey.

“Not possible,” Bastian spoke up, also shaking his head in disbelief.

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