Gemma Halliday - Alibi In High Heels

"Felix?" I scrunched up my nose. "Why?"

"Well," Dana said, a frown settling between her strawberry blonde brows. "First the article. Now flowers. I mean, has Ramirez ever sent you flowers?"

I paused. Then shook my head.

"So it has to be Felix."

"But Felix hasn't sent me flowers before either."

"Yeah, but does Ramirez seem like the roses kind of guy?"

I had to admit, she had a point.

"What do you think Felix wants to talk about?" I asked, thinking back to our last interrupted conversation at the show.

Dana shrugged. "Maybe how he's madly in love with you."

"He is not!"

Dana sent me a get real look.

"Okay, so maybe he likes me a little."

"And you like him."

"I do n-"

Dana shot me that look again.

"Okay. Fine. He's a good kisser." I paused, sniffing the roses again. "But so is Ramirez. Very good."

Dana shrugged. "Okay, so maybe Ramirez sent them." She popped a bite of muffin in her mouth.

I absently shoved a piece of croissant in my mouth. "You think?"

Dana nodded. "Sure. He said you needed to talk. I mean, you guys really have unresolved issues."

I nodded. "But then again, so do Felix and I. He was about to tell me something at the show, but he was interrupted."

"Okay, so we're back to Felix again?" Dana asked, the frown increasing.

I shrugged. "Or Ramirez."

"Maddie," she said setting down her spoon and leaning in close. "Who do you want it to be?"

I bit my lip. And stared at her. But I didn't say anything.

Because I had no idea.

The rest of the day moved in slow motion. After Mom and Mrs. R got up we went down to the police station to give Moreau our official statements. Then Jean Luc called, saying my shoes had arrived – most of them minus fingerprint dust – and he was having them sent to the hotel. Marcel called, wanting to know when he'd get his interview, and Ann left a message saying she was booking the next Le Croix photo shoot and could they use my designs? But I couldn't concentrate on any of it. All I could think about was the Eiffel Tower at six o' clock as I watched the time crawl by.

Finally at quarter past five, I threw on a black, form fitting dress with a high neck (to cover my bruises), a short hemline (to give my legs the illusion of length – or at least the one good one) and a low scoop in the back (to make the boys drool). I went heavy on the mascara, light on the eyeliner, and puckered up for a swipe of Raspberry Perfection lip gloss, then pulled my hair up into a flattering French twist. I slipped on one black, strappy, two inch pump, and, while there was nothing I could do to dress Wonder Boot up, I had to admit, I looked pretty damn hot.

On instinct, I grabbed one of the roses from the bouquet to take with me, holding it to my nose as I made my way down the elevators and across the lobby.

I took a cab to the Eiffel Tower, my stomach doing the dancing butterflies thing as my palms grew sweatier the closer we got. As we drove through the city, the sky just starting to turn a dusky pink, the setting sun illuminated the old architecture and captured the light off the fountains spurting along the plazas.

And then I saw it.

The cab rounded a bend and suddenly there it stood in front of me, in all its glory. The Eiffel Tower. I sucked in a breath, the beautiful pink hued sky behind it breathtaking.

By the time the cab pulled up in front, I was lucky I could walk, my stomach was wobbling so badly. I paid my fare with shaky hands and took a ticket, riding the elevator all the way up to the top of the tower. I awkwardly hobbled out on Wonder Boot, taking a spot in the center of the platform, just a little scared to stand too close to the edge this high up.

Though I had to admit, the view was amazing, the entire city of Paris spread out before me, the air clear and cool. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my nerves.

And watched the elevators.

Group after group came up, families with cameras around their necks, students toting backpacks, all speaking a variety of languages. People snapped photos, laughing and pointing down below us. And I stood, twisting my hands together. Two words tumbling over and over in my mind. Ramirez. Felix. Ramirez. Felix. I had no idea who would come off those elevators next.

And then another carriage arrived. The doors slid open. Three teenagers and a family of four from Japan filed out.

And him.

I sucked in a breath, not realizing until that moment just how very badly I'd wanted it to be him. I felt tears well behind my eyes and let out a long breath as he approached.

"Maddie," he said.

I took a deep breath. "Jack."

His dark eyes looked down at me and even though they were rimmed in sleepless circles, they were the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. His stubble covered jaw flexed, some emotion flitting across his face that I couldn't read. But I didn't care. He was here. And that was all that mattered.

"Oh God, Jack, I'm so sorry. I'm so glad you're here, but I'm so sorry about everything. I don't know how I always seem to make such a mess of everything, but I promise, I'm going to be the best girlfriend ever from now on. I just-"

"I can't do this."

I paused mid-sentence. "What?"

His eyes took on a sad look. "Maddie, I asked you to meet me here because I needed to talk to you. I'm sorry, but I just can't do this anymore."

My heart froze. "W-what do you mean you can't…?"

Ramirez shook his head, his dark hair falling across his forehead in a way that made me itch to brush it with my fingertips. Instead, I clasped my hands tightly together around the flower stem, hoping the death grip on the rose would somehow help me get a grip on reality.

"All we do is fight, Maddie. We're butting heads. Me, I'm a straightforward kind of guy. What you see is what you get. And you…" He paused, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if I'll ever figure you out. Hell, you drive me nuts."

I felt tears welling behind my eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to drive you nuts."

"I know," he said, his voice soft. Almost if he didn't want to say the words any more than I wanted to hear them. "I know you don't. But I swear you've taken ten years off my life since I've known you. I don't know how trouble finds you, but it does. I don't want to do this anymore, stay up nights wondering where you are, not knowing if you're safe, if you're in danger, if you're…" He trailed off and I could mentally see the scene at Felix's playing out in his head.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked out again, at a loss for anything else to say.

He took a deep breath, staring out over the roofs of Paris. "I just can't do this anymore. I don't want you to be my girlfriend."

The tears stared blurring my vision and I fought to keep them back. If he was breaking up with me, the last thing I wanted to do was cry and beg for him to stay. I did a loud, unladylike sniff. The sweet scents of roses and the cool Paris air oddly incongruent with the hollow, gnawing feeling in my stomach.

"So, what are you saying, Jack?"

He took another deep breath, his nostrils flaring, his jaw set at a determined angle. Then he turned and looked me squarely in the eye. It wasn't his Bad Cop look. It wasn't his lustful Big Bad Wolf look. Just him and me. It was the most real I had ever seen him. Like suddenly he was letting me in to see the real guy behind everything else.

And then he bent down on one knee.

His hands reached into the pocket of his jacket, and out came a little blue, velvet covered box.

A ring box.

I blinked and I dropped the flower.

My heart stopped beating, my breath doing short little gasps, my eyes going big and round. The tears couldn't be held back any longer, wet lines streaming down my face even as I felt my lips curve up into a smile.