Once Upon a Wish (Destined for Love: Europe)

by Danyelle Ferguson

  “Thank you for coming to the exhibit,” he said, giving in and reaching up to twirl one of the curls with a finger. They felt like silk threads as the locks slid over his skin. Her head tilted toward him as his fingers skimmed over her cheek, relishing the softness. He wished he could continue the trail past her ear and down her neck, maybe sink his fingers into her hair where it was twisted in the back. Instead he retreated, keeping himself in check. It was, after all, still their first date.

  “I had a wonderful evening,” Delphine said, her cheeks flushed a gentle pink.

  “Me, too. I hope your writing goes well over the next few days. I’m looking forward to our date to the discothèque.”

  Delphine groaned. “I’ll definitely be holed up the next few days, but you’re welcome to text me. I tend to leave my phone on silent and randomly check it during the day when I take stretching breaks.”

  He wriggled his eyebrows. “In that case, may our phones become the best of friends.”

  She laughed, which Hugo must’ve heard, because he began barking on the other side of the door.

  “I better go before he wakes the neighbors,” she said.

  “Of course. Bon nuit,” he said, placing his hand at her waist, then leaning in.

  She gripped his arm, her eyes never leaving his face.

  Oh, how he wanted to place his lips on hers, to linger there for just a breath. Instead he placed a soft kiss to her cheek, her curls brushing against his face. Her lips brushed his cheek, returning the kiss. Just that simple exchange had his heart jumping, thumping against his chest. He pulled back, taking her hand from his arm and placing a kiss on her inner-wrist, feeling her pulse thrumming fast like his.

  Her beautiful brown eyes were round and soft as she whispered goodnight and slipped inside.

  All of the warmth from the moment before swooshed and left the hallway empty and lonely. Jean-Paul rubbed his hand on his chest, just over his heart. Had she captured that piece of him already?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Friday, September 29th

  DELPHINE PUSHED AWAY from her desk. She needed to a break from Candessa and Felix. The two just were not cooperating with her plan for their story, the little brats. There was something she missed, something essential to their story that needed to be changed. If only she could figure out what that something was sooner rather than later. Most certainly it needed to be before she threw her laptop across the room.

  “Hugo,” she called, waking him up from his spot on the couch where he was napping. “Who wants to play?”

  His little tail wagged like crazy as he jumped down and darted to his stuffed animal of the week. As they played tug of war, she noted the poor stuffed giraffe had already lost an ear and a leg. She was pretty sure today was going to be the day Hugo ripped the body apart and gutted out all the stuffing, making the living room look like a mini-snowstorm invaded it. When Hugo allowed her to win the tug of war, he hunched down and growled until she threw it across the room for him to fetch, then he proudly returned to start the game all over again. After they were both sufficiently played out, Delphine grabbed her phone to check her messages.

  She smiled when she saw a photo message from Jean-Paul. He had been exploring bits of La Rochelle each day and sending her pics of his discoveries. Today he was in the area near the port. She clicked on his text, then laughed when she saw his message and accompanying pictures of the Lectores statue.

  Freakiest wall of writers I’ve ever seen. I hope they don’t cast you in bronze like this.

  She tapped on the reply box, her thumbs doing their magic on the tiny keyboard before sending back a reply.

  It’s actually a wall of readers, so beware. They may be looking for their next victim to immortalize.

  She scrolled to her next message, which was from her editor Michel.

  The buying committee loved your book pitch. They want to know dates so they can set a production schedule.

  Delphine rubbed her chest, anxiety rushing through her. Dates, hard-core deadlines that were more than just pushing through the rough draft. She consulted the wall calendar in the kitchen, flipping through the months, trying to figure out realistic time frames.

  She needed to get through this first draft, then another round of rewrites before she sent it on to her alpha readers, so that put her at the end of October. Then another round of rewrites before the manuscript would go to her beta readers at the end of November. With it being the holidays, she wouldn’t get the manuscript back until January. Those rewrites shouldn’t be as time intensive, so she could get that manuscript to the professional editor she hired to rip her manuscript to shreds around mid-January. That round of editing was always killer, so she probably wouldn’t be done with it until March. And then she’d have one final set of fresh eyes to make sure she hadn't messed up anyone’s names and that the story still flowed smoothly.

  She felt confident about a mid-to-end of April time frame for Michel to receive the manuscript. From that point, he would schedule all the publisher in-house editing rounds and actual publication details.

  She rubbed her chest again, letting out a heavy sigh. The actual planning of all the work that went into a novel exhausted her. Sometimes she missed the days when she simply wrote to fulfill her own creative desires.

  She clicked on Michel’s text and replied with her own tentative date for when the manuscript should arrive in his email box.

  Another message from Jean-Paul popped up.

  How’s Candessa treating you today?

  His question brought a smile to her face. She discovered that she could chat with him about her characters and Jean-Paul didn’t think it odd that the imaginary people in her head were real to her, battling for her time to create their stories.

  She’s being a feisty chick. Not getting along with Felix at all. My hands are getting tired from all the deleting and rewriting.

  She clicked send, and a message from Michel came through.

  If there’s any way to bump that turn-in date to the beginning of March, that would be ideal.

  Grrr. Ideal for him sure, she thought, her hand coming up to rub away the anxiety again. She loved her editor and knew he’d work with her on the time frame, but still . . . stress!

  Her phone vibrated and a message from Jean-Paul popped up.

  My hands would be happy to come over and give a massage to your hands.

  That sounded divine. Her phone vibrated again just as she tapped out a quick response and hit send.

  Perhaps our hands should schedule a date. Mine quite miss yours. *winky face*

  Her phone vibrated again. This time it was a picture from Jean-Paul of the Tour de la Lanterne. She always thought it was the weirdest tower at the port with its funky pointed dome. It always reminded her of those ugly paper party hats.

  Check out this tower. It’s almost looks like a rocket ship, don’t you think?

  A message came through from Michel again. He must really want to talk more about the book deadline, she thought. She tapped on the message.

  I had no idea our hands had become so intimately acquainted. Should I let Bernice in on our secret?

  What the? She scrolled up. No. Oh no, no, no.

  She had sent the text for Jean-Paul to her editor!

  Um, sheesh, what did she say now?

  Sorry about that, she typed. Wrong recipient.

  Seriously, what else could she say? She was mortified. While Michel had tried to pry into her personal life on her last visit—and yes, Bernice was a masterful accomplice on that count—she generally kept things fairly professional between them.

  And what did Jean-Paul think about her not responding? She quickly copied and pasted the original message and sent it to the correct person, then silenced her phone and set it aside. She’d look at it again on her next break. She needed some distance from all the embarrassment.

  “All right, Candessa, let’s get this worked out.”

  Delphine sat down at the computer and opened a blan
k document. She needed to do some free range brainstorming to figure out where the story was going wrong.

  She began typing, starting with the characters. But she felt like they were well developed and not the problem, so she moved onto the conflicts, putting her thoughts on the screen. Most of the conflicts were spot on, but a few were falling flat. Why? What wasn’t working? As she continued writing her thoughts out, she came to the setting. She had set their location in futuristic New York City, where technology was the king and only the elite of the elite lived. As she worked her way through it, the picture of the Tour de la Lanterne popped into her head.

  She paused, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbling at it. The tower did have some rocket-like similarities to it, even with its ancient history.

  What if . . .

  What if a scientist long ago was centuries ahead of his time? What if he built a secret lower level of the tower with rocket capabilities to be developed in the future? And what if it was abandoned and forgotten about until a dystopian society discovered the plans, developed the capabilities, and was now forced to use the rocket as a means for the elite to escape a planet they thought was dying?

  Her mind spun and whirled with the possibilities as she brainstormed and developed the new setting. It was refreshing to develop the story in a city she loved rather than one she thought would appeal to her readers. Suddenly, the story had new life. It was coming together in a way she least expected. Thank goodness for Jean-Paul and his fresh perspective. She couldn’t wait to tell him about this new twist in her story development.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Monday, October 2nd

  JEAN-PAUL MADE SOME final adjustments to Delphine’s website, then clicked to test all the links, pages, and interactive elements until he was satisfied it all came together in a way that drew in her fans.

  He pulled out his phone and went to the server link to also test out the compatibility for phone screens and to make sure the website kept its clean look and remained easy to navigate. Once he was happy with the results, he put together an email for Delphine with the links and a document he'd prepared to show samples of how he could customize her social media pages and newsletter headers to make her brand cohesive. Nothing was live, just sitting on his company’s server waiting for feedback and approvals. He doubled checked the email’s info, making sure he attached the correct document, then sent it off.

  He picked up his phone and sent a text to Delphine to let her know the email was ready for her whenever she decided to take a break from work. He set his phone aside and moved on to his next to-do item. Rising from his desk, he went to the front office area.

  “Helena, have we had any replies about the marketing packets we sent out to the local yacht clubs?”

  “Non, Monsieur Chassériau.”

  “It’s been ten days, so even slow post should have arrived by now. Why don’t you take the next few days to make follow up phone calls?”

  “Of course,” she said, pulling out her ever-handy notepad where she kept her lists. “I can also begin prepping the next round of marketing packets, if you let me know which group of businesses you’d like me to focus on.”

  “Let’s go with the tourism locations. I believe there’s a folder with specs on the marketing drive you can use. Let me know when you have a sample packet ready. Merci, Helena.”

  His secretary nodded, jotted down a quick note, then turned to her computer to work her own brand of magic.

  Jean-Paul returned to his office, determined to make his way through the slush pile of emails. He pulled up the office email program. He was able to skim over and archive several emails from the new marketing reps handling his previous clients from Nantes. It was good to see their projects moving forward. A few of the reps sent work requests for new or updated websites. He marked an email from a business college as priority, reminding himself to check his calendar to see if he could be a guest speaker later in the semester.

  His phone pinged. When he swiped the screen, he saw a message from Delphine.

  Wow. Fantastique! The website looks amazing. I’m going to pass the links on to my editor for his feedback, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s more than I ever could have imagined. Thank you! Psst‒be sure to send me an invoice.

  He chuckled. He would send her an invoice, but a discounted one. The saying business wasn’t personal was only partly true. He learned early in his career to not give away his services for free or else the people he helped didn’t appreciate his time. But business was more than just a number on a check. Relationships were important, and he hoped things would continue to progress with Delphine. If they ended up backing off into the ‘just friends’ category, he’d like to be able to maintain a business relationship she would respect.

  How’s work going for you today? he replied.

  So much better. The puzzle is finally coming together and the scenes are just flying. My brain is going to need a break soon. *hint hint*

  He checked his watch and work items to complete and made a guesstimate on how long it would take to finish up before replying.

  Message received. I have about two more hours of work before I can take off for the day. Would you and Hugo like to go for a walk and grab dinner? I promise to only keep you long enough for your brain to recharge.

  Her answer was quickly returned.

  The timing sounds about right for me, too. Just come to my apartment when you’re ready. See you soon!

  The next two hours crawled by, with him checking the clock every ten or so minutes. He finally set a timer for twenty minutes and pushed himself to work through as much as he could before it went off. Then he continued repeating the process until he not only had his work done for the day, but had a work plan for the next day as well.

  He grabbed his jacket and bid his secretary goodbye. When he arrived at Delphine’s apartment building, he quickly climbed the stairs. He took a second to catch his breath, then knocked on her front door. He smiled when he heard Hugo on the other side.

  The door unlatched. His breath caught. Even in yoga pants, makeup free, and a messy ponytail with a pen sticking out at the top, she was beautiful and more captivating than a galaxy of stars.

  “Hi,” he said, sounding like a young teenager waiting for the pretty girl to invite him in. She smiled and tilted her face up to receive bise kisses, her sweet fruit scent surrounding him when he pressed his cheek to hers.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but this is me on the average work day,” she said, stepping aside and motioning for him to enter. Once the door was closed and Hugo was free, the dog sat at Jean-Paul’s feet and lifted his paw in greeting.

  “I quite like you in your natural habitat,” he said, kneeling to shake Hugo’s paw, then scratch him behind the ear.

  Her eyebrows lifted up and down a few times. “Except instead of polar bears, I have Hugo to share it with. Speaking of which, Hugo, allez!”

  Delphine handed Jean-Paul the leash, and he clipped it to Hugo’s collar while she grabbed a thick sweater cardigan, then they were off. They stopped at a street vendor to purchase baguette sandwiches and cans of cola, then walked through the park until they found a bench with a pretty view of the port and the boats out on the water.

  “Mmm, it feels so good to be outside,” Delphine said, turning her face up to catch some rays from the soon-to-be setting sun.

  Jean-Paul unwrapped his sandwich and tore off a chunk of bread to share with Hugo. “Creating is a curse, isn’t it? It’s a blessing when inspiration is strong. The hours slip by while I’m deep into a project, but the downside is being holed up in one place.”

  “Oui, it’s true,” Delphine said, taking the first bite of her sandwich. “For me, it’s not talking to real people. I have so many conversations with my characters or texts with family and friends, but actually leaving my apartment and meeting friends in person, well, I tend to let that part of my life slip. Then when I come up for air, I splurge on as much interaction as I can handle before I g
o back into the cave.” She popped open her soda can. “Speaking of cave, my editor loved the website. He asked for your contact info, so don’t be surprised if he calls or emails.”

  “I’d really like to hear his perspective from a publishing point of view. Merci.”

  Delphine’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out, and he caught a glimpse of a text message from her Papa before she swiped the screen closed.

  “How is your family doing? Do you get to Switzerland very often to see them?” he asked.

  She surprised him by stiffening and dropping her phone into the pocket of her cardigan. “I used to fly out once or twice a month for a long weekend, but things are complicated now.” She looked down at her half-eaten sandwich and tore off a chunk for Hugo. “My Maman has Alzheimer’s. It’s been . . . difficult for her to have me nearby. A few months ago when I visited, she became very agitated, confusing me with her younger sister during a time when they didn’t get along.” When she looked up at him, the deep sadness in her eyes just about slayed him. “I thought it would be easier for her if I kept my distance.”

  “Has it?” Jean-Paul asked, taking her hand in his and rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand, wishing it could soothe away her pain. For someone as sweet as Delphine to gradually lose her mother in such an agonizing way seemed utterly unfair.

  She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know for sure. Papa has been handling everything, and he tries to always be positive about it. Lately, I’ve been actively trying to not think about it. It just hurts too much.”