*THIS PIECE CONTAINS SPOILERS*

Several years in the futre*

Tiffany hurried down the street. His note had given a specific time, and she didn’t want to be late. The sun had set. The Eiffel tower was aglow behind her. It was summer and time was precious.

She hadn’t seen him in three months. She didn’t know where he had been on assignment, and he hadn’t been able to contact her. So to receive his note…she had managed to leave work on time, assuring Daisy she had a very important meeting and everything was fine. She knew Daisy knew there it involved him, so Daisy didn’t ask questions, for which Tiffany was grateful.

Tiffany smoothed down her skirt, hoping her hair wasn’t too mussed from the day of directing models. Fashion Week Paris started in two weeks, and a couple of the models were not up to par. Tiffany was pretty sure that at least one was strung out on drugs, and she needed to be sure she had a replacement at the ready. She could bring Rayma over, but Rayma was leading the New York models. Dan and her best friend Kendall were at Olympic training. Natala wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure, and Aralyn would balk at the idea of that big of a show. Mabon would do it but she was a busy, rising star in college.

She ignored the street vendors as she walked, wondering if he would have time for dinner. His note has been so brief, so terse, that she hoped he wasn’t going to end things. But no, if he was, it wouldn’t take much, he could just never call her again. Of course, he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t. They had too much history. They shared too much.

Tiffany felt her fatigue seeping into her, but brushed it off. She’d get an espresso later; she seemed to live off of them these days. Right now, she had more important things to worry about. Like meeting him on time.

There was some crowd gathered up ahead, blocking the plaza. Probably a protest, she thought in annoyance, or a street performer. She was forced to skirt the crowd, elbowing her way through shouting people.

She should have worn her other shoes, she thought, instead of the 4 inch heels. Her feet were killing her, she was going to have to soak them again tonight. Maybe she should start wearing flats or sneakers to work, then change upon arrival. Daisy had told her to, and not to wear the high heels all the time. That was good advice, she thought absently. But she did like the way the heels accentuated her long legs. So did he.

On the road, cars honked as they flew down the road, and the protesters were spilling into the streets. Tiffany sighed. That was going to cause a mess, and potentially a riot. She didn’t want to be involved in either one.

Finally, she made her way around the crowd and hurried towards the café he’d told her to meet him at. He would be outside, and her heart pounded as she grew closer. Would he still feel the same? Would the passion be there? The sparks, the attraction? Maybe it had fizzled in their time apart. Maybe he would see her and not feel the pull that had brought them together in the first place.

She heard live music, and knew the nightly street performers were out and about now, as the sun was setting. They lingered in different parts of the city, and as she neared the café, she could hear the violin strains of someone closeby. They would move through the streets, hoping to earn cash as they played to impress lovers and lovers-to-be of all ages.

Would he be outside, waiting? Would he have gone in and gotten a table? That thought made her walk faster. If they had that much time, she didn’t want to waste a minute of it. He had warned her in the beginning, he would be gone for months at a time, with no communication. She’d never forget the day when he appeared at her bedside, bloodied, in a cast, leaning on a cane, leaving a hospital bed to come to hers.

All she had figured out was that he was a spy of some sort. And he was Australian. Of course he hadn’t confirmed that, but the accent slipped through sometimes. What an Australian spy was doing in Europe, she didn’t want to know. Not that he could tell her. She sent emails to the email account he had given her, but she never received a reply. Tiffany didn’t even know if he received them, but sometimes it made her feel better to send them, it was the closest she could get to talking to him on a regular basis.

Sometimes, she knew he was close because the flowers would appear in her apartment. Their special floral arrangement, the one he had brought the first night they got together, when it all started. Well, technically, it had all started on the plane ride, but it was that first night…

Of course, she wasn’t even sure that Callum Buchanan was his real name. She doubted it, but she didn’t care. It’s who he was when he was with her. He swore up and down he didn’t have another girlfriend or wife, but for her own protection, he couldn’t be around her or in contact with her on a regular basis. When she asked him one night if it was his real name, he just smiled. It was foolish of her, she knew, to have given her heart to man who couldn’t even tell her if it was his real name, and Aralyn was less than thrilled about it, but it was her heart to give.

She wondered if he was busy overthrowing one of the Middle Eastern governments. There was so much rumor and speculation of who was helping the rebels in those countries…she hoped not. She didn’t want him anywhere near those violent messes. She wanted him safe, and with her.

Tiffany wondered if she should pause to check her makeup, or touch up her lipstick. No, she didn’t want to waste a second that she might have with him. The smell of food reached her and her stomach growled. She had skipped lunch again; she had been so busy. There would be time for food later. Right now, she just wanted to see him.

The café came into sight and her heart skipped. He wasn’t outside, waiting. She hurried towards the café, heart pounding. What if something had come up and he couldn’t make it?

“Tiffany!”

Callum. She stopped and turned. There he was, coming towards her, clutching a bouquet of flowers. A grin spread over his handsome face and she walked towards him, running the last few steps, as he walked rapidly towards her.

Once she was within reach, he grabbed her and lifted her off the ground.

Tiffany’s heart sang as she threw her arms around him, and their lips met. She didn't care what his current assignment was. For now, he was hers.

***
Author Notes
- A huge thank you to Ronda, my lovely editor who did a super fast edit for me.
- This was written for photo #5 of the CWE 3: A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words Challenge. Thank you to the CWE team for coming up with this fun challenge!
- This scene is in the far, far future. So it's just a tease of a spoiler. :)
- A super big, humungous thank you to MaryN for coming to my rescue last minute to make the background seamless for me while my Photoshop is acting wonky. You're the bestest, Mary!
- Word Count, 1183

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