Cuffs, Croquembouche, and Chaos

Alex: Do you remember that night we ended up in jail for something we didn’t even do?

Jordan: Don't remind me. I don’t think my back has ever forgiven me for those steel benches.

Alex: And the smell. Like stale coffee and mildew had a baby.

Jordan: You sure it wasn’t the undigested Brillat-Savarin?

Alex: You know I can never pass up a French triple cream, but still, it wasn’t all bad.

Jordan: You’re joking.

Alex: No, really. It was… weirdly fun.

Jordan: Fun? We were accused of grand larceny and interrogated for two hours.

Alex: Accused wrongly, of course.

Jordan: You made quite the show insisting on our innocence.

Alex: Because we were innocent.

Jordan: Mhm.

Alex: Don’t start.

Jordan: I’m not starting anything. I’m merely remembering how dramatically you said, “We never touched that diamond!”

Alex: Well, we didn’t!

Jordan: True. Not even a smudge.

Alex: And yet they dragged us away from the gala like criminals. We didn’t even get to try the Gâteau St. Honoré. I can still almost taste it.

Jordan: It was a Croquembouche, you’re confusing the dessert with last week’s showstopper on The Great British Bake Off.

Alex: You sure?

Jordan: Positive. They had been adding the last of the profiteroles to the tower when I walked past the kitchen.

Alex: Was that before or after you knocked over that ice sculpture?

Jordan: Er, that was you.

Alex: Absolutely not. You sneezed and sent it crashing to bits right in front of that actor’s fancy little shoes. What was his name? The one with the face.

Jordan: Benedryl Cumberbund?

Alex: No. Bendycat Cuddlebath?

Jordan: Doesn’t matter. You’re the one who leaned in too far trying to hear the curator gossip.

Alex: It was a peacock, you know.

Jordan: What?

Alex: The ice sculpture was clearly a peacock. Its tail was spread.

Jordan: You only think it was spread because you toppled it and the pieces went everywhere.

Alex: Regardless, it made quite the commotion. And started the whispers.

Jordan: I don’t know, I’d say the whispers started when you began monologuing about Duccio’s painting and how rare it is.

Alex: Having fun, my dear. Sharing knowledge.

Jordan: Drawing the stares of nearly everyone in the room.

Alex: Which is why barely anyone noticed you being so weird about how much cheese I was eating.

Jordan: Excuse me? You kept wandering into the staff corridor looking for more treats.

Alex: Only because you kept shoving me in that direction.

Jordan: I nudged you away from yet another cheese platter. I wasn’t about to spend the hour-long drive home with my head out the window to avoid the consequences of a lactose-intolerant’s cheese addiction.

Alex: We don’t say no to Manchego Gran Reserva when it's paired with truffle honey.

Jordan: We do if we want to share the same bedroom, and if I remember correctly, more than a few guests said you were the suspicious one.

Alex: Me? You’re the one who told the curator that diamonds are your favorite. Joked about borrowing it for an evening or two. Ring any bells?

Jordan: None louder than the one you set off when you tried to go out the emergency exit for a smoke!

Alex: That’s because you forgot rule number one.

Jordan: I would never forget rule number one.

Alex: Then why did I get tackled by five guards?

Jordan: It wasn’t five guards, it was three, and they only grabbed you by the arm.

Alex: I had a bruise for a week!

Jordan: You handled it beautifully, as I recall.

Alex: I dazzled them.

Jordan: They thought you were drunk.

Alex: Acting!

Jordan: How many glasses of champagne did you have? Five? Six?

Alex: I snacked.

Jordan: Yes, and I fear my nose will never forget.

Alex: It was Tête de Moine, Alex! Tête de Moine! They can only make those little rosettes with a special knife.

Jordan: How did we end up in that little gray room of suspicion, I wonder?

Alex: The interrogation room, yes! Smelled worse than the holding cell. Straight up urine.

Jordan: True, and it wasn't even you that time. Though you were looking a little smug, sat back all relaxed like you were on holiday.

Alex: Confidence. We were innocent.

Jordan: So confident until the detective slammed his hand on the table and you made that sound.

Alex: I would have called it a dignified chuckle.

Jordan: You literally squeaked.

Alex: You and your details.

Jordan: Meanwhile, I asked for a lawyer. Standard procedure.

Alex: Adorable procedure.

Jordan: Adorable?

Alex: You’re so cute when you follow the rules. And of course they had nothing on us. No evidence. No diamond.

Jordan: Because the diamond was never missing.

Alex: Exactly! A simple cataloging mistake.

Jordan: Such a silly little mistake.

Alex: How funny was it when the curator nearly fainted?

Jordan: His outrage was operatic when he recovered. I’d never seen anyone turn that shade of red before.

Alex: I can’t believe you offered to fly back in and help them with the cataloguing next time! It made our release all the sweeter.

Jordan: Not as sweet as the way you laughed. I still remember it echoing down the alleyway when we got back to the gala.

Alex: Couldn’t help it. Relief, I suppose.

Jordan: I laughed too. Now that you've got me thinking back, that was the moment it all hit me.

Alex: What?

Jordan: That I loved you. Again. Like the first time, only more.

Alex: …Strange. I thought the same thing. That even locked in a New York City holding cell, nothing but flickering lights and cold benches, there’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with.

Jordan: How romantic, in a tragic kind of way.

Alex: Perfect, in its own way. Like tonight, all these decades later, sitting here eating dinner with you, that painting above our fireplace—

Jordan: Careful.

Alex: What? It’s just us here, and it's been ages.

Jordan: Still. Choose your words.

Alex: Fine. Every time I see... our little souvenir, I remember that night.

Jordan: Me too. The chaos. The laughter.

Alex: The fake diamond panic.

Jordan: And the real masterpiece, all eleven inches of it, tucked neatly between stacks of cardboard boxes, just waiting to be set in the back alley and placed ever so carefully into our trunk.

Alex: While its imitation still hangs innocently in the museum. What a life. Admired by thousands, never suspected.

Jordan: Which is why no one will ever believe we’re guilty of anything.

Alex: Especially after how silly they looked when they had to admit nothing was even missing.

Jordan: Our best performance.

Alex: Our best heist.

Jordan: And the night we fell in love all over again.