Char steps into Carrie's apartment with her mail, and sees Carrie's laptop lying on the bed, alone, alone. This makes Char cock her head like a puppy. Hmm? Biscuit goes what? She peruses Carrie's recommendation letter for her and Harry's adoption process. Then the phone rings. It's Big, leaving a message. He "can't lose" Carrie again. Then he says it: he loves her. Char snatches up the phone.

Brunch, the truncated version: just the three remaining girls in NYC. Char says, "And her computer was just sitting on the bed!" Um, they have laptops in France. The power conversion thing may have been an issue. Or maybe it's a sign. At least, it's symbolic. Big walks in. Char looks, then smiles a little. Mir and Sam look at him like an evil thing, then as a necessary evil. Big says he made a lot of mistakes with Carrie: "I fucked it up. Many times." Then he says that the three of them are "the loves of her life, and a guy is just lucky to come in fourth." God, that's sweet. Then he says, "I do love her. And if you think I have the slightest chance, I'm on the next flight to Paris...but if you think that she really is happy, then I don't want to wreck that for her. And I'll be history." Pause. Silence. Sam looks at Miranda. Mir looks at Sam. Char looks at them both, blinking back tears. Then Mir leans forward and -- god, I love her eye makeup here. All blue and lovely -- says, "Go get our girl." I love Miranda! Time for another haiku:

Yes: Big has returned.
He'll snatch the Little Kept Girl
Back to NYC

Carrie sips champagne and giggles. Alek hands her a jewelry box. She's all, what's this? He says he knows it isn't "the Carrie necklace. But it's a necklace for Carrie."

Carrie kvells and tries it on. It's GORGE. Rough diamonds, loose, on a chain, not set. Lovely, light, subtle. Alek leans in and says he knows he's been busy, but as soon as the opening is over, it will just be the two of them. Carrie smiles and leans in for a kiss. Then Alek is hailed by one of his friends, who has a woman in tow. They hail-fellow-well-met each other, then Carrie is brushed aside for another rapid-fire conversation en Francais. She sits quietly, looking on unhappily, as the party talk in another language falls around her like a piece of toast, buttered side down. Carrie wants no part of it. And everyone around her is oblivious to the fact, or just ignoring her as they natter on. Quel rudeness! Carrie's lost! Unhappy! It's so obvious! Carrie, come home!