Page 64 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
Thea laid her hands on her thighs, trying to hide her discomfort. “I’d been dragging my feet. I was hoping I’d come across a big bag of money in a suitcase along the Seine.”
She burst out laughing and hugged her friend again. “Oh, Thea. That’s why I love you. Always looking for a miracle. So, how about thinking your Fairy Godmothers, who helped you with your original Paris makeover, are your miracle? I talked with the others, and we’d all like to chip into the wedding fund. I’m the one who gets the honor of turning the pumpkins and mice into the carriage and footman, so to speak.”
“Jean Luc gave me a different perspective on this,” Thea said, holding her tightly, “but it’s still a work in progress. I’ll find a way to make it up to you. Maybe I’ll bake your wedding cake someday.”
Wedding cake? Her stomach turned to acid. She’d had the bakery in New York picked out for her cake, thinking Adam was close to proposing. Instead of being presented with the beautiful little Tiffany box she’d expected, she’d walked in on Plumonia and Adam naked in their shower. She’d been so humiliated she’d left that part out in her stories about the breakup, saying only that he’d dumped her and quickly hooked up with Plumonia. She hadn’t told anyone that juicy morsel—not even Thea. Maybe she could in a while, but the shame was still too fresh.
“Thea, you make my life better every day by being my friend.” She gripped her harder, banishing the shower incident from her mind. “Don’t you remember what we always say? The people who really love you help your dreams come true, and we love you. So much! We want your wedding to be everything you could ever want.”
“But you’ll get discounts from your fashion friends, right?” Thea pushed back and looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Because that would make me feel better, knowing the dress was worn in a fashion shoot or something already so it’s not strictly off the rack.”
Brooke didn’t correct her terminology. Thankfully, Thea knew as much about her work as a fashion writer as Brooke did about making croissants. “You got it! But Fabiana really wants to buy your shoes.”
A sweet-as-pie smile crested across Thea’s face. “I’d love that. You know, I’m really the luckiest person in the world. I have you guys, Nanine, and now Jean Luc and his family. I love you, Brooke.”
Words of love had been rare in her life other than with her father, and she guarded the feeling and the use closely, especially after her mother had proven how little they could mean by leaving without a backward glance to start a new family. Brooke had grown up fast after that, grateful for the doting love of her father and Nanine, whose restaurant was a treasured sanctuary on trips to Paris. Then she’d come to Paris to earn her fashion degree, something she’d done, in part, to be closer to Nanine, and she’d met her Paris roommates.
That decision had changed her life. Coming back here to start anew with everyone had felt the same. She gave Thea another hug and held on tight. “I love you too.”
She was not going to let this thing with Jacqueline and her family’s cave tear her own family apart. Not even if she had to do a little meddling.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Dean boxed up the gift bags he’d painstakingly made on his bed.
The house had been filled with tension for the past couple of days, and he’d brainstormed ways to bring the humor and camaraderie back. This was what he’d landed on: individually tailored T-shirts.
God, please let this work.
Doubt tried to creep in—what if some of his roommates saw through him? They knew him and his people-pleasing ways better than anyone, but before his mood could take a total nosedive, he snagged all eight bags—because Nanine and Jean Luc were getting shirts too—and ventured down the treacherous stairs to the kitchen table, where everyone had gathered for dinner.
“Didn’t you hear us calling?” Brooke’s stress was evident in her shoulders, covered by a tailored Chanel shirt in white and black. “We need to order some food, or we’re going to be waiting forever.”
Yeah, because he’d fumbled with putting the presents together, discarding the fancy ribbon he’d bought. “I was preparing gifts for you guys.”
“Bribes, more like,” Sawyer muttered, shoving his glasses up his nose.
Caught red-handed like he’d feared. “Doc, I’m really hurt by that. Here. Take yours.” He handed the green bag to his brainy friend and then passed around the others.
No one made a move to open them. He forced a smile. “Well, go on…”
Jean Luc eyed his bag with extra suspicion. “I did not know I warranted a gift.”
“Hey!” He patted Jean Luc on the back as he walked to the single empty chair beside Thea, whose usually ebullient energy had dipped to the point where she barely nodded at him. “When you see it,bro,everything will make sense. How about you guys open yours on three?”
Even his beloved Nanine raised a brow. “You Americans and your fascination with time.”
“Three,” he joked over the quiver in his stomach.
Thea, God love her, was the first to open her present. She drew her pink T-shirt out and then laughed like old times when she unfolded it and held it up. “This is great, Dean. Jean Luc, look! I’m THE BAKING GODDESS.”
“That you are,ma chérie,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’m almost afraid to see what Dean thinks I am.”
“You can bet it won’t be WORLD’S GREATEST LAWYER,” Sawyer joked, “because that’s too on the nose.”
“What does that phrase mean?” Jean Luc asked with narrowing eyes. “You aren’t insulting my nose, are you, Sawyer?”
“Of course not!” Thea protested. “You have a beautiful nose.”
