Page 77 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
When they finally reached the fourth floor, Kyle led them down a short hallway. “There’s an outdoor garden through the salon here, but we’re headed back this way.”
Kyle reached another single door and opened it. They followed him in.
Sawyer bumped into Brooke when she stopped, and then he heard her say, “Oh wow.”
Oh wow, indeed. He froze, his heart rising to his throat. Clearly, he’d stepped into heaven. His eyes started to burn as he took in the row of easels holding blank canvases in various sizes. Tarps covered the floor. There were buckets of paintbrushes on a long wooden table along with handcrafted boxes holding paints from his favorite store, all arranged by type and color. Other items he used—Galkyd and molding paste—were off to the side. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, only to see blue sky through the windows above.
It was the perfect atelier, worthy of a master, and the biggest vote of confidence anyone had ever given him. He gulped. Would he ever be able to live up to this?
Kyle was waiting to meet his gaze, and they shared a long look.
“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, man,” he said hoarsely, terrified he might actually start crying or something.
“You needed more space, Doc, or should I say, Maestro,” Kyle said simply, making his eyes burn. “Dean would say it was kismet, right? I knew the moment Ambre showed me this place. This space used to be a ballroom, but a former owner turned it into an atelier sometime during the Belle Epoch. I’m glad you like it, man.”
Like it? Those words were much too small. Oh, the paintings he could paint here!
Kyle ran to the door. “I really need to get down to Madison. Who wants to come? You might want to see what surprise I have next.”
“I’m so coming!” Brooke ran after him when he took off, Thea and Jean Luc, who’d just arrived, following behind them.
Sawyer took one last look before joining the others. They all couldn’t fit into the elevator, which only comfortably fit four, so the happy couple said they’d stay behind. The elevator gave a little authentic lurch here and there as they descended, but Sawyer was in a state of sheer awe.
He had an atelier! A real honest-to-goodness atelier. In Paris! Holy shit!
“Madison!” Kyle called the moment the elevator doors opened.
He rushed out, and Brooke and Sawyer followed. She was standing in the entryway, her entire body stiff with tension, her arms clenched around her body. “I don’t like this, Kyle.”
He approached her warily. “I’m sorry about that, but you’ll understand in a sec. Don’t be mad. Okay? Just…come with me.”
When she didn’t move, he extended his hand. “You said you trust me. I’m asking you to remember that. Please, Madison.”
Knowing what he did, Sawyer noticed the hoarse edge in Kyle’s voice and felt for him.
“I am so not holding your hand.” She gestured rudely. “Well…”
“Right.” He wiped his forehead. “This way.”
They followed Kyle down the hall past a large formal dining room. Sawyer could hear the suppressed anger in Madison’s footsteps.
At the end of the hallway, Kyle paused, gave a hearty sigh, and then said, “I hope you like it, Madison.”
He stepped through the doorway. She was right behind him, and Sawyer heard a shocked inhalation.
When he cleared the door, he understood why. Here was Madison’s heaven, one Kyle had arranged for her. Now Sawyer understood why he’d had her remain behind. If she’d seen the space upstairs, she might have guessed he’d done the same for her.
Even though he wasn’t a huge cook, he was impressed. There was an industrial rack of shiny copper pots hanging above a kitchen island any chef would whimper over. Weren’t copper pots to chefs what Italian linen canvas was to artists? There was a wall of mini-coolers with glass fronts, like a refrigerator bookcase, Sawyer thought, as well as a station for deep frying, grilling, and a massive stove with an industrial vent along with different levels for kitchen prep on the counters. He spotted two dishwashers, two sinks in different sizes, as well as a waterspout above the back burner usually reserved for big pots for pasta and the like.
“Cool,” he breathed out as Brooke came over to stand beside him, smiling.
“You work so much that I thought it might be nice to have a different place to create,” Kyle said in an unusually halting voice. “You can move anything you want, and I didn’t dare purchase any true kitchen implements, except the copper pots. Nanine thought you’d like them when I asked.”
“Nanine knew about all of this?”Brooke put her hands to her cheeks. “I’m in total shock.”
Sawyer was feeling a little shaky himself.
“Thea can bake here too, I imagine, but since she’s pretty much living with Jean Luc already, I thought the kitchen should be tailored for you and your needs.” Kyle’s mouth tipped into a smile before it slid away. He was studying their friend closely, capturing her every move and expression.
