Page 21 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“With Chef Madison,” Pierre answered before whistling loudly and flying over to Madison, who extended her arm like a pro.
So she and Pierre had become as close as he’d suspected! Everyone but Kyle seemed to lap up the confirmation, but he wasn’t surprised Golden Boy had known first. He and Madison finished each other’s sentences lately.
Jacqueline looked at the parrot and then around the room after an uncomfortable beat of silence. “I can imagine the excitement the article has generated publicly because Pierre is the most wonderful friend anyone can have. But he has been in my family since he was a baby—”
“I’m confused,” Madison said, cocking her hip. “If you want to keep Pierre, how did he end up in a pet store for sale?”
Dean wanted to know too, but Madison should tread more lightly. Jacqueline was clearly feeling emotional about the situation. He sent his friend an imploring look and tried to silently say,She’s just experienced a loss, but that was so not French. He turned to Brooke for help, but she only shrugged. Great.
Jacqueline pressed her lips together tightly and glanced away. “Like I said, it was a misunderstanding, and I am very sorry.”
Madison pressed, “Pierre might be new to us, but we promised him that he has a home here. When we give our word to someone, we keep it.”
Dean saw Nanine smile and watched as a few of his roommates nodded. Madison’s fierce loyalty was one of the reasons they loved her, but right now it was likely alienating his dream girl…who also happened to be in possession of the cave they needed to buy. Surely she hadn’t changed her mind about that—not that he could ask. He would call the wine store owner later. If only he could get her alone and see if they could figure out a compromise, because one wrong move could ruin everything.
She looked off, saying, “C’est compliqué.”
Not the French answer ofit’s complicated! Madison was going to skewer her to the wall like a good kabob if Jacqueline didn’t offer a better answer.
“I imagine it is,” Dean interrupted, stepping forward and throwing Madison another warning glance. “Why don’t we take Pierre on a walk and you can tell me what’s going on? Maybe even stop for a café?”
She nodded, the subtlest tilt of accommodation. So French. “All right, thank you. Perhaps I could use a café.”
“Fine, then.” Dean held out his arm to Pierre. “Come over here, my friend. We’re going on a little adventure.”
The parrot gave a delighted cry and flew to him. Dean walked over to his cage and secured him before fixing the burgundy throw over it. When he picked up the cage, Jacqueline was staring at it with shining eyes.
“It has memories,” she whispered softly. “That throw.”
God, was that her stepmother’s? “Would you like it?”
She shook her head fiercely. “No, it is Pierre’s. I will wait for you outside.”
Because she clearly needed a minute.
Nanine and his roommates said nothing after that, but he crossed to Kyle before leaving. “We don’t want to alienate the woman selling the cave,” he said in a voice that wouldn’t carry. “Remind the others while I handle this.”
“Assuming she hasn’t changed her mind about that too,” Kyle chose to point out. “You remember the world thinks Pierre is at Nanine’s after the article today, right?”
“Don’t make me finally punch you and find out if you have a glass jaw.” He walked over to the coatrack for his coat. “And I’m going to confirm our meeting to see the cave as soon as I get back, Kyle.”
“Good, because this turn of events—”
“I know, dammit,” Dean ground out as he picked up Pierre’s cage and walked out the back door. Jacqueline was standing at the end of the alley, her lips pressed together tightly. Again, he felt that call to empathy. “Let’s get you a café.” As they walked down the alley toward the street, he considered how to handle the situation.
“Le Mondedid a good job telling the story of how we ended up together with Nanine and started our business,” he told her in French. “We’re a great group.” God, he wanted to cringe at his own words. But how was he supposed to talk to her? All of the questions he wanted to ask would be considered rude times a thousand.
She regarded him with a bland stare, as if he’d suddenly turned into that infamous five-hundred-million-year-old single-cell yellowishblobyou could gawk at in the Paris zoo which supposedly had over seven hundred sexes despite having no limbs or stomach, something Sawyer couldn’t talk enough about. Basically, his dream girl thought he was a nutcase. Terrific.
His smile was starting to hurt. “If Pierre likes us, we can’t be that bad, right? Trust me, Madison might look really tough, but deep down she’s a softie. Which is why Pierre likes her so much.”
He was overexplaining and he knew it, trying to make her feel better. But he remembered what it felt like to be ganged up on by a bunch of strangers who knew each other—it had happened to him at a couple of board meetings early on in his career, and it had royally sucked. And he hadn’t been grieving…
“Pierre is a discerning soul,” she quietly stated, her big brown eyes dipping to his cage before rising to examine him.
Should he mention their San Francisco connection? No, probably not. Then he’d sound like a stalker. “I’m really sorry to hear about your recent loss. I can’t imagine it was easy to deal with it, being so far away.”
Her brown eyes lost that chilly look of winter earth, returning to warm chocolate. Dean considered it a win. “It was. Thank you.”
