Page 91 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“Oui!” the parrot responded, flapping his red cape with the white lining. “Like a king.”
“Let me see.” Antoine stepped closer, and Dean pulled the throw the rest of the way off the cage. “Ah, now that istrès elegant.Thea will love it. Speaking of, I will be right back.”
“Let’s take him over to your table while we wait for Antoine,” Dean suggested, aware of the attention they were attracting, especially of the photo and video-loving variety. “You should finish your café.”
“I’m mostly done.” They strolled over to the table, and she moved her cup to the edge so he could settle Pierre on the surface. “Now I really can’t wait to meet your friends, especially Brooke. She must be very thoughtful to have made Pierre a party suit.”
She had been in overdrive since learning of the house, but that was the gear she liked to live on. “No one does details or creativity like Brooke. Now let’s talk aboutyourparty outfit. You will rival the stars tonight.”
“The moon too,” Pierre said with a whistle as more phones trained on them. “Very beautiful, Jacqueline.”
The little charmer, but Dean couldn’t agree more. He kissed the side of her neck, unable to help himself, and nearly grew tongue-tied again as he picked up the scent of her skin mixed with that perfume he loved so well. “You really are.”
She gave him a beaming smile. “Merci.You are very presentable as well.”
Must be a translation thing, but he’d take it. “We’re a strange couple, accompanied by a parrot who could grace Broadway or something in that cape, but I like it.”
She pressed his hand to her cheek, gazing at him with those same stars in her eyes he’d mentioned before. “Me too.”
He leaned in to kiss her, and Pierre gave a whistle, making them both break apart laughing. Antoine bustled through the tables like the professional he was and handed Dean a take-out wine bag with a rose from one of the tables looped through the handle.
“For Thea,” he said shyly. “Make sure she knows the wine is from her old friend, Antoine. Tell her happy birthday and to come by for a birthday coffee on the house.”
Touched, Dean rose and gripped the man’s shoulder. This was his neighborhood again, and the more time passed, the more certain he was he’d made the right choice in coming back. He was supposed to be here. With these people. He glanced over to Jacqueline, who’d opened the door to Pierre’s birdcage and was petting his feathers and murmuring to him in French. His heart swelled in his chest. Yeah, he was supposed to be here with her, and with this bird too.
“You must go,” Antoine said, gripping Dean’s shoulder in kind. “I am glad you came by, my friend. Jacqueline, your café is on the house.”
“That is very kind.” She rose to kiss his cheeks again, making him blush.
“Have fun tonight,” he said with a slightly embarrassed laugh before turning away.
Dean watched him go and then glanced at Jacqueline, who was closing Pierre’s cage and covering it. He savored the feeling of a full heart as they set off to Jean Luc’s parents’ place.
“Was your bed delivered today,chéri?” she asked as they navigated the other people on the sidewalk.
He sent her a flirtatious wink. “It sure was, and I hope to introduce you to it shortly. Perhaps tonight, if you would like.”
“A party and a first meeting with your new bed,” she answered with a knowing smile. “I cannot think of a better way to spend the evening.”
Neither could he. Arriving at the apartment, he buzzed the number and heard the door click open. Pushing it, he waited for her to pass before letting himself into the arched corridor. He’d only been here once before, for Thea’s engagement party.
“You know,” he told her, “the last time I came here, it was a pretty momentous occasion. That was the night I showed everyone my idea for naming our business. I’d gotten us business cards with The Paris Roommates Group on them, and I was so nervous. But everyone loved the idea. I even got a hug from Madison. Tonight I feel like it’s going to be another momentous night. I feel it buzzing inside of me.”
“So do I.” She stopped and put her hand on his chest. “Meeting your friends feels like I’m meeting your family. Dean, I know how much they matter to you.”
He could see the rare vulnerability in her beautiful eyes and sought to assure her in the only way he knew. Cupping the back of her neck, he tilted her head up as he lowered his own and poured himself into the kiss. She clutched the lapels of his shirt as their mouths sought and found each other again and again.
“They’ll love you like I do,” he whispered, hoping she understood the full meaning of his words.
Her hand touched his face, a soulful look passing between them, something he couldn’t analyze or put into words. Then he heard a discreet cough from behind him and glanced over to see Sawyer standing in front of the large double doors holding a large pink-wrapped present with a white bow.
“Sorry to interrupt, but once I stepped inside, there was nowhere to go,” his friend explained as they separated.
Sawyer’s hair wasn’t artist wild anymore, he noticed, but tamed down to the black-locks poet look à la Byron, which Brooke joked his female students must adore. The past couple of days, Sawyer had barely left his new atelier. Brooke and Thea had been so concerned they’d brought food up to him on a tray, only to return with an exaggerated eye roll from Brooke, who said, “Artists.”
“I thought I was going to be the last one to arrive,” Sawyer commented, shoving his hand in one of the pockets of his chocolate brown suit with red stripes, a red vest peeking out underneath, and a fabulous caramel silk tie that made Dean think of Thea’s apple dessert.
“Nice threads, man,” Dean commented, gesturing.
