Page 39 of Brooke
She’d floated toward it as she called a raspyBonjour.Fabiana had immediately taken charge, and within minutes, Thea was trying it on in the narrow dressing room behind a rose curtain, tears in her eyes. Because the dresswasperfect. Better yet, she could afford it. Impossible as it seemed, it was only a few hundred euros.
Fabiana bustled into the small room, her stunning Italian features transforming into the sheer joy of a Madonna painting Sawyer loved. Thea bounced in her bare feet as they both touched the fabric.
“It is your dress, my love,” she’d said softly in Italian before switching to French, which she sometimes did when weighed with deep emotion.
Theyoohedandaahedover the dress with the shopkeeper, who had told them she’d only started her shop a month ago, after graduating from design school. She’d hoped someone would love this dress as she did because she’d had it in her head since she’d been a little girl sketching dresses along the Seine. Kismet, Dean would say. They had all gotten a little weepy-eyed then.
That had sealed it.
Fabiana had bought it on the spot, with Thea protesting she could actually afford to pay for it. Only her future mother-in-law had passionately stated that Thea was already like her new daughter and it would give her such joy to do it.
Thea had finally consented. How could she not? They’d embraced the shopkeeper warmly on the way out, agreeing to come back for a fitting closer to the wedding. Fabiana had taken her to a nearby café, and they’d ordered champagne. She’d been so happy that it hadn’t dawned on her once to think about what she’d done…
“What is wrong,chérie? Has that poor bread insulted you in some way?”
Jean Luc leaned in to kiss her—she hadn’t even heard him come in—and she pressed her head to the front of his navy pinstriped suit, tears filling her eyes.
“I did something terrible,” she confessed, her heart a lump of fallen bread dough in her chest.
His arms wound around her immediately. “Thea! What is it, my love? Tell me and we will fix it. This instant!”
That he spoke in English told her how upset he was, which helped snap her into some coherence. “I found my wedding dress!”
More blubbering ensued. She pressed her doughy hand to her mouth and then thought better of it when she tasted it.
He rubbed the mess gently from her lips, his face a study of alarm. “Why are you crying, then? Is it that expensive?”
His teasing had her choking out a laugh. “No! But it’s the most beautiful dress in the world. And your mother bought it because she said I was her daughter?—”
“Good. I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about her.”
His lips were twitching, but her inner turmoil hadn’t abated. “Jean Luc! I bought my dress without Brooke. Celebrated finding it without Brooke.”
Alarm spread across the beautiful panes of his face. “Oh, I see. Well, that is…terrible.”
She punched her dough for good measure. “My mind went totally blank. It was like aliens had briefly abducted my brain.”
“Aliens in Paris?” He gave a mock shudder. “Not that.”
Since she loved the way he helped her manage her anxiety, she only tried to swat him gently with her messy hands, which he evaded. “It’s not funny. What am I going to do?”
He gave that darn French shrug. “Tell her what happened.Thea, Brooke loves you. She will understand and be happy for you.”
Thea knew that. But finding her wedding dress was one of the tasks in Brooke’s day planner. It was important to her. “It’s not that simple.”
Leaning closer, he gave her a warm, mesmerizing kiss before saying, “Do you want me to go with you?”
She let out a massive breath. “No, I have to do this. But thank you for offering. Maybe you can have a glass of wine ready for me when I get home. I think I am going to need it.”
Another passionate kiss had her slumping against him. “You are becoming so French,ma Thea. First a celebration with my mother today, which must have involved champagne...”
“We had wine at lunch too! I know. I’m becoming a regular boozer.”
He loosened the knot of his tie, the sexy act distracting her a little. “I do not know this word.”
“A lush, a drunkard, a?—”
“I see the picture. Thea, you must drink much more in France to be given such names. I think you are safe.”
