Page 77 of Brooke
His audible snort had her smiling. “That English phrase brings to mind a damsel in distress, which you are most assuredly not, my Brooke. Have a good talk with your dear Nanine. I will see you soon, my love.”
His love. She walked over with her heart sighing in her chest to kiss him tenderly on the lips. She’d prepared for this moment, and she channeled her inner bravery to execute it. Holding his gaze, she caressed the strong jaw and brow line. “I like you calling me that. I thought I would give you an endearment as well.Elskede.I hope I didn’t butcher your language.”
His sculpted features turned somber. “No, your pronunciation was quite nice. You will forgive me if I find myself feeling a bit raw. I’d never thought to hear you call me beloved in my own tongue. It…pleases me very much, Brooke.”
God, there were moments when the love she had for him was so powerful, she felt the urge to cry tears and smile all at once. “You use endearments in English and French all the time with me. I…wanted to say something in your native language. Axel, it’s sometimes a little weird and uncomfortable that I’m not able to communicate with you in your own language. Your first one. I can’t promise I can become fluent in Norwegian, but I want you to know I’ve started learning some simple words and phrases—although I fear my accent is completemerde.”
He stroked her cheek, his fingers resplendent with love. “Iwill teach you all you want to know. I…thank you, Brooke. No one has ever expressed such love for me such as this.”
She let out a huge sigh. “Learning an entire language felt a bit intimidating. But then I realized I needed to start small. Calling you my beloved seemed a good place to start.”
“Another thing you should know in case you do not already,” he said, smiling softly with the warm blue light she loved in his eyes. “We do not have a word for girlfriend, like you do in English. When we call someone our beloved, it is only when our feelings run deep and true. So here is your first lesson in the most important phrases I wish to say to you.Jeg elsker deg.That means I love you.”
Her diaphragm tightened as she rolled it back to him, determined not to mutilate the words with her horrible accent.“Jeg elsker deg.”
“Very good.” Her reward was a kiss. “But this is the phrase that sums it all up for me so pay attention.Du er mitt alt.” His eyes seemed to turn sky blue as he smiled down at her.
“What does it mean?”
He brought her closer to him, his large hands grounding her to him. “It means,You are my everything.Because you are, my Brooke.”
That darn rawness rolled through her again, and the kiss she gave him was filled with every bit of aching and longing inside her. When she lifted her head, she refocused her brain and brought back his words.“Du er mitt alt, Axel.”
He pressed his head against her cheek, entwining her in his love. “Thank you. Now go. Before I decide we can turn to our own private happy hour.”
She thought about it for a second before he shook his head.
“You do not have enough time for what I have in mind, my Brooke. And your Nanine is waiting. Go.”
He was right. Heart full, she touched her mouth and put her kiss on his lips. “I’m going. See you soon,Elskede.”
On her way to Nanine’s, she almost texted Dean that she was learning love words in Norwegian. But knowing he’d only bring Ivar up, she simply held her phone against her stomach and watched her favorite city roll by as her cab drove through the dark, bustling Parisian streets to Nanine’s.
When she arrived, she surveyed the entrance. The awning was lit with soft lights under its burgundy frame, and even in the low light, the windows sparkled. Servers in white uniforms were setting up tables, each piece of cutlery perfectly set down on the white tablecloths she’d found for Nanine’s with the greatest intention.
She knew the training had gone well the past couple of weeks, although Madison hadn’t given many details. Kyle had dropped in from time to time as a general manager of sorts, but she’d asked him to keep away today, giving her and her staff space to prepare for the big night. Brooke imagined Madison wanted to be totally locked and loaded, and Kyle’s presence might affect that.
Thea had risen early and gone to the restaurant to bake the accompanying breads that would be served with the meal before the main staff arrived, as she and Madison had agreed she would do until her bakery opened.
Everyone at PRG had done their thing. Now it was time to let Madison run with her dream…
“Has Nanine’s opened again?” she heard someone ask in an unmistakably British accent.
Turning, she noted a couple in their fifties holding hands. “Not for another week. Tonight is a private party.”
“You seem to be in the know,” the man said, pointing toward it. “Are you associated with the restaurant?”
Her heart started beating strong and true. “Yes, I am—with Nanine, of course, and my roommates are as well.”
Suddenly, she found herself telling them the short versionof her involvement. With every piece of the story, she wove a tapestry of light inside herself.
“You are very lucky to be a part of Nanine’s,” the woman said, tears shining in her eyes. “It’s always been the place we’ve come for big anniversaries since our honeymoon. This trip we’re celebrating our twentieth. We were devastated it wasn’t open. When we walked by, we were hoping something had changed. You know how Paris is.”
“Dates and times aren’t drawn in the sand.” She laughed. “No, they aren’t open yet. I’m sorry. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll write down your names. When you come to Paris again, we’ll send you out a dessert. On the house. For being such faithful customers.”
They beamed. “Oh, thank you,” they both echoed.
She took down their names in her phone and said goodbye to them. Somehow, she knew Nanine would approve, Madison probably as well, and dammit if she didn’t strut all the way to the back door, feeling like part owner in something really special.
