Page 106 of Sawyer
Sawyer couldn’t imagine starting the new year off better.
Partying among friends with his girl.
When they finally arrived after seeing River off—as he’d mentioned, he had a beautiful woman he planned to drop in on—they’d headed over to the party. The apartment was small, like most Paris ones were, comprised of two floors, and after taking the death-defying circular stairs to the salon, he’d told them the news, which had everyone embracing them and kissing them. Sawyer couldn’t stop laughing. Even Axel had hugged him, saying New Year’s brought out the happy fool in everyone.
Dean had certainly gotten the memo. His checklist T-shirt was next level, and he’d already used a blue Sharpie to mark offKiss the most beautiful girl at the party;Drink three glasses of champagne; andDance like it’s 1999—that last part had been truly embarrassing. Prince deserved better, Sawyer had told him, which hadn’t dimmed his friend’s crazy spirit one bit. In fact, Dean and Jacqueline had climbed out onto the narrow roof to dance, saying it was too hot and crowded inside.
Phoebe had been game. Sawyer? Notso much. “I’ve finally got the life I want. I’m not tempting tragedy by doing something stupid and falling to my death on the Paris sidewalks.”
“Good point!” Phoebe exclaimed as they danced in the very warm, very crowded apartment. “You are known for your prudence. I promise to shake things up, but only in ways that don’t lead to death and dismemberment.”
“That’s a relief.” He matched her moves, nearly laughing because she was the kind of dancer who needed space. She probably didn’t like a guy leading either. Independent. That was his girl. But he was good with that.
“I’m totally doing a New Year’s T-shirt checklist next year,” she told him. “Brainstorming now gives me time to decide how I want things to go. Planning is sometimes essential to create the life we want, you know.”
He did. He’d come to Paris with a plan to devote one year to painting, giving it his all. His mind rewound to that first conversation he’d had with Thea about Operation Sawyer as he’d painted by the Seine. She’d told him he needed to find his own recipe for a delicious life with its essential ingredients. The woman in front of him had been one of them. Self-confidence had been another, and the struggle to gain it was something he’d certainly shared with Thea. The help of his roommates and Nanine had always lifted him to greater heights, too, of course. But most of all, he’d learned to believe in himself and his talent. To claim his greatness and enjoy the process.
“What are you thinking?” Phoebe swayed with him as a slower song came on. “You look like the pensive professor. Which I find very hot, by the way.”
He tightened his hand on her waist as he brought their bodies closer together, their faces inches apart. Because he wanted to see the light in her eyes, a light that helped him find his true north when he felt lost and unsure. “About how much things have changed since I came back to Paris.Everything’s turned out better than I could have imagined. Voltaire was right.”
She nestled closer, their bodies brushing. “I hear a quote coming. Lay it on me, Horatio.”
How lucky was he to have found a woman who not only welcomed his love for quotes but shared it? “This saying has always given me hope.For since everything was made for a purpose, it follows that everything was made for the best purpose.”
Laying her head in the crook of his neck, she whispered, “That gives me hope too. Thank you. Remind me of that on the days when starting fresh seems like another vast wasteland I won’t be able to cross to greener valleys.”
His heart clutched at the beautiful way she expressed her feelings. Yes, they were so well suited. He thanked God or whoever was in charge—if such a being existed—for bringing them together. And he pledged he would be her muse for this coming journey if and when he could, like she had been for him. “Who said that, my rose?”
She lifted her face and traced his jaw. “I did. You know, I’ve always wanted to write a book of poetry.”
“I think you’d be brilliant at it.” He caressed the line of her neck as he tangled his hand in the lush mass of her hair. “You do love literature. Maybe the literary arts are calling you. It was what you studied at Oxford, and you do put on a great Phoebe Theater, I might add.”
Her smile spread across her face like the first rays of sunrise. “That is a wonderful notion. If I do the pop-up galleries, it would allow me to broaden my range. Why not host pop-up theater as well? Oh, Horatio, life feels so ripe with possibilities.”
“Doesn’t it though? Hey, Brooke! Hey, Axel! What do you know about pop-up theater?”
The couple danced closer, narrowly evading the edge of the coffee table. “Small productions with good scripts,” Brooke replied, her Type A mind moving quickly if thethoughtful pursing of her lips was any indication. “Entertainment that’s new and hot is always a success.”
“Shakespeare’s never really been something I’ve seen much of in France,” Phoebe commented. “Maybe it’s time to re-introduce Paris to one of the classics.”
Sawyer suddenly couldn’t stop laughing. They all stared at him. When he finally pulled himself together, he couldn’t help but grin. “You aren’t going to believe this. I’ve just remembered the most amazing coincidence. Something I’d forgotten until this very moment.”
“What?” Phoebe asked excitedly, caressing the line of his spine.
“Voltaire was the first to translate Shakespeare into French.”
Even Brooke puffed out a laugh. “You would know something like that. If Dean wasn’t doing the chicken out on the roof—something I think his neighbors won’t likely forget—he’d call it kismet.”
Yes, he so would. “Hey! Where is Kyle?”
Brooke worried her lip. “He said we needed more champagne, but I think he was feeling like the odd man out when we all started dancing. Madison still isn’t here, and it’s nearly midnight. She’s got to come, right? I’m already tied up in knots thinking about them being so weird around each other. I don’t know what to do about it.”
“He and Madison must work things out themselves,elskede.” Axel put his arm around Brooke. “I know it is difficult, but they will navigate it.”
“Watching them sit so stiffly next to each other earlier nearly had me cracking the proverbial whip to get them together.”
“She was fighting tears after they left, so of course, she’d reach for the whip,” Axel commented with a curve of his lips. “She is not too different than Madison with her cleaver.”
