CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
After coming back from his morning outing with Spike, Kyle found Madison chopping peppers and onions like aTop Chefcandidate in the final minute of competition.
Head down. Total focus. Warp speed.
He told himself not to be alarmed. She was upset. She cut onions to cope. Dealing with burning eyes seemed like a small sacrifice.
She made him an epic BBQ-inspired breakfast but barely picked at her own food. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, so he let her lapse into quiet.
Later, when he suggested a walk, she took his hand and practically charged out into the cold winter streets as if she desperately needed to walk something off.
She had a lot on her mind. He knew that. But they couldn’t shut out the world today.
There was still a heaviness in the air between them when they arrived at Sawyer and Phoebe’s.
Their friends had a smaller setup, but they’d creatively set up low tables in their family room, along with pillows for everyone to sit on.
Seeing their roommates and their Plus Ones felt good, but he knew everyone was watching them. Including Nanine.
When she and Carl arrived, she sought him out first and kissed him warmly before embracing him with the kind of sweetness no other human being on earth had ever given him. He leaned in, hoping she would whisper something about the situation in his ear. But there was nothing.
Only her understanding brown eyes and enigmatic smile.
He remembered how she’d told them she would only speak of hurtful things once because the pain was too great for her to speak of it again. Was this one of those times? Had she spoken to Madison and then closed the door on the topic forever?
“You need another drink,” Phoebe announced, appearing beside him with a bottle of champagne. “I’m your kneeling waiter, a special kind of server for today’s dinner. Anything you need, I’m here for you. Comfortable? Do you need a thicker pillow? Sawyer thought the guys needed more fluff since you don’t have as much padding on your backsides. We ended up flipping a coin since I told him I disagreed. He won, unfortunately.”
Her usual bold, bright spirit made him smile. She wore all orange today—Seville orange, she was quick to point out when Dean joked about it being prison orange—and she’d hugged him like an old friend. “I do need a refill, but this pillow is perfect. I’ll have you know I gave Madison the fluffier pillow when she wasn’t looking.”
“You’re a prince!” She poured the champagne carefully. “No wonder I like you. Madison? More bubbly?”
She paused mid-conversation with Jacqueline to respond with a clippedSure.The two women had started talking about wine the moment they’d sat down. Technical talk. No fun, feel-good talk like the rest of them, he noted. Yeah, she was holding on by a thread.
Kyle turned toward Thea, who was seated on his otherside. She was fingering the stem of her champagne, oddly quiet as well. Not good. He extended his flute. “To your bakery and all of your success.”
Her big brown eyes reminded him of Spike’s when he sensed Kyle had the blues—a rarity for him. But he’d had them plenty since learning the Michelin news.
“Thank you.” Thea took a sip of her champagne before turning toward him on her yellow throw pillow. “I think we need a Drink and Divulge night. I talked to Sawyer earlier. He agrees.”
Jean Luc was observing their conversation, a rather funny picture given he was dressed in one of his usual pinstriped suits while sitting on a purple pillow and drinking champagne. He looked like he was vacationing in Monte Carlo.
“Sure. It’s been a while. Everyone has been busy. We should find a time.”
She took a serious gulp of her bubbly. “How about tonight? After Sunday dinner?”
Concern lit up his nerve endings. “Thea, aren’t you tired?Le Mellieurs des Amisjust opened. You’ve been getting up at three in the morning to start baking. We can do this in a couple of weeks once you’re more settled.”
“Nope.” She plucked at her green skirt. “Tonight. Everyone!”
Conversations continued, so she turned to Jean Luc and started frisking him until she found a Mont Blanc pen in his interior suit pocket. Tapping the pen to her flute didn’t attract the group’s attention like she’d hoped, so she downed her champagne and tapped the glass more aggressively.
“Chérie,I would have found you some cutlery if you’d asked,” Jean Luc said with amusement.
She waved a hand in response and knocked the pen to her empty flute again. “Hey! I’m talking here.”
The others’ conversations didn’t simply halt—they diedlike a book had dropped to the floor. She had their attention now.
