“When are you going to tell Kyle?” Brooke said hollowly.
“Hey! I haven’t even decided if I’m going to pursue it. I just heard today. Other offers might come in too.”
Brooke tapped the table with her fingernail. “There are plenty of restaurants in Paris to consider.”
“Except Dassault might be the kind of bastard who’d have you blackballed forever simply because of your relationship with Nanine,” the always-too-smart Sawyer interjected.
She finally curled over, knowing she couldn’t withhold the truth. “Nanine believes our association could be damning if I remain in Paris.”
“Meaning you couldn’t win a star here.” Sawyer made a fist and slammed it on the table as Brooke’s green eyes turned overbright. “Sometimes I really want to bring back the time-honored tradition of dueling. I swear, I’d slap my glove in Dassault’s face and demand satisfaction.”
Who needed a cleaver when they had a Sawyer? “Thanks, Doc.”
The heaviness in Madison’s chest was as dense as pastry weights, so she rose slowly out of her chair. “I need to get back to Kyle and talk to him. Thanks for chasing me down. Especially in the Louboutins.”
Brooke didn’t crack a smile. She stood and came around, gripping Madison’s shoulders before crushing her in a hug. “I’m going to fight like a dog alongside Kyle, but if we can’t turn the tide like Nanine fears, I agree that you have to consider going. I know how much the star means to you. Kyle will understand. In fact, I’ll bet he’ll go with you. Maybe we could figure out another working arrangement for him.”
Her arms went limp and fell to her sides as Brooke stepped away, wiping at her eyes. Go with her…
Then he wouldn’t be following his dream. How could he? Paris was his home. He was the head of The Paris Roommates Group. The star wasn’t his dream—it was hers, and she couldn’t ask him to give up everything for her.
Sawyer stopped her mind from spinning like a KitchenAid mixer by embracing her gently. “I’ll fight too—however I can. Phoebe will have more ideas.”
All of these people fighting for her. Maybe a few rainbows could break out in her skies, after all. But forget about unicorns. She didn’t trust those horned suckers.
“Thanks, Doc.”
He cleared his throat, looking very much like the grave professor as he pushed his spectacles up his nose. “I had a quote come to mind.Life is a shipwreck, but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats; life is a desert, but we can transform our corner into a garden.I wish you all luck.”
Brooke gave a valiant smile. Sawyer joined her. Shipwrecks, huh. Yeah, that was pretty apt.
God, they all knew they were doomed.
When Madison finally arrived home, she knew Kyle was somewhere in the house since his gray winter coat was hanging in the closet. She leaned in and put her nose in it, inhaling his spicy male scent. Her eyes burned, and for a moment, she thought she might lose it.
Then she heard a little bark and the clip of toenails on the marble floor. Sucking in a couple of steadying breaths, she turned and smiled as another friend greeted her with complete and absolute love.
Yeah, she did have rainbows in her sky.
Tucking Spike to her chest, she went to find Kyle, but he wasn’t in the kitchen or upstairs. The Romance Shrine wasn’t lit, and that put even more sand in her already thick throat.
Well, she could do something about that, dammit.
She found a fire ignitor and the bulk candles in the kitchen drawers and headed to the stairs. Spike barked madly while she lit the endless stream of votives until she was seeing spots, keeping him out of danger by using the commands Kyle had taught him. God, he was such a good dog.
When Kyle still didn’t emerge from his den, she looked down at Spike. “So, Daddy’s going to play hardball, is he? Well, so can I. Come on.”
She picked him up, and he cuddled against her chest, snuffling a yawn. Heading to their Dirty Dancing Club, she hit the lights and put on the loudest, mostcan’t ignore meplaylist in the history of Latin music. If Celia Cruz didn’t bring him down, she was going to drag him down.
Stroking Spike as he dozed, she waited, her heart pulsing with the beat of the music. She went over to the bar and poured out two mezcals.
The clock ticked.
Some part of her was dying. The pain in her chest had reached a new and uncomfortable height. Onion choppingwasn’t going to cut it or disguise the waterworks threatening to break her own Hoover Dam.
Then he finally walked in.
He was still wearing his suit, although the fabric looked a little wrinkled. His hair wasn’t perfect like usual. He’d probably mussed it up dragging his hand through his hair. She set Spike down. He toddled over to Kyle and pawed at his legs, but Kyle didn’t pick him up. Only gave him an absent pat on the head and a whispered command, which had him plopping down on his haunches and laying his head on the floor.
