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“It’s okay to be a mess.”
“No, I don’t want to be a mess. That’s why I don’t… that’s why I can’t…”
I sighed as I sat next to her. “That’s why you don’t want people to hear you cry. Sasha said it downstairs—you’re so put-together until you feel extreme emotions.”
Irritation glittered in her gaze. I couldn’t help laughing at the extreme pout accentuating her lips.
“And a brat, too,” I added. “My gods, it’s adorable, though.”
“No, it’s not,” she grumbled while turning away. But I could see the smile sneaking into her little pout. “You’re being rude.”
“What’s rude is you haven’t bothered eating more of these pastries when Charlotte clearly whipped them up for you.”
She looked at me. “Well, they’re for you, too.”
“Will it make you feel better if I have one?”
She nodded.
“You know what would go great with these?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Coffee.”
She grinned. “I can make it.”
“No,” I said while holding her shoulder to keep her from standing up. “I’ll make it. Keep resting.”
“But I—”
I fixed an authoritative glare on her that kept her frozen on the bed. “I want you to stay here and think about what we’re going to do next about this whole thing.”
“Well, I figured that was the end of the line.” She played with her hair nervously. “I didn’t think you wanted to keep working together.”
“You called us a team,” I told her as I headed toward the kitchen. “So, let’s act like a team.”
Chapter 24 - Rose
The decadent aroma of coffee slithered around my nose, making my eyelids flutter rapidly. Once the scent had climaxed, Matéo appeared with two mugs, handing one of them to me. He sat across from me and lifted a scone from the plate.
I bit into my pastry and practically melted. There was enough butter in this batch to clog up my heart, but I didn’t even care. The fact that Matéo was eating with me—and hadn’t at all discouraged me from eating my feelings—was more comforting than he likely realized.
Still, I felt like crap. “I’m sorry I called you a murderer.”
“Well, if you were talking to me thinking that I was Arnaud…”
That sentence didn’t sound great. “Do you think he did something?”
“I don’t know, Rose. I have no idea what’s going on. This is all news to me.”
“Do you remember anything from when you lived with your family?”
He chewed thoughtfully on his scone, a few crumbs sticking to his lower lip. When he licked them away, my eyelids fluttered once more.
He sighed. “I was thinking about the things my mother told me before we were attacked.”
“What did she say?”
