AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I smiled as I turned and tucked my dual tube stain and gloss in my small gold bag, along with the compact I’d already put in it, the lip liner, and mints, because this was New Orleans and Melly. Dinner was going to be amazing, but it might lead to unpleasant breath. It was a house party, so I’d take the bag with me, set it somewhere so I didn’t have to carry it, but it’d be closer than running up the stairs for touch ups and breath duty.
“Sah,” Remy warned.
“Right, right, I’ll try to be less awesome. It’ll be hard, but for you, I’ll do it.”
“Jesus,” Remy murmured, but I could hear the amusement.
I turned back and asked, “So, do I get two escorts?”
And to that, I got two answers.
My husband: “Absolutely.”
My son: “Totally.”
CHAPTER 22
Mantle of Alpha Protector
Wyn
Sabre sacrificed making his big entrance in order to be at his mother’s side, and we arrived downstairs to find Manon, Yves and Guillaume mingling with not only Jason, Clare and Natalya, but also Beau, his wife Katy, and their two sons, Julien and Louis.
And I knew Sabre had only been trying to keep the tone light, but it couldn’t be missed that he wasn’t wrong about how he looked, or how a certain member of our ensemble had blossomed.
Therefore, when we arrived, Nat took one look at the young man, who, if memory served, she last saw as a boy of sixteen, and that look took in all of him and lingered. And I glanced at a girl I last saw when she was thirteen, who then had pale skin, freckles, chubby cheeks and dark hair, but now was a dead ringer for Anne Hathaway.
And an iffy night got iffier.
Because not only did we have that to contend with, Julien and Louis were eyeing Manon in a way that Yves and Sabre appeared to want to shove their teeth down their throats.
And Colette had not arrived.
Then again, no one stole Colette’s thunder.
Not Sabre.
Definitely not me.
So as the adults became reacquainted, the young adults chose their battlegrounds, this even if Jules and Lou had always been thick as thieves with Sah and Yves, with Jules one year older than Sah, and Lou two years younger.
But Manon had grown up too.
And interestingly, it didn’t escape Sabre’s attention, Nat’s chosen position was to make an impossible attempt to become one with the cream walls and bloused damask of the draperies.
Which of course (although years had passed, a woman never forgets such things) signals the scent to a predator.
And Sabre had an excellent sense of smell.
On this thought, I wandered with the martini he had shaken for me back to Guillaume and asked sotto voce to my father-in-law, “Do they still duel at dawn in New Orleans?”
To my delight, in his genteel way, he burst out laughing.
“Ma chérie,” he started when he’d controlled his hilarity. “At least Sabre has a second if he should have to avenge Manon’s honor. Poor Jason will have to turn to Beau. And Beau will be caught between Jason and Remy.”
“Manon has a boyfriend,” I assured him.
“Is Sabre not taken?”
I shook my head.
“He’s about to be,” Guillaume remarked.
I took a sip and watched my son leave the protection of his sister to his younger brother so he could approach a wary beauty who had no clue she was beautiful, then watched that beauty nearly knock over an etched glass urn as she sought escape.
“His mother and I wanted Remy to be around people he’s comfortable with,” Guillaume murmured into his sidecar. “What a lovely added bonus to the evening’s entertainment.”
I slid my gaze to Remy, who was focused not on Sabre, but on Jules and Lou checking out his daughter, but he felt my attention and he looked to me.
He shook his head in fatherly resignation.
I stifled a giggle with a sip of my martini.
Guillaume made an odd noise beside me, so I turned to him.
And my heart squeezed.
When he caught my eyes on him, he said, “Suffice it to say, I’m utterly delighted that whatever issues you were having have been ironed out.”
“Suffice it to say, I would be delighted if my husband and his father did the same thing during this trip.”
My words surprised him so much, at first, he didn’t cover it.
Then he said, “We’re all here for Colette.”
“No,” I refuted quietly. “We’re all here for the both of you.”
“I’m sure he’s shared,” he noted just as quietly (my guess, referring to what happened at the breakfast table), before taking another sip of his drink and finishing, “And I must apologize for my behavior earlier. It was vulgar.” This definitely referred to him shouting at Colette.
“You’re allowed to be human,” I replied.
“Am I?” he again spoke into his drink.
Wow.
Damn.
Because…yes.
That was a good question.
One that surely every parent at some point in their lives asks themselves.
