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"How about you take a few things. Your clothes, toiletries, and shoes like you would if you were going on vacation. You're still going to be coming to here every day, so—"
"And this place isfarfrom the Délices d'Elsa." It was convenient to live in an apartment on the floor above my business. I rolled out of bed early in the morning and could be in my kitchen within minutes. Now, it would take me twenty-plus minutes to get there by Metro.
I had wondered if Duncan could live with me, but seeing his place, there was no way he'd want to live in a one-bedroom apartment that looked like stoned hippies had decorated it. Bohemia chic didn't seem like his style.
"Stop bitching and moaning. Come by, have a glass of wine, clear your head, and grab some of your things from the apartment."
"I can't drink, I'm pregnant," I mourned.
"Shit! Yeah. So, have a pastry instead."
I smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "I’ll come by in a little bit. You'll help me pack?"
"Anytime, Els."
I hung up and took a deep breath, looking around the room again. Thierry was right. This was my reality now, and I had to find a way to navigate it. I grabbed my bag, ready to make the trip back to the Marais.
I left Duncan’s apartment feeling the sting of Madame Lefèvre’s sneer. As I told her I was going out for a while, her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a disdainful smirk. I had no idea why she seemed to dislike me so much, but I wasn’t about to confront her. Confrontation wasn’t my style; I preferred to sidestep toxic people and let them fade out of my life. Besides, I had bigger things to worry about.
I took the Metro and then walked from the station.
Back in my neighborhood, I was immediately at ease. The narrow, winding streets ofLe Maraisfelt like an embrace, so different from the wide, imposing avenues near Duncan’s apartment. The air was filled with the mingling scents of freshlybaked bread and blooming flowers from the nearby market stalls.
As I approached Délices d'Elsa, I saw Thierry pulling down the shutters, his face lighting up when he saw me. "Els! Perfect timing. Just finished closing up."
"Bonsoir, Thierry," I greeted him with a hug, the tension in my shoulders easing. "Thanks for staying and closing up."
"Not a problem." He gave me a warm smile. "Let's go up and get your things."
We headed up the narrow staircase that led to my. It wasn't very big, but it wasmine, filled with mismatched furniture, colorful throw pillows, and vibrant art pieces I’d picked up from local artists. Potted plants lined the windowsills, and fairy lights were strung haphazardly across the ceiling and thericketybalcony, giving the space a whimsical, cozy feel. It was the complete opposite of Duncan’s place—chaotic and full of life, just the way I liked it.
"He doesn’t talk to me, which is frustrating," I told Thierry as I packed clothes into a duffel bag. "I've tried, but he's just hard to get through to. That's not how he wasthatnight."
"Maybe you should give him a blow job?" Thierry suggested.
I laughed as heat snaked through me.Thatnight had been magic. God! But it had been. His mouth, his hands, his body—hard and warm had taken me over completely. He had taught me what pleased him but also how to arouse him; how to take him in my mouth, deep into my throat.
But the magic of that night was that I knew I had enthralled him as well.
"You smell like vanilla." He nuzzled his nose against my pussy. "And taste like fucking sugar, ma douce."My sweet!
"You think we have a chance for arealmarriage?" I folded a white skirt.
Thierry stuffed a pair of sneakers into another bag. "If you can convince him to open up."
"He just left me at his place andran," I grumbled. "Seriously, who does that?"
"A child?"
"He's like a decade older than me," I protested.
"You know, age has nothing to do with maturity, right?" Thierry set the bag of shoes down and came to me.
He took my small hands in his large ones. He was a few years older than me, and despite being six feet two inches tall and built thanks to his passion for soccer, he had a warm and inviting presence that instantly put people at ease.
It didn't hurt that he was damn good-looking with his ebony dark smooth, flawless skin, captivating black eyes that sparkled with intelligence and kindness, and infectious positivity. His hair was cropped short but he'd had his dreadlocks phase as well.
"You know I love you," he began.
