Page 48 of Enemies to French Kisses
“Be right back,” Natalie whispers. “Coming, Mrs. Poitiers-du-Marechal!”
“Someone’s name is really Poitiers-du-Marechal?” I whisper to Olivier.
He shrugs. “When you own three-quarters of a Pacific island, you can call yourself what you like.”
When I first met Olivier I was—okay, at first I was struck by the comet of his gorgeousness—but then right after I was full-on not impressed with his messing around with my bestie’s emotional state.
But the man has grown up since then, and I can respect anyone who grows. Even if he can be cheekier than a baby goat.
“Bonne chance, Laura,” Olivier says in that smooth French accent of his, nothing like Marc who must have learned English from dubbed movies. “I must attend to a private event with the Ambassador of Senegal, but I wish you and the hubby all the best.” He winks and tosses out a million-dollar smile. Cheeky goat.
“Sorry, Laur-ster,” Natalie rushes back, “the guests are in fine form and need a whole variety of special meals today. I’ve got to get back to things here.” She starts to walk away but I can’t let her. I’m floundering and need guidance from my bestie.
“You can’t leave me high and dry! Marc is in a fragile state, and I’m not far off. I don’t see how I can possibly make this right.” I grab at my head because it just might fall off. “I’m dealing with a critical situation!”
Natalie trots back to the podium and leans forward so quickly that I recoil to avoid getting her face in my chin.
“Are you in mortal danger?”
“No, but—”
“Are you being fed?”
“Yes, but—”
“Is Marc beinginappropriatewith you?”
“All things considered, he’s been a perfect gentleman, but—”
Natalie places her hands on my shoulders. “Laura, hang in there. If it gets to be too much, you know we’ve got your back. The situation is super weird, but you’ve got all the tools you need to get through this. And frankly, we all know it’s time you unplugged from your laptop.”
“But—”
“But nada. This is the lunch rush and Olivier’s off hobnobbing. Don’t you see who’s over there?”
I squint. “Wait, that’s—”
“Yep, two steps from Hollywood royalty. Gotta go, but you’re going to be just fine. You know I love you!”
“Me too,” I whisper but she’s already amongst the masses.
I better get home anyhow. Marc enjoys sipping tea together in the midafternoon and it’s a relief to see him that calm.
It’s very confusing that I know this about him.
Maybe I’ll pick up a few “navette” biscuits on the way. They smell like manna from heaven, and more importantly, Marc loves them.
Wait, I know that too?
Pretty soon I’ll be laying out his clothes for him in the morning and stocking the cabinet with his favorite shampoo.
Okay, so I know the man likes yummy biscuits. Weirder than knowing it, I don’t mind doing it. Weirder than doing it… Iwantto do it.
Oh my ever loving word, I’ve got some feelings involved.
That has to stop—right—now.
CHAPTER20
