Page 29 of Host for the Holidays
“He was probably just being frugal.”
I shake my head at Rémy’s generous but weak excuse for Josh. My eyes glaze over as those pictures flash across my vision. “For all he knew based on those listing pictures, he was sending me to be Taken. With a capital t.”
“You Americans and that movie,” Rémy says. He stands up and goes over to put his laptop back in the bag. “Given how often it comes up, you’d think fewer of you would come to Paris.”
“What can I say? We’re adrenaline junkies.”
He smiles as he slips the bag over his head so that the strap crosses his body, providing a totally unnecessary delineation between his pecs. “Have you changed your mind about helping with the apartment, then?”
“Are you kidding?” I put a hand over my heart. “It is my duty as both a photographer and a decent human being to make sure those pictures are forever buried in the black hole of cyberspace. The first thing we are doing when you get home today is sitting down and making an inventory of what we need to do to this place. We’re gonna make it shine.”
FOURTEEN
RÉMY
“I cannot believewe are shopping at IKEA in the middle of Paris.” Madi looks around like she might see the Eiffel Tower pop up around the corner we’re about to turn. She’s got her camera slung across her chest. It hangs on her hip as she pushes the cart and follows the arrows that guide customers through the IKEA maze.
We walked here from the apartment, and I almost told Madi to leave her camera when she went to grab it. I’m glad I didn’t. Even though our route here was pretty ordinary for me, Madi was wide-eyed the entire time, and she probably snapped more pictures in that twenty minutes than I have taken of Paris in the past ten years. It’s weird that it doesn’t bother me. Usually, when I see tourists with a camera fixed to their face or walking like zombies with their phone in front of them, I can’t help an eye roll.
The way Madi does things is different, though. Maybe it’s that she’s not capturing these photos to brag to her friends on social media. It’s like she takes so much delight in what she’s seeing that she can’t fully take it in. And that’s when the camera comes out.
“What do you think of these?” She stops next to a set of curtains with thick, vertical black and white stripes. The cart is already pretty full, but we’ve crossed most things off of the list I’m holding.
When I got home from work, Madi had already made an inventory, which she had me look over. I check it now, but there’s no mention of a second set of curtains anywhere.
“They’re nice,” I say. “You want to switch out the ones we already chose?” We picked a set of curtains for the living room area a few minutes ago. Madi’s got great taste. We agreed on a color scheme that’s neither too masculine nor too feminine. I can’t quite picture how it’s all going to look once we’re done, but I have a feeling it’ll be a whole lot better than the way things are right now. It sure as heck can’t be worse.
She runs the sample curtains between her fingers. “No, I think the ones we chose are perfect for the living room.” She looks up at me with those pretty brown eyes. She bites her lip. “Since we got here, though, I’ve had . . . a vision.”
I raise my brows. “That sounds serious.”
“Oh, it is. I think the room I’m in could be really endearing instead of . . .” She pauses like she’s afraid of choosing a word.
“Sinister,” I offer.
She scrunches her nose and tilts her head to the side. “It really is, isn’t it? That dinky lamp casts some eerie shadows on the curtains, which already give off creepy circus vibes.” She looks down at the curtains in her hand. “But after seeing all the options here, I’m convinced it could be a cute little space with some adjustments.”
“Like those.”
She nods. “I mean, having a curtain around a toilet isn’t ideal, even if it’s a really cute curtain, but we have to work with what we’ve got, right? Either way, that dingy red velvet is not helping the situation. I think these would look great, though. They would photograph so much better, too. Add in some small air plants by the window, a new bedspread, decorative pillows, and a couple other items to make it feel more homey, and I can see people booking it for the charm alone. People love tiny things as long as they’re aesthetically pleasing.”
I smile at her teasingly. “Is yourchambre de bonnegrowing on you, Madi?”
“Growing on me like the sketchy mold by the window,” she says. Her eyes narrow. “What you saiddidmean my servant room, right?”
I chuckle. “Yes.Chambre de bonnemeans a maid’s room. Why don’t you grab a few things to make it look the way you’ve envisioned while I run over there? I still haven’t found an indoor drying rack for the clothes, and the apartment really should have one.”
It’s true. But I also want to see if the mention of drying clothes gives me any hint whether Madi knows her bra is dangling outside of my window. I noticed it this morning as the sun came up, illuminating it from behind with a ridiculous halo.
The slight widening of Madi’s eyes tells me she is indeed aware of it.
“Yeah, yeah,” she hurries to say as she turns away. “Of course.”
She is super embarrassed, and for some reason that cracks me up. It’s not like I’ve never seen a bra before.
Okay, yes, I shut my blinds because my eyes keep veering toward it every time I set foot in my room, but whatever. I’m fine. And I’m not going to bring it up if it’s going to embarrass her.
I make my way toward the drying racks, and my phone vibrates in my pocket.
