Chapter 16 Noemi
When we enter the charming little bistro, Julien and the team are already there. To my great relief, Jean-Michel—my third least favorite person after Hitler and Bertrand—is absent.
Fingers crossed he doesn’t show tonight.
I introduce Melissa to the guys and their plus-ones, and then to Nageurs’ main sponsor, Sebastian Darcy, and his wife Diane.
“You’re the goalie’s oldest brother, right?” I ask him after we exchange cheek kisses.
He nods.
“Just out of curiosity,” I say, “what’s your connection with this bistro?”
“The owner, Jeanne, is a good friend.” Diane answers for him. “Come on, you’ve got to meet her!”
She marches to the bar area.
Melissa and I follow her with Julien and Sebastian in tow.
Behind the counter, a perky young woman is chatting with Lucas, Valentin—the smiley Nageurs singleton I particularly wanted Melissa to meet tonight—and with another guy who turns out to be Jeanne’s hubby.
When I hear what Lucas is saying, my heart sings with joy.
Jean-Michel called him this morning to announce he’ll be joining another club starting January.
I glance at Julien who looks as if Lucas just announced he had irrefutable proof of Santa’s existence.
This Christmas season just got even better.
A short time later, the group around the counter has swelled to over a dozen people.
We’re talking about the club, and about the new changes Lucas will have to make.
Like recruiting someone to replace Jean-Michel, for starters.
He also needs to find a new hole-set who’s as capable as Zach. The club’s captain recently announced his plan to retire at the end of the season so that he can focus on his business and spend more time with his family.
In addition, Lucas must find a new publicist to fill Isabelle’s shoes. The mother of his adorable twins went to work for a media company after her maternity leave, despite Lucas’s and the team’s pleas to stay with the club.
With a Kir Royale sparkler in her hand, Isabelle points out, for the umpteenth time, that she was ready for a new challenge.
Except no one’s buying it.
“You just don’t want to call your husband ‘boss’,” I say, voicing the general consensus.
The tiniest of smiles curves her mouth before she lifts her Kir to her lips and takes a slo-mo sip.
While we’re discussing all of that, I catch Valentin staring at Melissa. In fact, he’s doing more than just stare. Having discreetly edged to stand by her side, he bends his head toward her every now and then to whisper a funny comment in her ear. She giggles and whispers back.
Her cheeks are flushed, and so are his.
I can’t vouch for their future together, but Melissa’s prolonged dating hiatus might come to an end before New Year’s Eve.
“So, you guys specialize in providing legal aid to those who can’t afford a lawyer, right?” Valentin looks at Melissa, then at me, and then at Melissa again, admiration in his eyes.
“Yes.” She flashes him a proud smile. “But we do more than that, seeing as Noemi is a brilliant defense attorney!”
I wave her complement off, but I can’t help blushing a little.
“We represented three whistle-blowers this year,” Melissa said excitedly. “Their companies had fired them in retaliation.”
Valentin offers her a stuffed olive on a toothpick. “And?”
“Noemi won all three cases,” Melissa says, taking it from his hand.
He turns to me and drops his head to his chest. “Respect.”
“And, since September,” Melissa plows on, “our office joined the Paris Bar Solidarity Scheme, and Noemi has been doing pro bono work at the legal clinics they run.”
Jeanne taps Julien’s shoulder. “Sounds like you married a saint. The Mother Teresa of Paris.”
I choke on my drink and go into a coughing fit.
Julien rubs my back before turning to Jeanne. “Nah. She’s no saint.”
“Permanently disqualified,” I manage between two coughs.
Julien’s eyes crinkle with mirth as he adds, “My wife is way more badass than Mother Teresa. She’s Superwoman slash Daredevil.”
Tickled pink, I grin.
Julien’s teammates nod in approval and smile, interpreting his comment as praise for my vigilante legal eagle skills.
I have no doubt he was also referring to those skills.
In addition to the other ones, which earned me the Superwoman title.
He takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze, before lacing his fingers through mine.
I return the squeeze.
Without needing to look at each other, we both know exactly what our nonverbal exchange signifies:
A brilliant defense attorney will be going Superwoman again tonight.
And the guy with the rose tattoo can’t wait.
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