Chapter 20
“You know you didn’t need to bring anything, right?” Calvin says, eyeing the basket of fruit I’m holding like it’s a foreign object.
We’re in the elevator, heading up to his friends’ place.
It is apparently poker night. I told him I didn’t need to come, but he insisted.
He’s leaning back against the wall, his legs casually crossed, looking maddeningly perfect in a simple white shirt and jeans.
It’s such a stark contrast to the suit he almost wore tonight, again.
I’d barely convinced him to tone it down, reminding him that “casual” doesn’t mean “CEO mode.”
“You don’t show up to someone’s house empty-handed,” I reply matter-of-factly, giving him a look. “That’s, like, the first rule of… being polite.”
He smirks and tugs me closer, his hand slipping around my waist as he backs me gently against the wall of the elevator. The basket tilts awkwardly between us, but I barely notice. His other hand trails lazily down my arm until he’s holding my wrist.
“Hmm.” His lips brush my ear. “That so? Because I don’t remember you bringing me anything the first time you came to my place.”
I tilt my head, pretending to think. “Excuse me? I let you try my omelet. That definitely counts.”
His laugh is low and teasing, and he leans in until his lips are a breath away from mine. “Right. Those omelets. Pretty sure they’re what got me hooked in the first place.”
Before I can argue, his mouth claims mine in a kiss that makes my toes curl. It’s soft at first, then deeper, more insistent, his hand tightening on my waist like he’s daring me to forget where we are.
“Calvin!” I laugh against his lips, pulling back enough to scold him. “My lip gloss!”
“So what?” he teases, lips ghosting over my jaw. “I like the taste.”
I try to push him away, giggling as I swipe at his mouth with my free hand. “You are not showing up to friends’ with shiny lips. Hold still!”
But he’s relentless, grinning like a menace as he leans in to steal another kiss. Then another. I twist away, but he just follows.
“You taste like peaches,” he says, voice dropping into that sinful tone that turns my stomach into a fluttery mess. “And you know how crazy I am for peaches.”
“Calvin, stop!” I squeal, laughing too hard to be taken seriously, but just then, the elevator dings and the doors slide open.
Calvin reluctantly pulls back, his breath still brushing against my lips.
His hand comes up, and with the pad of his thumb, he gently swipes the corner of my mouth, smoothing out the smudged gloss as if he’s done it a hundred times before.
His eyes stay fixed on mine, and for a second, the rest of the world falls away.
It’s just us, caught in that quiet, breathless space between almost and too much.
Then someone clears their throat.
We both turn to find Desmond standing just outside the elevator with his arms crossed and a grin that says he saw everything.
“Well, well,” he drawls. “Guess that explains why you two are late.”
“Blame her,” Calvin says smoothly, flashing me a wicked smile before pulling the brother into a quick hug.
I smile despite myself.
“It’s good to see you again, Blair,” Desmond says, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
“You too,” I reply with a grin, only slightly embarrassed.
“About time you two showed up,” someone calls out.
I turn and find a man just as tall as Calvin, maybe taller.
Seriously, is there a height requirement to be in his circle?
At this point, I’m convinced everyone he hangs around with is grown in some secret lab labeled “extra tall, mildly intimidating.” The guy in question wears an easy grin and has an arm slung around a woman with the kind of curls that belong in a shampoo commercial.
“We were starting to think you got lost. Or worse, stuck in a full-blown elevator make-out session,” he adds.
“King,” the woman who looks about my age scolds lightly, nudging him with her elbow, though her smile gives her away. She steps forward, warm and welcoming. “Hi, I’m Inès, and this is Kingsley,” she says, gesturing to her partner. “And these are our friends, Meghan, and her fiancé, Justin.”
Next to them stands a beautiful couple: a tall, handsome Black man holding the hand of a glowing blonde who looks very, very pregnant.
“Nice to meet you all,” I say with a cheerful smile, holding up the basket in my arms. “I brought fruit!”
Inès lights up. “How sweet of you, thank you.”
“And, uh… you can keep the basket,” I add quickly, already regretting how eager that sounded.
Calvin slides a hand to the small of my back, clearly amused. “Blair’s studying fashion in Paris,” he offers, his voice proud in a way that makes my heart skip.
Inès’ eyes widen with delight. “Oh my gosh, really? I’m from Marseille! Where are you studying?”
“The Institute Francais de la Mode,” I say, and her face lights up even more.
“No way, the IFM? That’s incredible! And Paris, it must be such a different experience living there.”
“It really is,” I say. “The energy, the history, the culture… It’s all so inspiring.”
Just as I finish, a small black dog scurries into the room, tail wagging enthusiastically. My eyes immediately go to the dog. “Oh my gosh, who’s this?” I crouch down to scratch behind the dog’s ears.
“That’s our son, Beau,” Inès says with a fond smile.
“He’s adorable,” I coo, giving him chin scratches as his tail wags even harder. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”
“Don’t be fooled,” Justin chimes in with a laugh. “He’s a con artist when it comes to stealing people’s hearts.”
I giggle as Beau gives me an enthusiastic lick on the cheek. “I think it’s working,” I admit.
“Alright,” Desmond interjects, clapping his hands together. His voice is smooth and commanding, yet playful. “Let’s get this party started. I’ve got an hour before I need to leave.”
“Wait,” Meghan pipes up with a mischievous grin. “Why don’t we all have a game night? Trivia, boys versus girls.”
“Oh no,” Justin groans, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Don’t even think about it, cheater.”
Meghan pouts dramatically. “What? I didn’t cheat last time!”
I look between them, confused, until Calvin leans down and whispers conspiratorially, “Inès is a genius.”
I glance at her, wide-eyed, as she lets out a small laugh.
“I forgot about that!” Meghan says with exaggerated innocence. “But I’m sure she can turn it off for one game.”
Inès raises her hand in mock surrender. “I could try.”
Kingsley arches a brow, giving her a look that’s equal parts warning and teasing, the same look Calvin gives me when I’m testing his patience. “Are you lying, Queen?”
“I wouldn’t dare, King,” she says sweetly.
Kingsley sighs in faux exasperation, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “That’s what I thought.”
“Well, fine,” Meghan declares, linking arms with Inès and me. “We don’t want to hang out with you guys anyway. We’ll have a girls’ night.”
She starts marching us away dramatically while the men laugh behind us.
“Don’t worry,” Justin calls out. “We’ll try not to miss you too much!”
“Oh, you will,” Meghan shoots back over her shoulder, making all of us burst into laughter.
“So, Blair…” Meghan starts as soon as we step into what looks like a study.
The space is airy and impeccably organized, with a minimalist yet feminine touch.
A cozy couch and loveseat sit by a wall of color-coordinated bookshelves, their spines forming a gradient that’s oddly satisfying.
She lowers herself onto the loveseat, rubbing her stomach as she speaks.
“I love your name, by the way. Totally gives me Gossip Girl vibes.”
“Thank you, I was actually named after the badass Blair Waldorf,” I reply, settling into the matching armchair.
“Really? Your mom must’ve been obsessed with Gossip Girl,” Meghan says.
“Actually, it was my sister who was obsessed with the books. She picked my name, hoping I’d turn out like Blair.”
“And did you?” Inès asks.
“I’d like to think so.” I grin, flipping my hair dramatically for effect.
“Iconic,” Meghan declares, beaming. “So, tell us everything. How did you meet Calvin?”
“I… uh,” I stammer. What am I supposed to say? I met Calvin when I came here for my sister’s wedding, who just so happens to be his fiancée.
Before I can come up with anything, Inès steps in smoothly. “Meghan,” she says, a gentle warning.
“What?” Meghan protests, dramatically throwing her hands up. “I’m not being nosy!”
Inès raises a brow.
“I’m not!” she insists. “I just want to know because, girl, that man is fine.”
Both Inès and I turn to her at the same time, eyebrows raised.
“What?” Meghan asks, dead serious. “I mean, my man’s the love of my life, obviously. But I’m not blind.”
I glance at Inès, and in perfect unison, we both burst into laughter. Meghan joins in, clearly pleased with herself.
“You’re impossible,” Inès says, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.
“Thank you, thank you,” Meghan says with a mock bow, one hand resting dramatically on her baby bump. “Now… Blair. What’s one thing we need to know about you?”
“Oh gosh, no pressure,” I say, laughing nervously as all eyes fall on me. “Well, I’m studying fashion in Paris as you already know… but I also post style tips and videos on social media. You know, outfits, little tutorials, behind-the-scenes stuff.”
Meghan perks up. “Wait, really? What’s your handle?”
I blink, surprised but flattered. “It’s just @BlairCouture. All one word.”
She’s already pulling out her phone. “You’re kidding, that’s you?” she says as she scrolls. “Oh my God, I’ve totally seen your reels! You did that one with the pink corset and the silk gloves, I saved it!”
My cheeks flush. “That one blew up a little, yeah.”
“I’m following you immediately,” she says, tapping her screen like a woman on a mission. “You’re so talented. These looks are stunning… Inès, look at this one.”
Inès leans over to see, nodding with genuine admiration. “Wow, Blair. That’s really impressive.”