Page 121 of Catching Trouble

At the sight of Estelle, Maxime’s face paled. “I’m out of here,” he murmured in my ear, pointing subtly to his groin. “I’m going to spend some time in the freezer to manage this.”

It turned out the matriarchhad quite a crush on my lover. Inever imagined Maxime frightened of anyone. That it was an eighty-year-old woman tickled my funny bone.

Watching him walk away, Estelle clicked her tongue like she was scolding a child. “Your young man is very pretty. So colourful. He’ll make beautiful children with you.”

I chuckled, making a mental note to tell Maxime she’d called him young. I loved to wind him up about his salt and pepper temples.

When Estelle headed to the bathroom, Iris turned to me and rolled her eyes. “I’m so sorry. She never changes. She won’t be happy until everyone around her is married off and wearing stilettos.”

I giggled. “She’s fine. But should I warn her—I don’t think Maxime has the calves for heels.”

And honestly, I didn’t think either of us was ready for marriage. We’d been together almost a year, but we felt no pressure to go “official” or tick the relationship boxes everyone else expected.

Did I want to stay with him forever? Definitely.

Did I want our happily ever after to be the stuff of legends? Absolutely.

But we had no burning need for children or to name the date. Maxime and I didn’t need to tie the knot to prove anything.

Oh, the irony.

I straightened, looking at Iris. With a sheepish smile, I placed the last of my special celebration coffee creations on the tray. “I think they’re cold by now,” I said.

“Get a bit sidetracked, did we?” she asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

She took the bowl of pastries I’d asked the chef to make, and I trailed her through the club with the tray of drinks. After making my deliveries, I handed the last cup to Esmé. She peered into the froth, her mouth a perfect “O” shape. I’ddrawn an ornate “A”, for Amelie, surrounded by delicate flowers.

I glanced at the grey smudges under her eyes. She looked like she could do with the caffeine.

“Are you okay? You look a bit tired. You could always stretch out on the sun beds. I’ll wake you if you crisp up in the sun.”

She waved a hand at me. “Please don’t. Matteo will be over here like a shot, telling me about the importance of vitamin D for fertility.”

I pulled my brows.

“I agreed we could start trying for a baby, too.” She wiped the back of her hand over her forehead. “Let’s just say he’s been very diligent in the ‘trying’ part. I’m exhausted.”

I huffed a laugh. She’d hinted before that Matteo was an Italian stallion in all senses of the word.

“I shouldn’t complain,” she chuckled. “But it’s hard to relax when your partner ends every day by asking if you’re ovulating.”

She buried her head in her hands. “Thank goodness he’s so adorable. But tell me, from one businesswoman to another, how do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Relax. I know being at the beach must help, but you do a lot of standing.”

I ran my hand over the soft tablecloth. “I like to float in the pool if I’m really tired.”

I nibbled at my lip. Dare I mention my regular bubble therapy a la Maxime? Some people chose massage, some chose saunas. But I relied on Maxime and his breath control. With diligent practice, he’d developed lungs to rival a free diver. Our evenings in the pool had become legendary.

“Speaking of relaxing,” she said. “Do you think Luc ever switches off?”

I followed her gaze to see Sophie down on the beach,carrying baby Amelie. Luc trailed behind her like a shadow. He’d become the ultimate helicopter parent. I’d never imagined him cut out for fatherhood, but according to Iris, he was way more hands on than the average new dad.

She appreciated the break. Between launching a new wine for Luc and covering for Thierry—Esmé’s dad and their star winemaker—she had her hands full.

Thierry was off honeymooning with his new wife-slash-Luc’s housekeeper. With how entangled we’d all become, it was a wonder we hadn’t started a loyalty card scheme.