Page 55 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Madison

Three Years Later

“ D ear God, this is divine.” Justice takes another bite of gelato and tips her face to the cloudless sky. She draws in a deep breath and grins, her black natural curls pineappled on top of her head.

She’s in pure bliss, and she’s only called her and Terrence’s mothers, who are watching their kids, twice since we started our walking tour. It’s their first trip out of the country without Edie and Gracie, their three-year-old twins, or Mattan, who’s a little over six months.

I was pregnant with Alessandro at the same time she was carrying her son. Our little guy is almost a year old, and he’s a ball of energy. He’s having the time of his life in Breaux Bridge with his grandparents and cousins. For the record, I’ve required proof of life every hour.

“This was a good call,” Justice says to the cone of caramel, raspberry, and vanilla gelato she’s about to French-kiss. A blueberry cheesecake macaroon is the crown jewel, and she devours it with a shimmy.

I lick the salted caramel that’s pooling at the top of my waffle cone, grateful that my aviator sunglasses and the maze of nineteenth century buildings provide some shelter from the sun. “Is there anything else you wanted to see?”

“Oh, I think we’re good for today,” she laughs. “Em and Kojo are on their way. Thank you for abandoning your heels. I had fun.”

“Only for you, but let’s not make a habit out of it,” I chuckle. My platform slip-on oxfords style well with my marigold spaghetti-strap summer dress, and they didn’t decimate my feet after three hours of walking.

We lost Emma and Kojo half an hour into the day. They headed off to the Passage du Havre to shop, then detoured to a spa. Jay and I sampled food and wine in Montmartre, which turned into lunch and a stroll to Moulin Rouge.

Everyone—Terrence and Miles included—is in Paris to celebrate Justice and T’s sixteenth wedding anniversary. Preston and I didn’t have to travel far, as we made the City of Love our permanent home two years ago.

The four-bedroom single-family house we bought in the sixteenth arrondissement, with a garden and a private alley, was only one of life’s changes. Justice is now a close friend. Emma too, believe it or not.

Therapy equipped me with the tools to heal myself and the relationships in need of repair. Reconciliation was not without honest conversations, acknowledgment, apology, and forgiveness. What took the deepest work was freeing myself of the things that no longer served me.

Fear.

Guilt.

Resentment.

All of it had to go so I could receive this version of my life, a version I never knew was possible. It’s soul work in constant progress.

“I’m glad we spent the day together,” Justice says, her face spread into a smile.

“Me too.” I pull her into a side hug, careful to not get what’s left of my cone on her two-piece jumpsuit. “Blush is your color.”

She twirls her Tinker Bell shape and lifts a tennis shoe. “I have a damn good stylist.”

“That you do.”

“You’re in Brazil next month?”

I nod. “For Noura’s premiere in S?o Paulo.”

“You two are the Hollywood duo.”

Every collaboration with Noura Sky has turned to gold. She’s a sweetheart and now my priority client, booking films and guest appearances left and right. Outside of Justice and my work with Kojo, which is now an advisory role, I only keep a handful of clients now, and most of them are celebrities.

With all the best-dressed lists Noura is on, the demand for my services has been nonstop. But I won’t compromise my life at home trying to be everything to everybody.

Preston and I slowed down our travel schedules to be present with each other and Alessandro. We still see the world, but we don’t let it rule our lives.

“Jewel will be down there,” I add, “learning about climate initiatives and how to safeguard the rights of Indigenous people.”

Justice whistles. “I’m scared of your niece. She’s a force.”

“That she is. A year left in law school and already orchestrating lawsuits,” I laugh.

The baby whose dirty diapers I once changed is now changing the world.

“Parishes across Louisiana are suing oil companies, to hold them accountable for decades of damages. My grandmother’s old parish is taking legal action for the polluting plants being disproportionately placed in Black neighborhoods. ”

Jewel is our pride and joy. Spending the summer in Breaux Bridge inspired her to go straight to law school after graduating from Brooklyn University. Our family will have its first attorney, who will no doubt fight in the streets and inside courtrooms for climate justice.

The whine of an engine cracks through the air.

A scooter pulls up next to the curb, kicking up gravel.

Emma hops off with a dismount that would score ten out of ten for not flashing all of Paris.

The driver’s tongue plummets to the ground and unfurls like a red carpet for her deep V-neckline halter minidress.

“Thank you,” Emma says to the man who’s still glitching. She leaves him with his drool and steps over the curb in single-strap stilettos the same chartreuse as her backless dress that’s causing heart attacks.

The color is gorgeous on her amber skin. With her mahogany hair in an updo, Em looks like a model on a magazine cover.

“Why are you on somebody’s scooter?” Justice asks.

The answer speeds down the street with cocoa-buttered legs kicked in the air. Kojo lets out a Whoo! and jumps off the scooter once it comes to a stop. He passes his helmet to a brunette man with a wink and seasons his sashay for his audience of one.

“He’s cute, right?” Kojo fans his fingers over his shoulder. “Is the Moms Gone Wild walking tour over?”

“You missed gelato.” I stick my tongue out at his pout. “Where are your bags?”

“Being delivered to the hotel,” Emma says.

Justice’s face scrunches. “I can’t believe you sat on that seat with that hemline. Miles would flip.”

“Blame this one.” Emma thumbs at Kojo. “He had the bright idea of asking for a ride. Trust me when I say I don’t want or need to hear Miles’s mouth.”

“But you will.”

Manicured hedges rattle next to a private home. Miles appears, scaling over a wrought iron fence. His white sneakers hit the pavement first, flexing the muscles stretching his white shorts and the gray button down rolled up to his elbows.

“So we’re riding around Paris with strangers and pussy out?” Miles approaches his wife.

Emma’s moss-green eyes stretch two sizes. “How did you get into someone’s yard?”

He shrugs. “They weren’t home, and I didn’t feel like walking this long-ass block to get to you. I cut off the security cameras. We’re straight.”

“Where is Terrence?” Justice frowns at the hedges.

“He’s bringing our rental car around. Back to the matter at hand, Mrs. Walker,” he says to Emma, who’s now half a foot below his eyeline. “You trying to see me on Locked Up Abroad ? You and our pussy better not play with me. Aye, my guy. Lemme smell the back of your shirt real quick.”

Miles inches closer to the man on the scooter. Whatever trance he was in dissolves. The scooter roars to life, and he defies speed limits in order to escape Miles’s hulking frame.

Kojo shakes his head and laughs. “Here they go.” He retreats back to the scooter with the handsome brunette, who’s oddly relaxed and unbothered by the drama. “I’ll see y’all tonight for dinner…if I’m not tied up.”

“You’re foul as hell, Ko. I thought we were friends.” Miles points a finger at him.

“You know I’d never put Emmy in harm’s way!” Kojo yells over the scooter’s engine. “We were only on for three blocks. Love you, Trevante! Bye!”

The scooter speeds off, with Kojo’s legs back in the air. Justice is on her phone, calling “the Gigis” about her kids. Miles and Emma went from arguing to tonguing each other down in the middle of the sidewalk.

This part of the ninth arrondissement isn’t super touristy—not that it would stop Miles from cupping Emma’s ass or her from pulling down his neck to reach his lips.

“I promise I covered my pussy with my purse.” She lifts the square accessory, which is no bigger than a slice of bread.

Miles pecks her lips and groans at her hands inside his back pockets. “Good girl, kitten.” He smacks her ass. “I’m always coming behind you. Have me out here looking like Liam Neeson in Taken .”

Emma smirks. “No more hacking on this trip.” She nips at his lip, and he dips his tongue back into her mouth.

Time for me to go.

“See you later, Em,” I laugh. She can’t hear me with all the moaning and rubbing.

Justice scoffs and slips her phone into her clutch. “Newlyweds,” she giggles. We link arms and head in the opposite direction.

Miles and Em said “I do” last year. It was a beautiful wedding in Malibu, overlooking the vineyards. Perfect for the two people who swore off commitment.

Preston and I exchanged vows on his nonna’s property in Sicily two years ago. He proposed a couple months after his birthday, when I moved to London. We’re at the end of the newlywed stage, but you’d never know it.

A compact SUV rolls up. Inside is a very stuffed-in Terence, who looks three sizes too big for the toy vehicle. He squeezes out wearing a white tee, gray shorts, and a grin for his wife.

Justice doesn’t have a chance to say hello before he’s on her. Mouths part, and their hands find a home on each other’s bodies.

“Newlyweds, huh?” I chuckle at the moan that slips out of Justice.

“Sorry.” She wipes her lip with a shy smile and eyes for only her husband.

Terrence runs a hand through the black curls Justice agitated. “Hey, Madison.”

“Hey.”

It was awkward at first, joining this friend group. But, like me and Preston, life had a way of pushing us together.