Trey was a gentleman.
We hadn’t spent weeks or months together.
But in the short time that we’d had—his chivalry was more than apparent.
And actually, pretty swoony.
Trey was all about opening doors and walking on the outside of the sidewalk.
And—always letting me go first—in all things.
So, when Trey walked into the house and pulled me behind him—I knew it wasn’t because he’d forgotten his manners.
Nope.
It was his way of showing everyone inside that massive house he meant business.
It was his way of protecting me.
And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my heart squeeze.
“Bienvenue, Lexi,” Angelique said as soon as I walked in. “Welcome to our home.” She grabbed me and gave me a hug. “I trust that you’re all right?” she asked quietly as she moved away slightly, and looked at me.
The obvious concern she showed was written all over her face.
I took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Angelique. And I’m so sorry for—for everything. This is not exactly the first impression I wanted to give you,” I turned my head toward her husband, “or Marcel, or the team. I’m truly sorry for my actions.”
Marcel smiled at me, and said, “Come in, come in,” he waved, urging me forward. “We have much to discuss.”
He wasn’t acting angry—neither of them were.
Which kind of threw me a bit.
Trey kept holding my hand, and to tell you the truth—it felt comforting. I was happy for the support.
Angelique let me go, and Trey pulled me along to a large living room.
Dad stood in front of a chair. The look on his face unchanged.
He wanted to tear me a new one. And soon.
After Angelique and Marcel sat down, the rest of us followed.
Trey and I sat on a long couch, but he made sure to stay right next to me—his thigh touching mine.
“Children, we’ve seen all of the video postings on social media. It seems as though you two had a very—eventful couple of days,” Angelique said, and then was interrupted by high-pitched barking.
“Oh, les bébés are back,” she said, turning her head toward the noise.
Two of the sweetest French bulldogs came racing around the corner.
Their coats were black and shiny, and oh, man, were they ever excited.
They scurried right up to us, and I had to laugh at how adorable they were.
“Aww,” I said, and leaned over to pet them both.
“This one is Claude,” Trey said as he picked up the dog with the blue collar, “and that one is Claudette,” he nodded to the other one with a pink collar.