As Béatrice continued her tale of Parisian adventures, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and overly dramatic sighs, I tried to tune her out and focus on the coffee pot. Caleb, ever the joker, leaned against the counter with a smirk. "So, Béatrice," he said, cutting her off mid-monologue, "is Paris still standing after your visit, or did you take it down one croissant at a time?" Béatrice shot him a mock glare, flipping her curls over her shoulder. "Oh, Caleb, darling. You're hilarious. I'm the reason Paris is still chic." Rory snorted from across the room, trying (and failing) to cover his laugh with a cough. I gave him a look, silently begging him not to stir the pot further. Béatrice had a way of turning even the smallest comments into dramatic declarations, and I wasn't ready for that kind of chaos this early. "Okay," I said quickly, placing a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. "Why don't we take it easy today? Maybe hang out here, play some games, and not completely exhaust ourselves." Béatrice wrinkled her nose. "Games? Like video games?" "Yeah," Xander said, stepping in to save me. "We've got a few fun ones. Besides, you've probably been running around nonstop in Paris. A chill day might be nice." To my surprise, Béatrice seemed to consider this. "Hmm. I suppose I could use a break. But only if it's fun." "It will be," Xander assured her, throwing me a quick wink. I mouthed a "thank you" in his direction.
Back upstairs, the boys set up a multiplayer game on my TV, and Béatrice reluctantly perched on the edge of the couch, controller in hand. To her credit, she tried—though her frustration with the controls became evident pretty quickly. "Why does it keep spinning?!" she cried as her character spiraled off the edge of the map for the third time. "Because you're moving both joysticks at the same time," Rory said, stifling a grin. "It's not that hard." "It is when the controller hates you!" Béatrice snapped, tossing it onto the cushion beside her. "This is clearly rigged." "Uh-huh," Caleb said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Blame the controller, not the user." Before Béatrice could respond, Xander jumped in. "Hey, you can try being on my team next round. I'll show you how to get the hang of it." Her expression softened—no one could resist Xander's easygoing charm—and she nodded. "Fine. But only because I don't want to embarrass myself again." The game continued, and to my surprise, Béatrice slowly got the hang of it with Xander's patient guidance. The room was filled with laughter and occasional shouts of victory or defeat, and for a while, it felt like Béatrice wasn't the chaos tornado I'd feared. As the afternoon wore on, she leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "Okay, I'll admit it. This was… tolerable. Maybe even fun." "High praise," Caleb said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "I'll treasure this moment forever." "Don't push it," Béatrice shot back, but her smile betrayed her amusement. I glanced at Xander, who caught my eye and grinned. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all. For now, the storm had passed, and I allowed myself to relax.