After a lively breakfast, the apartment buzzed with the sound of dishes clinking and light-hearted bickering. Gabriel was meticulously wiping down the counter while Alfie begrudgingly dried the dishes. Emily and Mindy were sorting through the snack wrappers left over from their binge-watch session.

Camille, however, had other plans. She checked the time on her phone and clapped her hands. "Okay, I'm heading out. Genevieve and Timothie are waiting for me at the café."

"Same café with the croissants?" Mindy asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're officially a regular now."

"Of course," Camille said with a smirk. "If I'm recommending the best croissant in Paris, I have to take them there."

"You and your whipped cream-filled obsession," Emily teased. "Tell Genevieve we said hi."

"Will do," Camille said, slipping into a casual but chic outfit: a tailored blazer, dark jeans, and a silk scarf. "Don't miss me too much."

"We'll try," Gabriel said, tossing her a dishtowel. "Bring us back something good!"

The café was its usual charming self, the scent of freshly baked pastries wafting through the air as Camille entered. She immediately spotted Genevieve and Timothie seated at a corner table by the window. Genevieve, with her effortlessly radiant smile and warm demeanor, stood and greeted Camille with an enthusiastic hug.

"Camille!" Genevieve said. "It's been ages."

"Too long," Camille agreed, smiling warmly. She turned to Timothie, who stood to shake her hand. "Timothie, it's good to see you again."

"Likewise," he said, his Irish accent as charming as ever. "Genevieve's been counting down the days to this."

"So have I," Camille said as they all sat down. "Now, we have to start with croissants. Trust me, they're worth it."

Genevieve studied the menu. "What do you recommend?"

"The whipped cream-filled croissant," Camille said immediately. "It's my favorite."

Genevieve grinned. "Then that's what I'll have. Timothie?"

"I'll go with the almond butter one," Timothie decided.

Once their orders were placed, they settled into conversation. Camille leaned forward. "So, tell me—how have you been? How's everything in West Wicklow?"

Genevieve's face lit up. "It's been amazing. I got promoted to Permanent Executive Accountant for the region. It's a big change from Paris, but I love it."

"Congratulations!" Camille said, her eyes wide. "That's a huge deal."

"It really is," Genevieve said. "Originally, I was just filling in because someone hated the job and quit. But once I got the hang of it, they offered me the position permanently. And, of course, Timothie and I decided to make the move together."

Camille turned to Timothie. "How's life in Ireland treating you?"

Timothie smiled. "It's quiet, but in a good way. I still get to do my architectural work remotely, so it's been a smooth transition."

"That's wonderful," Camille said. "And the wedding—tell me everything. What's it going to be like?"

Genevieve's eyes sparkled. "It's going to be at Chateau du Feÿ in Burgundy. A big, beautiful celebration with all our friends and family. You'll love it."

Camille nodded, already imagining the picturesque setting. "It sounds magical. Do you have everything planned?"

"Almost everything," Genevieve said. "Oh, and Camille, I have to ask—are you wearing anything by Yves Saint Laurent to the wedding?"

Camille blinked, taken aback. "Not yet, but I'd love to. Why?"

Genevieve smiled conspiratorially. "Because Yves Saint Laurent was my great-grandfather."

Camille gasped, her jaw dropping. "Are you serious?"

"Completely," Genevieve said, laughing at Camille's reaction. "He passed away in 2008, of course, but he was a huge influence on my family. Tom Ford is actually coming to the wedding to take Yves's place."

"Tom Ford?" Camille repeated, looking genuinely stunned. "That's incredible."

"It is," Genevieve said. "And I'll be wearing a wedding dress designed by Yves himself. It's been in our family for generations."

Camille leaned back in her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. "Genevieve, you've officially outdone yourself."

Genevieve laughed. "It's a lot, I know. But it's going to be worth it. Oh, and the wedding is in a few days—day three of the celebration. You'll be there for all of it, of course."

"Wouldn't miss it," Camille said, raising her coffee cup in a toast. "To you and Timothie."

"To us," Genevieve said, clinking her cup against Camille's. "And to an unforgettable wedding."

When Camille returned to the apartment later that afternoon, the others were lounging in the living room, recovering from their morning chores.

"How was it?" Emily asked as Camille set down her bag.

"Fantastic," Camille said, flopping onto the couch. "And I have news. Genevieve's wedding is going to be at Chateau du Feÿ in Burgundy. It's going to be massive."

"That sounds fancy," Mindy said, perking up. "What else?"

"Well," Camille said, grinning, "Genevieve's great-grandfather was Yves Saint Laurent."

Everyone froze.

"Wait," Alfie said, blinking. "The Yves Saint Laurent?"

"The one and only," Camille confirmed. "And Tom Ford is coming to the wedding to represent the brand."

Gabriel let out a low whistle. "I suddenly feel underdressed for this."

"You should," Camille said with a smirk. "But don't worry, I'll help you all step up your game."

"This wedding just got a hundred times more interesting," Mindy said. "Do we get designer outfits too?"

"I'll ask Genevieve," Camille joked. "But for now, just be prepared for the wedding of the century."

As the group processed the news, Camille leaned back, already imagining how the next few days would unfold. With this group, nothing would go according to plan—but that was half the fun.