Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance, Natasha Boyd [e reader books .TXT] 📗

go and call back the daughter of the guy you’re in love with.”

I frowned. “Why is that bad? I—”

“It’s not. Go.” She shooed me into my bedroom and closed the door on me.

I stared at the wood, then walked to my bed and sat down. I looked up Dauphine’s contact where I’d saved it on my phone. Then I kicked off my shoes and waited as it rang.

Chapter Forty-Eight

My phone screen opened to darkness. “Allo?” a tiny voice answered.

“Dauphine? It’s me, Josie, calling you back.”

There was a squeal and some rustling. She was obviously in bed. “Josie!” The brightness of the tablet she held gently lit her soft features. I looked at my watch, it was around two in the morning there. “Are you okay? You said you had a bad dream.”

“Oui. But now I do not remember.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I must be quiet.”

“Yes, um, why do you have your iPad in bed?” I knew her father didn’t like her sleeping with her electronics in her room.

“I took it from Papa’s room while he was sleeping.”

I tutted a gentle reprimand. “So, you woke up from a bad dream and went to your father’s room, but you didn’t wake him up?” My eyebrows were raised.

“Non. I wanted to talk to you. I wish you were here, Josie. I miss you so much.”

I pressed and released my lips, a hand coming to my chest. “I miss you too, sweetheart. Where are you right now? At home or on the boat? It’s so dark, I can’t see where you are.”

“At home. Today I started school again. And the girls were so mean! I told them I had an American friend and they told me I was lying. You are my best friend. Tu sais? Tu me manques. I miss you,” she said again.

“I miss you too,” I repeated and bit my lip.

“Mémé even told Papa he is irritable because he misses you too. And he got very angry at her. But en secret, I think he does.”

Ah, my gut clenched, along with my teeth. “Well, I’m sure he’s irritable because he’s stressed with important work things.”

“Josie? Why could you not stay?” Her nose scrunched up and her chin wobbled like she was trying very hard not to cry.

“Oh, sweetheart. I—I don’t live there, I live here and I—”

“But you could live here. With us. I—I thought maybe you and my papa could fall in love and maybe you could be my belle-mère. Can you come back?”

Oh, God. “Dauphine. Honey.” My voice failed me, and I blinked away the tears that pooled in my eyes. Pursing my lips, and then mashing them together, I tried to stifle the wrecking ball that was crawling up my throat. Especially when I heard the soft sniffle that told me Dauphine was now crying too. The tears in her eyes glinted in the glow of the iPad.

“Please, Josie?” Her voice was so small and shaky, it felt like my chest might crack. “Do you not love me very much?” she asked.

“Oh, Dauphine.”

Fuck.

I let out a wobbly breath and sniffed since my whole head was now liquefying. And she would see I was crying. I squeezed my eyes shut and got it together with superhuman force of will. “I love you. I love you so, so much.”

“Then why can you not come here?”

“It’s not so simple. Just because people want to be together, doesn’t mean it’s always right.”

“Do you love, Papa?”

I swallowed. “Sweetheart. I, that’s … that’s between your father and me.”

“But if you come here then maybe you can fall in love.” She hiccupped.

Suddenly she disappeared from the screen in a rustle of sheets.

“Dauphine?” Xavier’s gruff and sleep-infused voice thumped me in the solar plexus. He murmured to her in French, confused, questioning. It was muffled. She’d obviously hidden her device.

Shit.

Should I hang up?

I chewed my lip, debating. I should. But I didn’t want her to think I’d hung up on her, or leave her to try to explain our conversation by herself. I also, God help me, wanted to hear his voice again. I wanted to hear the low rumble of his throat and soft soothing French words I would probably not understand as he calmed his daughter. My fingers hovered over the end button when all of a sudden a lamp in Dauphine’s room flicked on and Xavier’s face filled the screen.

My chest ballooned with the overwhelm of seeing him. I stared, drinking my fill for endless moments. He seemed equally stunned though perhaps not for the same reasons. His eyes were tired, bloodshot, and I wondered if he’d been having his midnight whiskeys again. His bed hair made my palms itch to reach through the screen and smooth it down. Warmth unraveled through my insides. “Josie,” he whispered, then cleared his throat.

We stared for two long beats.

His features hardened.

“Wait,” I said.

But the screen went blank.

I flung my phone on the bed next to me as I fell backward.

“Goddammit,” I yelled and covered my eyes, pressing away the sting in them. The impact of seeing him kicked like an old bruise on my ribcage. And the tiny imploring voice of Dauphine who saw things so plainly, like only children could, had near ripped my damn heart out.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Josie?”

“Yeah. Come in.” I scrubbed my hand down my face and sat up.

The door opened, and Meredith’s face was twisted in sympathy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I scooted over wordlessly, settling my back against the headboard and folding my legs up to squeeze them against my chest.

Meredith crawled onto the bed and lay next to me. “You know that story about the big rig that gets jammed in the tunnel and only the kid can figure out how to get it loose?”

“Um, no. I’m sorry, I thought we were talking about my heartbreak here. If we’re going back to fifth grade physics, I’m out.” I sat up.

She picked up a throw pillow and tossed it