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

“I—I’m here.”

Silence descended as soon as I announced to Xavier I was on the line. The soft click of my bedroom door closing behind Meredith was the only sound.

Perhaps he’d hung up because I hadn’t announced myself sooner. I took the phone away from my ear to check the screen. We were still connected.

“Xavier?” I asked softly, and it came out as a whisper, almost as if I was afraid to say his name. I was afraid. So afraid these feelings for him would balloon up at the sound of his voice when I’d been trying so hard to stuff them away.

“Oui,” he said softly. When nothing else came after, I frowned, but stayed quiet, unsure of the purpose of his call. Was he angry? Did he miss me? After a few moments, I lay back against my pillows and clicked off my side lamp. Waiting. In the darkness, I became aware of the faint sound of his breathing. “Are you alone?” he suddenly asked.

“Yes. Of course.” I paused. “You?”

“Moi aussi.” Me too.

For a moment I was tempted to fill the silence, but then I surrendered to it. There was too much between us and nothing could be resolved. Certainly not over the phone. I could ask about Dauphine, but I knew from her that she wasn’t doing well. If he wanted to talk about that he would.

I shifted onto my back, letting out a sigh. “Hey, Xavier?”

“Oui?”

“You don’t need to respond, and please don’t end the call. I just … I want to tell you. I miss you. I miss you both, so much.” At a hitch in his breath, I went on. “Don’t say anything. Let’s just … let’s just fall asleep together, okay?”

“D’accord,” he whispered, sounding defeated. My heart squeezed.

I rolled over and curled up, still fully clothed, and closed my eyes with the sound of Xavier’s breath in my ears.

Chapter Forty-Nine

XAVIER

Valbonne, Provence, France

“Papa!” Dauphine bounced out of bed and into my arms in two leaps. “You’re home! I already called Josie and I’m ready for my story.” She grabbed my face between her palms and gave me a wet kiss on the forehead.

“What a welcome!” I looked over her shoulder as I set her down to where Martine, my housekeeper, was waiting patiently. “I’m sorry to mess up the bed time routine,” I told her. “My flight was delayed.” I tried not to have overnight stays, but we’d had a pitch for a massive round of investor funding in Geneva. Luckily Martine, my house keeper, was back from staying with her sister.

“Pas de problème.” The older lady smiled, then turned back to Josie, helping her get settled again. “Bon nuit,” she told Dauphine. After I asked Martine how her sister was doing, she left Dauphine and me to it.

“What are we reading tonight?” I asked my daughter instead of asking her how Josie was and how she sounded and was she happy and did she ask about me. I couldn’t believe Dauphine called Josie every day before bed. Actually, I couldn’t believe I allowed it.

Every night I put Dauphine to bed and she’d call Josephine for a few minutes to say goodnight. God knew what we were disturbing Josephine from during her work day. Had she gotten a new job? Was she with a boyfriend having a late lunch? The curiosity drove me to distraction. And far luckier than I had any right to be, Josephine answered Dauphine’s call every time. They talked for several minutes about Dauphine’s day while I hovered, pretending to be uninterested, and then told each other they loved each other. After that Dauphine went to sleep and stayed asleep. It wasn’t healthy, allowing Dauphine to develop a dependency to someone on the other side of the world, but whatever it was, it was working. Dauphine hadn’t had a nightmare since they started talking.

After reading one chapter of a kid’s version of Marie Curie’s biography, I kissed my daughter and tucked her in for the night.

Walking to my room, I slipped my tie from around my neck and undid my top button. I was restless. I unpacked, then prowled the house.

One would think now that Dauphine was sleeping so well, it would mean I’d start to sleep better too. And every night after Dauphine and Josephine hung up, I’d tell myself I wouldn’t call her a few hours later. But invariably, several times a week, I found myself waking up and lying in the dark staring at the ceiling and then dialing her number. I told myself it was better than getting up and drowning my thoughts in whiskey as I’d done for too many months as a single father.

Calling Josephine back that night a few weeks ago when I’d caught Dauphine calling her in the middle of the night might have been the dumbest thing I’d done in a while. As soon as she answered, I’d almost hung up. What was there to talk about? But then she gave me an out—no need to talk, just stay on the phone while we fall asleep. It seemed idiotic. Something a lovesick teenager might do. But I surrendered to her suggestion with a will that collapsed like a thirsty man in the desert. And life had truly been a desert without her here. Refusing to admit it was a losing battle. Especially when I heard about her all day, every day, from Dauphine. Even Evan wouldn’t quit making digs at me. And my sleep had actually deteriorated.

Listening to Josephine breathing as she fell asleep was a meditation. It calmed my mind and soothed my soul. Unfortunately it also awakened other parts of me. Cravings I had no right to feel. And so, I battled those too before finally relaxing and drifting to sleep myself.

Tonight, though, I was antsy. Sleep was too far away. The deal I’d been working on for months had just closed. And now it was three in the morning and never mind waking up, I still