Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance

by Natasha Boyd

  I dragged my eyes away to look at Xavier a few feet to my right, only to find him looking at me over the top of the small nun’s head, watching my reaction.

  I dropped my mouth wider than it already was in a non-verbal expression of wonder.

  He grinned.

  Sister Maria said something to Xavier and shuffled a bit farther down the path, leaving us together.

  “Amazing,” I said.

  “I knew you would love it.”

  He gestured down the hillside. “That’s the Vallé Réginu.”

  “I have no idea what that is, or why it’s important, but this is amazing.” I looked back over the bay and pointed. “The water is so light blue there.”

  He leaned close, pressing his arm to mine. “It’s shallow in the bay.” He pointed to the left of us where a jagged peninsula thrust out into the dark blue ocean. “That is called La Revellata. Parts along the edge are extremely deep. There are caves and grottos and tiny beaches too. I’ve heard it’s good scuba diving.”

  “It’s breathtaking.”

  My hands were laid flat on the stone wall barrier in front of us, and Xavier’s warm hand covered one of mine before plucking it up and bringing it to his lips. He stared at me.

  As beautiful as the view was, I found it hard to let go of his look until the polite cough of a small nun reminded both of us of her presence.

  She turned toward the sea, but not before I saw her knowing smile. She said something to Xavier, and he turned back to me. “Sister Maria said that you are welcome to go into the main chapel and look around. We will return in a few minutes after we conclude our meeting.”

  “Oh, of course. Thank you for showing me this.” I took a few steps back and reluctantly let go of his hand. My chest was full, my heart-racing. I rounded the corner down the first few stone steps and stopped to take a breath.

  Love filled me like a sudden hurricane, as if I’d opened the final window in my soul, swirling through my insides and robbing my breath.

  I think I just fell the last step to in love on top of this mountain.

  I was in love with Xavier Pascale.

  Along with the realization came panic. My hands grew sweaty. I pressed one against my chest.

  Breathe, Josie. He hasn’t broken your heart yet.

  But he will.

  Right?

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  XAVIER

  It didn’t take long for Sister Maria to give me her most recent financial update on our joint project. She was a wizard with numbers and also the most kind and generous soul I knew. When I’d first had the idea to help process refugee kids who arrived on island with no parents and provide them with food, safe housing, and education, Sister Maria had been a natural choice. She’d already retired from teaching and transferred her orders to a convent in her native Corsica, and we’d kept in touch over the years. Mainly our interactions had been postcards from her asking me to donate to various charities and reminding me God had seen fit to bless me for a reason. There was nothing like Catholic guilt dispensed by a kindly nun. But now that we’d started this joint venture almost five years ago, I’d found myself coming over to visit her and talk in person at least once a year. And since Arriette had died, many times more.

  At the conclusion of our business talk, she made no move for us to leave to join Josephine. “I can see now why you wanted to meet me here, rather than in the citadel like we’d previously arranged.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb. “Josephine is an architect and loves history. I thought she’d like to see it.”

  Sister Maria laughed huskily. “You can’t swing a cat without hitting an ancient structure down there.” She pointed down the hill. “Far more history than up here.”

  “But no view.”

  She made a noncommittal grunt of affirmation then eyed the stairs leading down. “I’m assuming you know the legend of this place?”

  I let out a controlled breath and nodded. “I do,” I admitted.

  She took my hand in both of hers. “Does she know?”

  I shook my head.

  “Oh, Xavier. I do not want to see you hurt again.”

  “Do you think I will be?” I asked carefully.

  “It’s not for me to say. She seems lovely. Grounded. And in love with you.”

  My intake of breath was short and sharp. “Do you think so?” I waited for the stab of panic I was expecting, but it didn’t come. It would later, I was sure.

  “You do not need me to tell you.”

  “I don’t know anything anymore. I can’t trust my own thoughts.” I tried to swallow. “The guilt I feel about Arriette—”

  “Xavier. You know God doesn’t hold you responsible for Arriette.”

  My throat closed so tight I could barely breathe. “Doesn’t He? How can you be so sure?”

  “I have a close relationship with Him.” She winked, trying to lighten my mood, but it was no use.

  “I couldn’t love her enough to save her, Sister. I think maybe I’m not capable.” I pressed my hands on the stone, pushing back and doubling over to hang my head like it could open my lungs so I could breathe, so it could soothe the pain that rushed into my chest at admitting my truth. I squeezed my eyes closed and counted through it. “I don’t … know where my heart is,” I said when I could speak again. “I love my daughter, but beyond that I fear it is dead inside for anything else or so deep I can’t find it. If I cannot find it, how can I give it to someone again?” I pried my hands from the stone wall, but they shook. My words seemed nonsensical to my ears. And I hated this feeling of vulnerability.

  Sister Maria laid a warm hand on my spine, offering quiet comfort. “Your heart is not lost. You wouldn’t have brought Josephine here if it was. If anything, it’s the opposite. It is found. You just need time.”

  Time.

  I’d given Josephine two days, only one was left, and then she was going away. It was better this way. Wasn’t it? Safer for me. Safer for Dauphine. And I didn’t know if I wanted more. Not with this person I’d only just met a few weeks ago. It was too soon. Surely it was too soon. Wasn’t it? “I brought her here to test the legend, I think. To have God make the choice for me. To unearth my heart … or not.”

  “Xavier, you deserve happiness. But counting on a legend that says a couple who come to this place together will be united forever is folly. God can only do so much. He gave you a heart and the ability to love. And I believe He also places people we need in our path. It is your choice to take Him up on it.”

  “What if I’m too afraid?” I asked.

  She let out a long, sad sigh. “Then you are too afraid.” She looked out to sea and then back at me. “A life lived in fear is no life at all. Look at the families you are saving, people who lived in fear but are willing to face death and hunger and drowning to get themselves and their children to a better life. A life without fear.” She took my hand and squeezed.

  “Well, that certainly puts my drama in perspective,” I said grudgingly.

  Sister Maria smiled. “I will say the fact you came here today to find guidance tells me that even though you are afraid, a small voice is telling you that loving Josephine might be worth the risk.”

  “I think that small voice might be my libido, not my heart,” I said drily.

  Sister Maria crossed herself and slapped the back of my hand.

  I smirked, relieved at the break in tension.

  “Here.” She tutted and handed me the manila folder she’d tucked under arm. “Let us rejoin Josephine.”

  Josephine was quiet in the back of the taxi.

  I was too. I was raw after my impromptu confessional with Sister Maria. As the car made its way down the winding road, I instructed the driver to take us on a short tour through the old city and to point landmarks out before returning us to the port.

  I looked at my traveling companion and was overcome by the urge to touch her—to close the strange gap that seemed to have sprung up between us. I reached
out and took Josephine’s hand, warm and soft, and held it gently on the seat between us atop the manila folder Sister Maria had given me.

  Josie looked down at our hands, then up at me. She smiled tentatively. “What’s in the folder?” she asked.

  “My project with Sister Maria.”

  “Can I see?”

  I pursed my lips, unwilling to let go of her hand, but then shrugged and did so. “Of course.”

  She took the folder and opened it.

  “I haven’t looked yet, myself,” I said as we both looked at the front page, which was a list of names and ages.

  Josie frowned and turned the page to the first kid. A picture of a young boy with dark hair and eyes, about twelve was stapled to the top corner. “Is this … a report card?” she asked and turned the page to another kid. This time a bit older. Then another and another.

  “Yes. They are not orphans exactly, but they have been separated from their parents. Most of them are from North Africa and Syria. They are targeted to be recruited into a life of crime or worse. So Sister Maria and I work with the local governments and the NGOs to locate them and give them a chance for schooling and a future of some kind, and we also try to locate their families through the refugee camp network.” I swallowed, embarrassed suddenly. I didn’t know why. Maybe I just felt exposed. Like I was trying too hard. Or boasting about my charity.

  Josephine’s eyes were on mine, fixed and unreadable.

  “I like to see their grades. Maybe give them a further opportunity in time. It’s … it’s not an investment in any way,” I went on as if she’d accused me of something. “It’s just something I do. I think it’s important. I was given so much. And I—”

  “Stop,” Josie said. Then she looked away and out the window, hiding her face. She closed the folder and set it back between us.

  My heart pounded. What the fuck was that? I didn’t expect her to worship me or anything, but you’d think I’d just shown her the plans for a nuclear power plant that was going to displace a colony of baby sea turtles. A little acknowledgment that I was at least a decent human being would have been nice. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “What did I do?”

  She turned to face me. Tears on her cheeks, gutting me, her eyes translucent green. “Nothing. I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s absolutely wonderful. I didn’t mean to make you think otherwise. I’m just tired. I get emotional when I’m tired.”

  I lifted my hand and touched the water on her cheek. She closed her eyes.

  Debating for a split second, I gave into an instinct and chanced a rejection. “Come here,” I said, and meeting no resistance, hauled her across the back seat onto my lap where she burrowed against my chest. I let my face fall into her thick, luscious hair and held her close, breathing her in deeply. My heart raced as I realized how nervous that small simple move to reach out to her had made me. And how relieved I was that she hadn’t resisted.

  After a whirlwind taxi tour of the major sights inside the Calvi city walls, I had the driver drop us at a small restaurant in the port that employed its own fishermen who went out every morning. It was early afternoon, and Josie and I shared a bottle of rosé and I ordered a late lunch of bouillabaisse and Josie had fresh fish, rice, and seasonal vegetables.

  Her fingers were halfway across the table, fidgeting with the stem of her wine glass. Without thinking I reached out and took her fingers in mine and found myself holding hands across the table, something I hadn’t done in years. Not since Arriette and I had first met.

  It was so natural to want to touch Josie, to be with her. To laugh and to talk. She asked me all kinds of questions about my business, and I shared my work with the alternative energy project power plant that was currently being built near where I lived. I told her about the invention of microfilm that could withstand a cataclysm and last for two thousand years and how everyone wanted to record their technology or their industrial secrets and hide it on the microfilm in a bunker in Iceland in case the world ended. I wasn’t bragging. She was fascinated and I let myself talk.

  I told her about my successes and also my failures. I told her about Arriette’s brother and how he’d felt like he deserved Dauphine’s inheritance from her mother. About how I always felt like he was a threat out there and that was why my security around Dauphine was always so high.

  “Wow, would he hurt her?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  Josie’s face grew troubled. “Has Dauphine met her uncle?”

  “When she was small. I doubt she remembers him.”

  “It might be worth showing her a recent picture, so she knows to sound the alarm if he approaches her.”

  “I don’t want to scare her. But it’s probably a good idea.” I shook off a shiver. “Let’s talk about something else. What about you?”

  “What about me?” She smiled, her eyes dancing. “I’ve already told you everything.”

  “I doubt that,” I said. “What are your plans when you go back?” I asked.

  The question hit the atmosphere between us like a meteor hitting Paris. Fuck.

  Josie jerked like she’d been slapped, her eyes closing tight. Her fingers in mine moved to untangle, and I grabbed hold of them tighter. “Wait,” I said.

  I needed to say something. To take it back. But … I wasn’t asking her to stay. She didn’t plan to stay.

  Words and needs and demands and denials rose up and crashed silently around in my throat.

  Her fingers went limp in mine, which was somehow worse. “It’s fine, Xavier. We’re both aware of what this is. Let’s …” Her voice wobbled. “Let’s just enjoy one more day and not think about after tomorrow.” She pulled her hand away slowly and I let her.

  I still couldn’t speak, paralyzed as I was. Inside me, the words rose. I want more. But I left them unsaid, not believing them, and unable to drag them through the turmoil even if I did.

  Josie pasted a smile on her face, her eyes bright with determination. “You mentioned caves and grottos. And private beaches tucked away in the cliffs?”

  “La Revellata.”

  “Perhaps we could take the boat there this afternoon?” She stood and came around to me. “I need to run to the restroom, but,” she leaned down, her lips close to my ear, “I have a fantasy of you fucking me in the ocean that I’d like to take home with me. Let’s do that instead of talk.” Her mouth slipped down to the side of my neck and her lips pressed against my skin, lighting it on fire. Then she stood and hurried inside, her summer dress floating around her curves, her hair cascading down her back.

  I grabbed my wine glass and downed the contents, signaling for the check.

  Chapter Forty

  JOSIE

  I’d thought the water was beautiful off the coast of Southern France, but here, off the coast of a rocky island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, it was almost fake. I leaned over the prow of the boat as the anchor plunged down through the water, searching for a bottom that looked closer than it apparently was. When it finally hit the depths and stopped, I couldn’t see the bottom. Yet I could see the mottled blues of rocks and sand through crystal clear water.

  Xavier had put some music on, and the smooth and clubby beat bounced through the speakers suddenly making me feel as if I was in a music video. Or a dream. The singer sang sexily in a reggae sounding beat. Something about needing to let go, but also about never going back. I inhaled and closed my eyes, a smile on my face even while my heart thumped heavily. I never thought I’d ever have an experience as all sensually encompassing as this—the place, the situation, the man, the emotions. No matter that our time together would end tomorrow and my heart would splinter to leave Xavier and Dauphine and the crew, I was still suffused with the joy of the experience.

  “What are you thinking about?” came Xavier’s rough voice behind me.

  I inhaled through my nose. “I was wondering who this artist was singing?” I lied.

  “Dennis Lloyd. He’s
from Israel. Tel-Aviv.”

  Strong arms came around either side of me, and Xavier’s warm body pressed against my back. “Mmm. I like it,” I said, only half talking about the music. “So was Paco mad that you wanted to take the boat around here?”

  “Non.” His lips settled against my bare shoulder, nudging the strap of my summer dress off. Prickles of lust raced over my skin.

  I tilted my head back and my gaze dragged up the cliffs to the sea birds wheeling. The boat hardly swayed, the waves were so gentle lapping at the rocks it was hard to believe they could be so scored and sheared. One would expect violent, crashing white sprays battering them up endlessly. There were no other boats around to indicate any other swimmers or divers. A glimpse of white sand between a gash in two towering cliffs could be seen every few minutes over the gentle swells of water.

  “Are we swimming to that beach?” I asked, pointing and then letting my other hand scrape through his thick soft hair next to my cheek.

  “We can take the tender.”

  I pressed back, giving myself space from the railing, and he stepped back. Grasping the bottom of my sundress, I pulled it up over my head and off and dropped it on the deck until I stood in my bikini. Then I climbed over the silver rail. “I’ll race you,” I said to him with a glance over my shoulder.

  He was watching, eyes dark, a thumb running over his bottom lip.

  I grinned, and then lifted my arms either side of me and dove.

  It was graceful, a talent developed in the summers during high school. The water rushed toward me and then my hands and my head and my whole body streaked into the cool.

  I was arching back up to the surface when I heard the plunge into the water next to me. My eyes opened into the sting for a brief second to see the white streak of bubbles as Xavier shot downward past me.

  Surfacing, I began a fast freestyle toward the beach.

  In a moment, he was alongside me and then pulling ahead, his mouth split into a wide grin. It was no use, his strength and speed were no match. I did my best, but soon I lapsed to breaststroke as I approached where he stood waist deep, water running down his finely cut upper body. He flicked his hair and then combed his fingers through it.