Michel Renard is about to find himself homeless...
...even if he did sign the lease--the man is a menace!

Ok, I should have known better than to trust my best friend to find a roommate for me. But, with bills to pay, work deadlines closing in and, and zero time to spare, I figured she could at least find someone who wasn’t, oh, I don’t know—a man.

Now, I’m stuck seeing him at work and at home, and this three bedroom? Definitely not big enough for the both of us. Worse, the abrasive Frenchman has no intention of leaving until his lease ends next year.

If I’m being honest, he does have a compelling reason to stay. A five year old reason, with blonde pigtails, large brown eyes, and the uncanny ability to wrap me around her tiny finger almost as tightly as she has her father.

The more time I spend with them, the harder it becomes to ignore how devoted he is as a father..or how warm he is when he lets his guard down. When danger strikes, Michel risks everything to protect me, and when his ex-wife threatens to take his daughter away, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him fight back- even if it means a marriage of convenience that blurs every line we vowed we wouldn’t cross.

But, when the dust settles, will I be enough for him to stay?

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 38 /|\

8 months later…

“You know..I think the flu looks good on you, my love. You should try having it more often,” I smile, kneeling on our bed to gently kiss my wife’s swollen stomach.

Winnie’s curls are haphazardly spilling from the lopsided space buns she allowed Dorie to give her before the baby shower earlier today. And, despite the fact its November in the Alps, she has her old yellow muumuu rolled up over her stomach. Yet, even with her face washed clean of all makeup, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her bare belly shakes as she giggles, and I can only smile at the joy radiating from her.

“Noo. You think your son looks good on me, and you would just love to see me pregnant every year, wouldn’t you?” She teases.

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I sit up to capture her foot, which is delightfully ticklish. “I’m sorry, is that an offer, Winnie? Because I’m quite willing to oblige.”

“No!” She exclaims through her giggles as she tries to pull her foot back. “It wasn’t an offer! We have to add bedrooms onto the house first, so let’s make it through this birth before planning the next!”

I softly kiss her foot as I chuckle. “What? We can practice. We can call it a pre-qualification offer.”

“That’s not fair!” She laughs as I kiss her ankle. “You’re cheating! Besides, we already have an offer on the table that we need to discuss.”

With a reluctant sigh, I return her leg to the pillow and crawl towards her. “Ok, but my offer is much more fun,” I say, positioning myself against the headboard. “Come here, dove.”

I help her sit up, gently lifting her to sit between my legs, her back pressed to my chest. When I wrap my arms around her, with her belly resting in my hands, she sighs in relief as I gently lift, holding the weight for her.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful man to have ever walked the Earth? May you be blessed with a whole tribe of children,” Winnie groans.

I chuckle in response. “What a way to bless yourself, Mama.”

“I really did, didn’t I?” she giggles, her head rolling back to rest against my shoulder. “I love you, Michou.”

“I love you too, Winnie. As the stars grace the night sky.”

Pressing a kiss to the side of her head, I close my eyes and soak in the moment. I could sit like this all evening, holding two-thirds of my life in my hands.

We’re just missing Dorie, but her grandparents were happy to take her this evening so Winnie and I could unwind. They’ve been such a wonderful help since Winnie, Dorie and I moved back home in August.

After two false negatives, we finally received confirmation that Winnie was pregnant at the end of March. That was only after convincing her to go paragliding, where she threw up as we glided over Annecy.

It was all I could do to keep us aloft and keep her calm while she…fed the birds. We can laugh about it now, but that is an experience I’d rather not repeat.

Finding and setting up the right doctors took time, all while we decided what to pack, what to leave behind to rent the apartment furnished, and getting the apartment cleaned up.

We were overjoyed when my claim for full custody of Dorie was awarded in July after Ivette failed to respond in time. Unfortunately, despite making a provision for her to have supervised visits once a week, she only reached out once, to let me know that she was moving to Bali with her U-Star boyfriend.

Apparently, making online travel videos with him is her big dream. I don’t know if she’ll ever come around for Dorie’s sake, but I wish her well.

Closing that chapter of our lives was a relief, to be honest. Having that pressure off allowed us to fully concentrate on the pregnancy and the move. A move that was strenuous enough on Winnie, considering she uprooted her whole life. I’m still surprised Winnie so willingly gave up all of her closet space in Manhattan for a rack and a couple of dresser drawers.

Thankfully, Nick knew of an actor in need of an apartment for his family of five. He was more than happy to rent from Bronwyn, and we were grateful to get a reliable tenant.

We still had to go through the process of unpacking and getting the house baby ready when we arrived here. Yet, with Winnie’s input, baby proofing went much smoother than it did for Dorie.

I had never heard of converting a walk in closet into a nursery. However, now that the pearl green paint is on the walls, and the crib and changing table set up, I can’t imagine anything else.

Adrien is only here for another two months as he navigates yet another job change. Going from being a pilot with the Civil Security airborne fire brigade to being an extreme sports operator won’t be easy. But, until his sports shop opens next month, he’s moonlighting as a pilot for Ben.

I’m sure with what Ben pays, Adrien’s new house build further up the mountain will be nearly paid for by the time it’s completed at the end of next month. Despite his nonchalant exterior, as a one-time musician, my brother has a sensitive side, so I worry about his solitude.

After losing a close friend to a heart attack at a young age, we didn’t know if Adrien would pull through the depression. His whole life was upended as a result, and it took years for him to resemble himself again. Yet, seeing him here today, laughing with the family and trying his best to win every game gave me hope that he’ll be alright.

He only just resumed playing his guitar over the summer, and he seems to have slowed his serial dating lifestyle, but he’s also hyper focused on getting the shop set up. Who knows what will happen when he’s settled in his routine.

So, while his move frees the spare bedroom for our son, and I’m glad he’ll have his own space, I’ll miss Adrien being so close.

Speaking of our son, we’ve known the baby’s gender since July, but we chose to keep it a secret until today. Funny enough, as excited as our families were, no one was more excited than Sam. She and Ben came over from Genève where they both now work for a company by the name of Ebon Manhattans.

In fact, they’re the reason Winnie and I have an offer to discuss in the first place. Ben is the CEO of the company, and he brought Sam over as his COO. Personally, I’m surprised she didn’t laugh in his face, but who can really understand the love/snark relationship between those two?

“Ohhh, I really needed this. What a day, hm?” Winnie drowsily murmurs.

I snort. “Do you think Nick has recovered from carrying Briony during the three legged baby stroller race?”

Winnie’s shoulders shake as she chuckles. “Bri isn’t that big. She’s only six months along.”

“With twins!” I scoff. “She’s huge!”

I know I’m in trouble when Bronwyn twists her head around to give me a look. “Respectfully, of course,” I hurry to add, which appeases her. “So, what about the offer do you want to discuss?”

“I want to know what you think. You didn’t say much when Ben asked you to join as the Chief Legal Officer, saying you owe him a favor.”

I raise my brows as I ponder it. “I’ve only been Deputy General Counsel for three months. I don’t think I’m qualified to take on such a senior role.”

“Ben seems to think you are.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him. First he announces he’s moving to this venture capitalist firm, that’s apparently a big deal, and he drags Sam along with him. But, now he’s trying to pad the board with his friends? That seems strange.”

“How did you meet, Ben?” Winnie abruptly asks.

I shrug. “It was just one of those things that happen where you meet someone, and before you know it, they’re in your life forever.”

A pause, then, “I don’t think that’s an answer, Michou.”

Chuckling, I kiss her temple. “Good point. Let’s just say our paths crossed eleven years ago, when I worked with the police.”

She hums. “Do you think he’s involved in something illegal?”

“Ha,” I scoff. “No. I should point out he was the victim in the situation that brought us together, not the offender.”

Nodding, she asks, “Do you want to join him?”

“Hm. There are several things I have to consider. Timing is a big consideration. Our little rabbit will be here in three weeks. I’m not leaving you every day to deal with him alone. I want to be here with you.”

She nods, but remains quiet as I continue.

“Then, there’s the offer Ben made to you. If you want to work, that’s one thing, but you aren’t compelled to do so. And, if you want to continue giving music lessons, taking on other work may prove difficult.”

As surprised as I was when Ben offered me a job, it was more surprising to learn he’d also offered Bronwyn a position as CFO.

Winnie sighs, causing her belly to move in my hands. “I thought he offered you the same option to work from home, and take your kids to work on the two days out of the month we would need to be in the office?”

I grimace. “That’s true, but I don’t want to sacrifice our family in any way.”

“Hmm. Do you trust him?”

“Without question,” I confirm, to which she nods.

“I worked with him in some capacity for over five years. I think he can be trusted as well, and I’m interested to see what it would be like to work for a company that’s interested in people. I’ve looked at their portfolio of successful investments over the last five years, and I have to say, it’s impressive. I think I’m going to accept his offer.”

I raise my brows. “Starting when?”

“Since there’s still a few weeks until our little rabbit arrives, I can get the process of onboarding done now, and get a grasp of the role. Despite the amount of investments and size of the portfolio, it’s still a startup, so there will be growing pains. But, I wouldn’t start the heavy lifting until well after the baby is born.”

I hum as she continues.

“Ben said I can set my hours after maternity leave, and thankfully he’s familiar with the role, so he can pinch hit when I need help. It would probably help if the chief legal counsel was in house..”

“So, we’re going for the hard sell now?” I chuckle.

“Only if it works.”

When she turns her head to offer a kiss, I catch the flash of her dimple as she smiles. Moments later, when she’s once again comfortably resting against my chest, she sighs contentedly as I nuzzle her head.

“Well, what do you think, Mr. Renard? I think I can do it. After all, Mom started her firm with twins. But, at the same time, I won’t do it if you think it will cost us family time. You, Dorie, our little one—you’re all my top priority, over any curiosity I have.”

I hum, not remotely concerned that she would let work crowd out our family. But, it needs to be something that she wants for herself.

“I thought you wanted to do something with music?” I ask.

“At some point, I may go back to teaching a music class once a week. Depends on how much energy I have left after caring for your son.”

Chuckling, I nip her neck. “Our son may leave you tired and grouchy, but I’ll be here. If you want to give it a try, then go for it. I’ll support you. We’ll loop my parents in to see if they’re willing to watch Dorie for the few hours between school and the end of our work day. If not, we can find someone to bridge the gap.”

“And, you?” She inquires. “Will you join?”

“Hmm. It would be nice to work together again. It’s also helpful that I wouldn’t have to commute to Genève every day, and can work from home with you. But, something is sticking in the back of my mind. Once I figure it out, then I’ll know for sure.”

“Ok. But I want you to know, I’ll support you, too. Just like you supported me by having my piano brought here, so I could teach music if I wanted, I have your back, too.”

My heart fills with warmth and gratitude that a woman like her saw something of value in me despite the broken mess that showed up on her doorstep over a year ago. “Thank you, dove. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She chuckles. “You’d shuffle along the ground, looking at the birds in the sky, wishing you could fly.”

I laugh. “Are you suggesting that you give me wings?”

“Not at all,” she giggles, reaching back to rub my head. “God gives you wings, I’m just the bird that convinced you yours still work. Now we get to fly together.”

I melt against her. “You, my love, are reason enough to fly every day.”

She chuckles. “Sweet talker. You’re about to bring up a baby-moon again, aren’t you?”

I laugh in response. “You know me so well…”

2 Weeks Later…

“Michou?”

I look up from the onions I’m dicing at the sound of Winnie’s voice. “Yes, my love?”

There’s a river trailing behind her, and as she silently nears the kitchen island, her face contorts in pain. Zut.

“Mama’s stomach hurts!” Dorie smartly proclaims.

She already has a towel like we practiced in the event Winnie’s water broke at home, so she’s on the floor, doing her best to clean the water up.

“Good job, little koala,” I call to our daughter, as I briskly wash my hands.

“He’s a week early.” Winnie’s voice is strained, as she reaches for a bar stool. “I should have known your son would insist on his right to be here when he wants...”

Her voice trails off as she breathes through the contraction.

“He’s just excited to meet us,” I less than helpfully supply, while grasping her hand. But, I quickly change my tune as she does her best to crush my hand until the contraction passes.

“That’s right, don’t let him bully you, dove. How far apart are they now?”

“About five minutes apart for the last hour, but that one was four minutes.”

She’s white knuckling the back of the barstool, as I carefully peel her hand away from mine. “Can you get me another dress? It’s too cold to go out in these wet clothes.”

“Ok, call Mama so she can pick up Dorie, and I’ll get in contact with the midwife. I’ll be right back. ”

Throwing the vegetables in the refrigerator, I drop a kiss on her forehead before racing upstairs to grab a dress, dialing the birth center as I go. After stopping by the storage room to grab the overnight bag we already packed for a few days’ stay, I head downstairs.

When I get back to Winnie, it’s obvious she’s in pain, but her dark eyes are also shining with excitement. I wrap an arm around her as I kiss her forehead. “Let’s change your dress so we can meet our son.”

By the time Mama arrives, Winnie and I are ready to go. We reach the birth center in record time, and within the space of 16 hours I go from calm control, to being a nervous wreck with my hair standing on end.

One moment, my darling wife is telling me I’m stressing her out, and the next is followed by the most peaceful, glorious moment when the midwife places our son on Winnie’s chest.

Tears of joy flow down our faces as I kiss my wife and son, and feel my heart expand, just as it did the day I laid eyes on Dorie. Unlike our daughter, our son, whom we decide to name Alexandre Auguste Michel Renard, is born with a head full of light brown, silken curls and bright blue eyes.

However, just like his sister, when he latches onto my finger, I don’t want to let go. Yet, in between feedings and diaper changes, I’m forced to give him up as I see to making Winnie comfortable and taking care of my personal needs.

Family and a few old friends trickle in and out during visitation hours bringing laughter, flowers and gifts for baby and Mama. And, I have so many pictures of Dorie and Alex, they will no doubt require their own photo album.

Despite the fact Briony and Nick won’t be here until the weekend, and her parents won’t make it until next month, Winnie is happy, but tired and sleeping when she can. When I gift her a diamond and aquamarine bracelet and earring set, she promptly bursts into tears as I tell her she’s worth far more.

As long as I live, I’ll never be able to convey how thankful I am that she didn’t write me off. Instead, she saw past my stubborn spirit, to the man I am inside, and she wanted me anyway. She gave me the family I always wanted, but was too afraid to try for.

How could she possibly think the cost of those few trinkets comes anywhere near her value in my eyes?

I only wanted her to know that I love and appreciate her. However, when I suggested I should have waited until the birth hormones left her system to give it to her, she slapped me in the chest before kissing me so deeply, the poor nurse had to clear her throat to remind us we weren’t alone.

It’s late afternoon, when I’m returning to Winnie’s room, that I run into an unexpected visitor casually lounging against the wall. A broad smile spreads across my face as Ben straightens to offer a hug, his preferred greeting when not at work.

Unlike the dark suits that he usually wears to the office, today Ben is more casually dressed in a fleece lined, leather bomber jacket tossed over his dark outfit. Yet, on his tall frame, it looks much more stylish than the cream henley I threw on this morning.

“Alex is a week early. I didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” I say, stepping back. “I thought you were heading to Quebec.”

“It’s not like I had a choice,” he smirks, nodding at the door. “We were only in the air an hour when we got your pictures. Apparently, Adrien thinks Sam pays his bills, because as soon as she told him the news, he turned the plane around. Of course, it’s what I should do for my CFO, so, congratulations, I guess.”

“See, that attitude is why you’ll have to wait until my third son to have a baby named after you.” I laugh, waving him over to a pair of chairs.

He quietly chuckles as we take a seat. “It’s so hard being an uncle. But, as long as my namesake is as cute as Alex, I can wait.”

I eye him as his eyes rove the hallway, but constantly flick to Winnie’s door, where Sam’s cheery laughter spills out. I give him a nudge. “Of course, by then you may be well on your way to having your own.”

But instead of laughing, he runs a hand through his dark locks, muttering, “I wish I had your confidence right now.”

I raise my brows at my generally unflappable friend, noting the dark smudges under his eyes. “Why not tell Sam how you feel?”

Ben sighs deeply, his dark eyes once again flicking to the door and back to me. “It’s not that simple. I ended up in a side quest that I didn’t anticipate for at least another year. I’m already in too deep. It’s a critical time, and I need to focus on Ebon Manhattans.”

I only recently learned that Ben has been involved in a campaign to oust the corrupt Chairman of GPMP. Things seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace, but he was making steady progress until he abruptly resigned nearly two months ago.

Frowning, I turn to face him. “Are you in trouble?”

He shakes his head as he begins spinning the black metal ring on his forefinger. “No. I’ve managed to stay ahead of the Chairman, but I’ll feel much better when I secure a squirrelly investment.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better about coming to work for you,” I grumble.

“For Ebon Manhattans, you mean,” he frowns, before his eyes clear in understanding. “Ah. You know.”

Narrowing my eyes, I stare at him unblinking. “And, when were you going to tell us who the owner of the company is?”

Ben sighs. “When you signed an NDA. There’s still a lot you don’t know.”

“Then, I think it’s time you explain it.”

After sending a message to Winnie to let her know where I am, I fold my arms. I’m confident Sam will step outside to let me know if I’m needed. But for now… “What’s going on?”

Ben’s eyes darken as he spins his ring, but he must make some decision because he leans in, his face as serious as I’ve ever seen it.

“Michel, I’m juggling a runaway asset, a corporate saboteur, not to mention a double fake engagement..there’s too much going on to explain now. But, let me give you the abbreviated version…”

Twenty minutes later, he looks at me solemnly. “Now you see why I need people I can trust. My people, like you, Bronwyn, and Sam. It won’t work otherwise.”

Pursing my lips. “I don’t mind assuming the risks, but I won’t put my family in danger.”

Ben shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask if there was the remotest chance of it, but, the Chairman’s focus is me. That being said, I’ve put several security features in place at the office that I think you’ll approve of, and you can arrange your schedule as you see fit.”

“And, Sam? She’s with you at every moment. Isn’t she in danger?”

His eyes harden as he stares at the door, his jaw clenching. “I’ll cut her out of my life before I let anything happen to her.”

My brows rise, knowing he means it, but I’m not sure he could withstand that blow. He’s staking everything on this fight.

He looks at me earnestly, his dark green eyes locked on mine. “I’m close, Michou. After eleven years, this is nearly over. Too much blood has already been shed. This needs to end. So, can I count on you?”

Without another moment’s hesitation, I clap a hand on my friend’s shoulder. “Where do I sign?”

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 38 /|\

Thank you for reading When You’re Enough!

Continue reading for a description of the next book in the Workplace Heroes Series!

An energetic executive finds herself bound to her brilliant, mysterious, and endlessly aggravating COO when he saves her life and claims forever as the debt she owes.

Dragged to Switzerland and beyond while thrust into a world far more dangerous than the one they left behind, she discovers the man beneath the armor—the one who calls her his lioness, and looks at her like she’s the only thing he refuses to lose. But as he hunts a killer poised to strike again, she realizes survival may depend on staying at his side…and trusting him with her heart may be the most dangerous choice she’ll ever make.

Vow It’s Enough blends slow‑burn romance with suspense in a clean, dual‑POV story where the fake‑engagement tension between a secret billionaire boss and his second in command ignites two hearts, who discover a love powerful enough to fight for.

See the moment Samantha and Benton’s story collide!

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 37 /|\ Next Chapter → Epilogue

Dad marches straight towards us, a glint in his eye as he sizes up Michel. Now, I’m afraid for Michel. Dad may not be cut from the statue of a Greek hero, but he’s a big guy himself. Add the fact that he’s a career soldier and..well…that is not a fight I want to see.

Taking Michel’s hand, I step squarely in front of him as Dad quietly barks, “You’re going to tell me what you’re doing here. Right now.”

His voice brooks no argument, and Michel must sense it because he immediately says, “I’m here for your daughter Mr. Sullivan.”

Dad’s face immediately reddens as his eyes flick back and forth between me and Michel. “I can see that. Why?”

Michel’s fingers graze my palm, immediately calming me as he says, “That is not something I’m yet at liberty to discuss.”

I realize in that moment just how much Michel loves me. He doesn’t curb his words for anyone. If he has something to say, he says it.

Yet, here he is, despite everything, willing to face down his angry Father In-Law, to protect me in the way he thinks I want. My heart overflows with love for him in that moment, as I grip his hand.

Mom’s brows rise as Dad’s coloring deepens. “Well, someone better tell me something, or you can see yourself out! This is a private—”

“Dad,” I quietly interject, waiting until his eyes drop to mine. “He has a right to be here, as much as you do. Michel isn’t just my roommate,” I say calmly. “He’s my best friend, he’s the love of my life, and..he’s also my husband.”

Mom’s gasp as her hands fly to cover her mouth is drowned out when Dad bellows, “WHAT?”

Michel pulls me closer as I firmly nod, reaching up to pull my gold locket from inside my dress. “We were married at the end of September. We work together, and you’ll remember that was around the time of the shooting in our office.

Well, Michel here saved my life. He saved all of our lives that day, but I, for sure, wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for him. We were married a few days later.”

Mom gasps as I unclasp the locket, pull out my wedding ring, and slip it on behind my ‘engagement’ ring. It fits perfectly, and as I hold my hand up, all of the color drains from Dad’s face.

“You told us you had a corporate lunch the day of the shooting!” He whispers hoarsely.

I reach back, once again taking Michel’s hand as I nod.

“I did have a lunch. I was on my way, standing in front of the elevator, when the doors opened and we saw the gunman. If it weren’t for Michel’s quick thinking, I would have died on the spot.

Then, after sending the gunman to an empty floor above us, it was Michel who called 911 as he hauled me through the office, sounding the warning. And, after barricading us in my office, he covered me as the bullets flew.”

My eyes plead for them to understand, while Dad silently eyes me in horror. Yet, Mom steps forward, embracing me in a tight hug. “Oh, Bronwyn!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you..I didn’t want you to worry,” I sigh in the warmth of her embrace.

“It’s our job to worry, honey, but to keep something like this from us..all of this…we appreciate you had your reasons, but I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t talk to us.”

She reaches out to pull Michel into the hug, and when she steps back, her eyes are wet as she takes Dad’s hand.

The horror in Dad’s eyes has slightly dimmed, with something like respect taking root as he looks at Michel. Clearing his throat, he gruffly says, “It seems you’ve done us an outstanding service, son.”

Extending his hand, he firmly grasps Michel’s in a firm shake. I can’t help but notice the tear in my father’s eye when he swallows. “Thank you isn’t enough, but the fact that I haven’t killed you for marrying my daughter behind my back should properly convey the sincerity of my gratitude.”

A knot forms in my throat, as I remember the sound of the bullets coming through the walls above us, then Michel’s whispered words of comfort. I look up at him then, and his gentle eyes caress me in a way that I wish he would. When I lean back against him, he wraps an arm around my shoulders cocooning me to his chest.

Dad’s light brown eyes pin mine as he purses his lips. “As for you, young woman. We have a lot to talk about. I understand gratitude, but marrying your hero is-it’s—”

I firmly shake my head. “Michou is so much more to me than that, Dad. I love this man with everything that I am, and—”

Michel spins me around, his eyes watering. “I knew it was true,” he whispers. “I knew you wouldn’t just leave without some—”

“No, Michel,” I interrupt. “It changes nothing. There’s a reason that I left, and I can’t say what—”

“PAPA!”

I whirl around at the sound of Dorie’s voice as she runs towards us. Despite the tears streaming down her face, she’s adorable in the cream and fur lined coat that I bought for her before I left.

An older, red faced woman whom I don’t recognize, rounds the door, huffing behind Dorie. She collapses against the door frame when she sees Michel, exclaiming, “I’m sorry, Mr. Renard! She got away from me!”

Dorie’s eyes are firmly on Michel as she hurtles towards us, but when her eyes swing to mine, my tears spill down my cheeks as her face brightens in a brilliant smile.

“Mama!” She cries, hurtling towards me instead. “Papa didn’t say you were here!”

As she launches herself at me, I grab her out of the air squeezing her to me. “Oh! Doriane!” I cry out, my heart overwhelmed with the joy of seeing her again. “My sweet girl! I’ve missed you so much!”

Dorie begins wailing, and now we’re both a crying mess as I stroke her hair and try to soothe her. “Shh, shh, my sweet. I’m here now. Everything’s fine,” I whisper in French.

Michel gently smiles as he uses his handkerchief to dab at our faces. However, Dad and Mom are frozen in shock as they look at me, and I realize I’ve left out another key feature of my story.

“Bronwyn, what on Earth is going on?” Briony’s voice comes crashing in as she storms up to us.

I whirl around to look at her wide eyed. I completely forgot that she’s also clueless. Zut.

Michel clears his throat, but I glance at him with a shake of my head. Shooting Briony a look that brooks no argument, I nod towards my parents. “Stand over there.”

Her brows extend even further towards her hairline, but she complies as I turn to face the three of them. “Michel, my love,” I say glancing at him, “This is my Dad, Joe Sullivan, my Mom, Tonya Sullivan, and my sister, Briony Su—Bri are you hyphenating or not?”

Briony rolls her eyes. “I’m Briony Bancroft, thank you very much.”

I smile. “Ok, good to know. Mom, Dad, Bri, this is my husband, former Captain in the GIGN, and currently the Senior Foreign-In House Counsel at GPMP, Michel Renard. And, this is our daughter, Doriane Renard.”

Dorie’s tear stained face comes up from the crook of my neck to peek at the three sets of eyes that have swung to her. She looks up at me. “Mama, are they your family?”

“Yes, sugar bee. They’re my family,” I smile dropping a kiss on her forehead.

Her little fingers wrap around the chain of my locket as her brown eyes look up at me shyly. “Does that mean they’re my family, too?”

My heart drops as I look at my family, who stare back at me dumbfounded. When Dad gives himself a shake, marches over to us, and clears his throat, it’s my turn to look on in shock. “Hi, Doriane…it looks like I’m your grandpa.”

Dorie mouths the word ‘grandpa,’ with wide eyes, and when Dad smiles gently and extends his hands, she surprises me by stretching towards him. As he envelops her in his arms, she smiles and sweetly says, “Grandpa, my name is Dorie!”

As Mom crosses over to coo with Dad over their new grandchild, Briony approaches, shaking her head. “Bronwyn, Bronwyn, Bronwyn. Or should I call you Winnie?”

The words are meant to sting, but I take comfort in the slight teasing tone. “Don’t you dare,” I smile.

She raises a brow, “Did I say you can smile? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I know,” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to ruin your day—”

Her laughter interrupts me, and as tears gather at the corners of her eyes, Michel and I begin chuckling as well.

“Ruined?” She finally gasps. “No, girl. Look around! Do you have any idea how much my husband, the movie star, loves drama? And, you just dropped a heap in our laps. This is the best wedding gift you could have given us.

Add the fact that instead of one son in-law, our parents have two plus a grandchild? I think Nick owes you money. Now he can share all of Dad’s attention with Michel and Dorie.”

She then extends a hand to Michel, her dimples flashing with her bright smile. “Congratulations, and welcome to the family, Michel. I look forward to getting to the bottom of this after my honeymoon.”

“Congratulations to you,” Michel offers, extending an envelope towards her after they shake hands. “And, I’m sorry for the trouble.”

She tilts her head, eyeing him with a nod. “You pass.”

He chuckles as she turns back to hug me, whispering near my ear, “You have exactly ten days to get your story together, because when I get back, I want all the details.”

Then, giving me a kiss on the cheek, she straightens. “Now excuse me while I fill in the rest of the party with what’s happening, and have more seats added to the table.”

“Wait—” I start to say with a frown. They can’t stay. They shouldn’t even be here, but as Michel takes my hand, I can’t remember what I was going to say.

“Come with me,” he says, tugging me towards the corner of the room. I glance back at Dorie, but she’s busy charming the socks off her grandparents with a song.

The music resumes as we step into the pool of sunlight streaming through one of the massive windows in the hall, and that’s when I notice the dark circles under Michel’s eyes. Without thinking I reach up to rest a hand on his cheek.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” I sigh.

Resting a hand on mine, his eyes smolder as he looks down at me, and I’m..burnt to a crisp, a brisket of charcoal.

“How could I sleep without you beside me, my love?”

I shrug, feeling miserable. “I know the feeling, but,” I say, steeling myself for the task ahead. “It’s for the best. It’s the only way I can protect you and Dorie.”

“I know already, my love,” he quickly says, clasping both of my hands in his. “I spoke to Ivette. I heard the recording..I heard what happened that day.”

What in the name of durian! How could she do that him?

Tears spring to my eyes as I search his for any vestige of devastation, but all that shines back is love.

He switches to French as he quietly says, “I already knew, my love. What she told you wasn’t new to me.”

My heart drops. “How long have you known?”

He takes my hand and presses a kiss to my fingers. “I had an idea, but I didn’t know for sure until Dorie was born. I knew when the nurse placed her in my arms, but I decided to be a father that day, and every day since.

I’m only sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s honestly not something I think about often, and it’s not something the courts care about.”

“Oh.” That’s all I can say, because wooow. Ivette really had me going…but I should have known. I could kick myself for all the grief I caused us over the last two weeks. Yet, rather than be upset with me, Michel’s looking at me as if he could kiss me.

I shake my head to clear it as I look up at him, and my heart spills over with love. This must be why heart eye emojis exist.

“So,” I step closer to him, my voice quivering with emotion. “What you’re saying is..you’re a Gift Papa.”

Michel’s eyes darken as he looks at me and nods, putting his hand around my waist to pull me in close. “You could say I’m a secret Gift Papa.”

I reach up to run a hand through his hair. “You’re just a gift. I love you, Michou,” I whisper.

He lightly brushes his fingers over my brow, and down the side of my neck. “Bronwyn, I want you to know something,” he says looking at me solemnly.

“You and Dorie are my loves, but you are the only love of my life and..I’m completely in love with you. For me, there’s no future without you in it. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and I can’t live without you. Please, don’t ever think about leaving me again, dove.”

I blink back tears as I gaze up at my husband. “Never again, Mr. Renard.” With a smile, I grab his tie and pull him closer.

He clears his throat as he gazes at me, inches from my face. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Sure,” I smirk.

“I’m going to kiss you now. But, I want you to be warned, when we turn around, there’s going to be a large audience.”

“Hmm,” I smile, my eyes dropping to his lips. “They did miss the wedding. Maybe we can recreate the moment.”

“My pleasure,” he whispers against my lips, before pulling me into an urgent kiss. I mean…are those drapes on fire above us? Because this kiss is..whew!

And, when he dips me, I groan. No, I really groan.

My eyes fly open when my stomach heaves, and I tap him to let me up. I don’t make it three steps before I lose my breakfast all over those beautiful wood floors.

As Briony and Mom race over, Michel places his handkerchief in my hands and bends to lift me in his arms. The soft cloth smells like him, and I dazedly press it to my mouth as he follows Briony and Mom to the little waiting room just outside of the hall.

Looking around the blue room, I recognize it as the one Briony waited in earlier before the ceremony started.

“Bronwyn, what’s the matter, my love?” Michel’s eyes look down at me full of concern as he settles on the couch with me in his lap.

“It’s really nothing. I feel better already,” I murmur.

Briony rushes forward with a bottle of water as Mom fans me with.. “Is that your purse?” I smile wanly.

“Well, you need air!” She exclaims, fanning frantically. I take a sip from the bottle that Michel presses to my lips before holding up a hand. “I’m fine. It’s just the Thai food from two nights ago. It was spicy and didn’t agree with me.”

“Do you think it’s the flu?” Briony asks, wringing her hands. “You know you don’t do well with the flu. Remember that time she ended up in the hospital, Mom?”

I take a sip from the bottle that Michel presses to my lips before holding up a hand. “I’m fine. It’s just the Thai food from two nights ago. It was spicy and didn’t agree with me.”

Michel frowns down at me. “Where are you staying? Maybe I can find some soup.”

Before I can respond, Briony scoffs. “In these parts? No, I’ll just go back to the inn we’re staying in and make her some soup. It won’t take long.”

Mom shakes her head with a little smile, her dark eyes softening as she looks at me. “You’d better be prepared to make a lot of soup. Bronwyn isn’t sick..she’s pregnant.”

“What?” Michel and Briony exclaim.

But I start giggling as I hold my belly. “Oh, Mom, my stomach. Please don’t make me laugh. I already told you, it’s something I ate. Besides, I can’t be pregnant.”

I look up at Michel who looks down at me in shock. Another wave of nausea hits me, and I close my eyes. “Michel it was only…the once. It’s probably..the flu or something.”

“You know it only takes one time, don’t you?” Mom’s chuckle has my eyes popping open as she shakes her head and runs a hand over my brow. “You said you were tired a lot over the last few days. When is your period due?”

“Tomorrow, I think,” I say, sitting up with the sudden realization.

Two weeks ago…was I ovulating?

My wide eyes find Michel’s as it dawns on both of us…I’m not on birth control. We didn’t even think..isn’t it too soon to tell?

He starts to smile, and I can’t help the smile that blooms with the sliver of hope in my heart as I cover my mouth. “We have to find out for sure..”

Briony then starts cackling hysterically, before softly exclaiming, “One shot!”

“I’ll one shot you if you don’t get me a car. I need to get to the drug store. Like yesterday!” I exclaim.

Michel pulls me towards him. “Stay here, dove. I have a car—”

“Nope!” I wince, as I stand a bit too abruptly, feeling overwhelmed. “So you can get into an accident and go into a coma and I’ll have the baby alone, and you won’t recognize either of us when you wake up? Absolutely not! We’ll go together.”

The three of them burst into laughter, shaking their heads.

“What?” I exclaim. “It could happen!”

Michel stands, taking me by the hand as he presses a kiss to my lips. “My love, let’s make sure our children are well into adulthood before we show them a drama.”

I giggle, immediately calming as we part ways with Mom and Briony, and turn towards the exit. “Fair enough. How old are you thinking?”

“Hmm,” he smiles, a teasing light in his eyes. “Maybe when they’re old enough to find the person they’re looking for? That should be good.”

“That could take forever!” I exclaim, stopping to look at him in shock.

Michel wraps me up in another tender kiss before gazing at me in satisfaction. Brushing a thumb over my cheek, he softly murmurs, “However long it takes, it will be more than worth the wait, my love.”

Leaning into his hand, I smile as I gaze up at him lovingly. “I couldn’t agree more.”

T H E 💕 E N D

Stay tuned for the epilogue!

“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”—Dr. Seuss

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 37 /|\ Next Chapter → Epilogue

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 36 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 38

“I don’t understand why you’d do something so tacky, Bronwyn. You know that finger is for engagement and wedding rings.”

Mom’s using her Clair Huxtable voice, and I know I should take it off at her request, but I look down at the snowflake on my finger…and I can’t. Instead I watch the baggage handlers load our luggage on the plane. “I like it, Mom,” I offer tiredly instead.

Leaving for England a week early and crashing at Evie’s house? Best decision I could have made. Deciding to travel to Bakewell with the parents…not so much.

I love them, I do..they’re just driving me crazy. I should have ridden with Nick’s family, who are all driving since Evie’s too far along in her pregnancy to fly.

I needed the time to beat the jet lag and think about the situation with Michel. It was Evie who noticed me moping around, despite my best efforts to put on a happy face for all the festivities. As it turns out, Evie is a psychologist, and after assuring me she could keep a secret, I spilled the whole story to her.

Having a good cry and a listening ear was exactly what I needed. When she asked what I wanted to do, I only had a hazy idea. I’ve been thinking it’s time to look for other work.

I wasn’t sure where I would live with Michel and Dorie in the apartment, but I’d have to figure something out. Paying for two places isn’t an option, and if Michel decides this is the end of the road, I’m not sure I could live in the same city. It would be too painful.

So, when Evie suggested putting the feelers out for work in London, and offered to let me crash at her house, I took it seriously. And, after going back and forth for a couple of days, I decided to do it.

Briony would be in London half the year anyway. I could continue paying my half of the HOA fee until Michel leaves…and maybe I wouldn’t go back to New York after all.

That apartment holds every good memory I have..and also the most painful moments of my life. I could rent it out, and at market rate, I could possibly explore the chance to teach music.

That’s when I extended my ticket. With the amount of vacation time I have stored, I wouldn’t need to return to GPMP until early May, if I return at all.

So I took it. All of it—with the plan to stay in London until after Evie’s little girl is born, and give her a little help with her two boys.

Every day I wake up in tears, missing Michel and Dorie. Yet, having a plan of action meant I could start being present for Briony, and actually soak up the moments of the following week.

Like seeing Briony nearly pass out when she found out we were here for her wedding, watching her fall in love with her wedding dress, and singing karaoke at her bachelorette party.

It made me realize how much I missed my sister, and when I told her that, we both cried like babies. We both agreed to put forth more effort to spend time together in the future, then we binge watched a C-drama with Evie. And, it was all possible because I took Michel’s advice and just told Briony how I felt.

But, once I started being honest about my feelings, I couldn’t seem to stop. After all these months with Michel and his blunt way of speaking, I’m having a hard time keeping my inside thoughts from becoming outside thoughts.

It’s probably worse today since I’m not feeling well. Ever since Briony insisted we have Thai food last night, and we sat down to the spiciest meal I’ve had in months, I’ve been feeling queasy.

I just want to spend the flight to Manchester in peace..and hopefully Alfie assigns me to a different car than my parents when we arrive.

“You should listen to your mother,” Dad intones from behind the in-flight magazine.

“I think I can decide what ring to put on what finger, Dad,” I offer quietly.

His sharp brown eyes turn to me. “Then, why does your mother seem to think you’ve got it wrong?”

This is the part where I should button it up, but instead I shrug. “I think that’s a question for her, Dad.”

He scowls, but surprisingly, says nothing, opting to return to his luxury good product placements.

“If you knew which finger to put it on, you wouldn’t have chosen that one!” Mom frowns, her long twists grazing her bright red sweater with each shake of her head.

As I eye her from across the aisle of the small jet, wondering how I got stuck in the same row with them, Briony turns around from her seat front of me.

“Who cares what finger it’s on? She says she likes it.”

Nick is a pretty smart guy…so he keeps his head down.

“What it matters is propriety, Briony,” Mom smoothly interjects. “People will think she’s engaged. Where will she be then?”

My stomach gurgles as I roll my head towards Mom. I really need some ginger ale. “Who cares what people think, Mom?”

Dad roughly breaks in. “I think the real question is why she’s wearing such a fancy ring in the first place. Crime is at an all time high. It’s not the time to be so flashy.”

I snort. “Dad, Bri’s wearing a ring far flashier than mine.”

Truly, her sapphire and diamond engagement ring is stunning, and if a robber had to choose between us, I’d be very afraid if I were her.

Dad sits up to look squarely at me. “Yeah, but Briony has a built in bodyguard. Right, Nick?”

Nick glances over his shoulder, and in his posh English accent says, “Staying out of this one, thanks!”

“And, if no one decides to be my personal bodyguard?” I grumble. “What then, Dad? Am I supposed to remain single and plain?”

“Well..uh, what’s so wrong about that?” Dad’s face reddens, as he sputters in disbelief.

“We don’t need bodyguards,” Briony smirks, shoving Nick in the shoulder. Reaching over the seat, she lifts my hand to get a good look at my ring.

“Wow!” She whistles. “This must have set you back a pretty penny. It’s beautiful!”

“Thanks,” I smile. “I couldn’t resist it.” What I don’t say, is that I couldn’t resist Michel.

Mom snorts as Briony sits down. “It’s beautiful alright, it would just look better on another finger.”

Dad sighs. “For once I’m going to disagree. The less men looking at her, the better.”

“She’ll never find someone if men think she’s already taken, Joe,” Mom blinks in surprise.

I can’t blame her. Dad never takes my side, yet dreams can come true. Even if that isn’t exactly my thought on the matter.

“Weren’t you the one saying that I should stop dreaming?” I say, just to tease her.

Mom looks at me curiously. “I didn’t say give up! It’s like you and Briony switched places on me! She’s getting married and you don’t care anymore? What is happening right now?”

I know it’s a rhetorical question, but I feel compelled to respond. “Maybe I’ve finally stopped dreaming, and decided to enjoy real life. So congratulations. I’ve quit my search for love. You can count me out and just look to Briony and Nick for all your future grandchildren.”

Mom looks stricken by the thought, but Dad nods. “That’s great, honey. There’s less chance of me having to break out the six shooter.”

I close my eyes as the pilot makes the announcement that we’re about to take off.

As much as I hate to believe it, being abandoned by his second wife is probably the last straw for Michel. It’s not like he wanted to be married in the first place. He’ll likely draw up divorce papers before the ink dries on the court order for sole custody.

I bet when I finally get the international plan added to my phone, all those voicemails that have been piling up are going to outline his relief, maybe gratitude.

I love you, Winnie.

I shake my head with a sigh, clearing the memory. Those are just words whispered in the heat of the moment. They don’t mean what I think they mean, and that’s ok. Maybe..if he gets past his feelings, we can eventually be friends again.

Yeah…you’re delusional, I snort.

When I open my eyes as the plane takes off, two pairs of eyes are glued to my face. I raise a brow as I look back at my parents. “What’s wrong?”

Mom’s eyes narrow on my face. “Are you..ok?”

“Just peachy,” I huff, closing my eyes again. “But, do me a favor? Can you wake me when the ginger ale comes around?”

The one hour flight goes by without further incident, and before we know it, we’ve been shuffled through the private terminal and waiting on the curb in a stiff wind as Alfie escorts his son, and daughter in-law to a van.

Yes, I still have to ride with my parents, and the betrayal is made even worse by the fact that Briony and Nick are traveling without us on their rented motorcycle.

“You plan to ride a motorcycle? You know how dangerous those are?” Dad exclaims as Alfie tries to hustle us into the waiting sprinter van.

Briony smirks. “I know how awesome they are! I’ve been riding for years, it’ll be fine.”

My brows rise with my parents, but while they scowl, I nod in appreciation. “Cool,” I smirk, making Briony laugh.

“You should try it sometime, Wyn. I think you’ll love it.”

“Oh, I already do. I got a chance to ride on my last trip. It was sooo much fun.”

As Briony’s jaw drops, memories trickle through my mind like the first fat drops of a rainstorm. I can still feel Michel’s leather jacket under my palms while I held on to him as we whipped around mountain curves. I still remember the sense of freedom, and elation as the wind raced around us.

My chest constricts, as I try to pull in air. This is not the time. Just hold it together, Wyn.

“Have you both lost your minds?” Dad looks between us in horror. “Do you know how many traffic fatalities involve motorcycles? You could be killed!”

“Dad..fatalities are high around vehicles of any sort. The important thing is to be a careful rider,” I say, recalling Michel’s words as I put a gentle hand on Dad’s shoulder. “And it seems that Briony must be if she’s been riding for years and still with us.”

Dad pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up at Nick. “Ok, Wyn might be a lost cause, but would you please talk some since into your wife?”

As Nick opens his mouth, Briony starts cackling. “Who do you think taught me how to ride? In fact, he bought me my first—”

Nick’s gloved hand pops over her mouth as he looks at us nervously. “That’s enough, my life…I think we need to get going.”

Dad heaves a sigh, shaking his head as he looks at Mom. “What’s going on with your daughters lately?”

“My daughters are fine, thank you very much. They’re just coming into their own, Joe. Let them.”

As I climb behind them into the waiting van, I chuckle as Dad scoffs. “I don’t know, Nya. You think so?”

I sit down in the last row, shaking my head. If they only knew the half.

The ceremony is beautiful, and goes off without a hitch. Nick is dapper in a navy suit, with a cream ascot and diamond stick pin, and Briony is stunning in the strapless white gown that drapes her in tulle and crystal embellishments.

As we move to the reception hall, the tiara resting atop her shoulder length curls sparkles as it catches the light of the chandeliers hanging above.

Beautiful sprays of blue hyacinth, white jasmine and red wine camellias perfume the air from the tall vases placed throughout the rich wood paneled room. I can’t help but marvel how closely it matches Evie’s and my navy and wine gradient off the shoulder gowns.

Yet, nothing is as radiant as the love in the air. While my sister and new brother in law gaze at each other adoringly, I sit at the long, beautifully decorated table between her and Mom, trying not to think about my own wedding.

While it wasn’t grand, I remember the feeling of uncertainty, not knowing how it would work. But, then Michel kissed me..our first real kiss, and it was everything.

In an instant, I felt a sense of belonging, of finally having a place that was only mine, even if it was temporary. That’s a big deal when you’re born sharing everything.

I tug on the chignon my curls are bundled into, wishing I could let them loose to massage the back of my neck. And, as light dinner music plays with the first course being served, everyone chatters around me, while I…I just want to go home.

My stomach churns as I stare into my plate of goat cheese and pear salad. I can smell the sharpness of the balsamic vinegar dressing, and I grimace as Mom looks over at me.

Breaking away from the lively conversation she and Dad are having with Nick’s parents, she leans in. “What’s wrong, Bronwyn? Don’t you like the salad?”

I shake my head. “I’m sure it’s fine, my stomach is just—”

BANG!

My head jerks up as the large antique door flies open, and my heart slams into my ribs as a very familiar figure bursts into the room. His wavy hair whips from side to side as he wildly looks amongst the guests, and when, his blue gaze lands on me, the intensity of the relief that passes between us leaves me breathless.

Michel came. For me.

I can’t move, I can’t say anything as I take in his navy three piece suit, and pale blue tie. I’ve never seen him more formally dressed.

Yes. Need to go home, now.

In an instant, that spell is broken when two security guards come crashing through the door behind him. One manages to get a hand on him, and after spinning out of the grip, Michel, throws a hand against his chest, sending the guard to floor, clutching his stomach. Just as fast, two more hands hit the other guard, who quickly goes down as well.

It happens so fast, I don’t have a moment to react. But, when Alfie shoots up from beside Nick, and rushes around the table towards Michel, I brace my hands on the table as I jump up.

“Wait! Stop!”

Everyone freezes, looking at me in shock, but Alfie’s fist is already flying towards Michel’s face.

“No, Alfie!” Nick shouts, but he’s too late.

However, as Alfie’s fist sails towards him, Michel dodges under his arm and sends him flying with one hard shove. Then, he’s running towards the table, towards me, a look of determination on his face.

“Stop!” I cry out. If he touches me, I’m in trouble. If I’m going to have a prayer of getting out of this without breaking his heart, he needs to leave. Now.

“Winnie, please give me a moment!” Michel pleads, his voice laced with pain.

I didn’t expect hearing his voice would hurt so much, so I stand there stunned, with no clue how to fix this.

The silence is broken by Dad’s voice ringing out as he stands, his red quiff catching the light while he glares at me and Michel.

“Will someone explain what’s going on?” He demands.

“Uh, it’s just a..big misunderstanding, Dad,” I hedge, at the same time that Michel gives Dad a curt nod and says, “I sincerely apologize for the intrusion. I didn’t expect to meet this way.”

My stomach drops as Dad’s eye twitches, while Mom begins pulling on his arm. “What way is that? Who are you?”

“Not, now, Joe,” Mom hisses as her eyes bounce between me and Michel with an apologetic smile. It quickly dawns on me that she recognizes him from the pictures I showed her at lunch a few months ago.

As he grimaces at Dad’s questions, Michel slowly walks towards the table, quietly huffing in French. “Certainly not by crashing her sister’s wedding.”

I’m surprised when Nick responds in kind. “Well, that’s a relief.”

Michel offers a brief nod, before returning his gaze to me. As Nick calls off the guards, who are now sort of awkwardly standing around, I firm up my resolve.

No matter what, I can’t tell Michel why I left. Dorie is his whole life, and the pain of knowing what Ivette did to him, and how she’ll use that against him in court won’t be on me.

As Alfie comes to stand behind me, I square my shoulders and lift my head. Despite the way my heart is rampaging through my chest, I take a deep breath, channeling Morning Wyn’s calm demeanor, and plunge in.

“I said everything I had to say in the letter. So, what are you doing here, Michel?”

He chuckles as he pulls on his earlobe self-consciously. “I think you left out some things, my dear.”

I smirk despite myself, but before I can respond, Briony jumps up from her seat beside me with a scowl. “Michel? As in your workmate and your roommate, Michelle?”

Well, thanks so much for that sis. The silence that descends leads me to believe people have stopped breathing. When I silently nod, Dad erupts.

“What do you mean, roommate? No, Tonya!” He furiously shrugs off the hand Mom places on his arm. “This is unacceptable! Are you telling me you knew about this?”

Mom drags Dad, still shouting, from the room, while Michel calmly gazes at me. I purse my lips, knowing I have to get him out of here, and preferably without passing Dad in the hallway.

I’m single-handedly ruining my sister’s wedding.

Yet, as I heave a sigh, Briony leans in, a sparkle in her eye as she whispers, “Is this a Single White Female situation, because if it is—”

“No, Bri,” I assert. Then, looking around at the captivated faces of the other guests, I declare, “I’m sorry for the interruption, everyone. Please carry on as I see him off.”

Michel’s eyes burn into me as I step around my chair, but I’m stopped by Briony’s hand on my arm. Concern reflects in her eyes as she asks, “Will you at least take Alfie with you?”

I shake my head and give her hand a squeeze. “I don’t need him. Thanks, Bri.”

Alfie steps back with a disapproving grunt, but with a pat on the hulking man’s shoulder, I continue past him. However, coming around the table, I make the mistake of glancing into Michel’s eyes, and nearly falter.

“You look extraordinary, Winnie,” he breathes, his eyes warm on me. No..he can’t start that.

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t be here, Michel,” I grimace. I’m stopped from passing him when he gently takes my hand, sending a greedy shower of tingles through me.

“My love, can we not sit down and talk?”

I snatch my hand out of the warmth of his, and try to keep from swooning. I have to focus on the bigger issue.

“Why?” I grit out. “It’s not going to change anything. I left you the apartment for the time being.”

I take a deep breath as I look about helplessly. “What more do you want from me?”

Michel’s eyes are glued to my face, and I feel it to my core when he whispers, “You.”

I close my eyes, trying to breathe. This is not the time for a panic attack, Bronwyn!

When I open my eyes, his hot gaze is still fastened on me. I self-consciously raise a hand to swipe at my curls, only to remember they’re unhappily pinned back in this chignon.

My hand drops to my side as I summon all of my willpower to do what needs to be done. “No,” I say firmly. “That’s the end of it. Have a good…life, Michel,” I finish softly.

But, instead of looking hurt, or shocked as I expected. He smiles gently as he reaches for me again. “Just let me—”

“NO!” I roar desperately.

I’m not cut out for this. Not when my heart is yearning to just run into his arms. Yet, even as I break into millions of pieces, I look up into his sweet eyes as defiantly as I can.

I’m sorry..this is the only way I can protect you, my love.

I don’t hear Nick approach in the ensuing silence until he’s standing beside us.

“Look, Michel, Bronwyn,” he begins quietly, his deep voice a bit nervous. “I understand you two have something to discuss. Perhaps we can settle you in a different room, and you can continue—”

I’m glaring up at him, because disappearing into a room alone with Michel is the last thing I should do, when Nick looks down at me. Cutting himself off, he takes a small step back and clears his throat.

“Ok, maybe not,” he concedes, pursing his lips, before turning to look at Michel..who still has his eyes glued to me.

An involuntary shiver runs through me as I roll my lips into my mouth.

“I’m sorry, Michel,” Nick continues. “You seem like a lovely man. Perhaps you two can discuss this another—”

“I’m not leaving here without her,” Michel says quietly, as he continues overturning every argument I have with his gaze alone.

My breathing is shallow, and my stomach is starting to churn again. I hope these aren’t cramps..my period is due any day now, but, I don’t need it to be today. I really like my dress.

Nick tries again. “I understand that’s how you feel, however, as her new brother in-law, I have to say I’m siding with her in this. So, if you’ll kindly—”

Michel’s eyes finally leave mine as he glances at Nick in annoyance. Just as quickly, it settles into something less fierce as he clears his throat and extends his hand to Nick.

“Thank you, brother in-law, for protecting Winnie. She said she would be safe here, and I’m glad to see that was…mostly true.”

I..can’t believe he just said that. Neither can Nick apparently, because his eyes narrow on Michel, and he doesn’t take his hand.

As Michel’s hand drops back to his side, Nick stares him down as he says to me, “Bronwyn, will you kindly return to the table? I’ll show Michel out.”

My brows rise as Nick squares up to Michel, and I take a deep breath. Nick is nearly as big as Michel, but I don’t think actor muscles and police muscles are quite the same. Meanwhile, Michel has unassumingly put his right hand in his pocket.

Oh, absolutely not! Two brothers in-law fighting on one’s wedding day? Unsubscribe immediately.

“No, Nick,” I pipe up, before this can escalate. “It’s ok. I’ll make sure he finds his way out. Thanks.”

Nick watches as I grab Michel’s forearm and tug him towards the exit. This drama has gone on long enough. I’ll just send Michel off—

The door abruptly flies open again, and in marches Dad, Mom hot on his heels. His face is no longer a deep red, but he scowls when he sees me and Michel together.

I sigh. This is not good…

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion on Wednesday!

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 35 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 37

I play the audio clip over and over, half elated over Winnie’s admission that she truly loves me, and half sick with fear that I won’t be able to find her. To tell her I don’t just love her, I’m in love with her, and I’m never letting anything happen to her or Dorie..if she’ll just trust me.

I work feverishly, reaching out to different co-workers who may have heard from her. I call and leave half a dozen messages, all telling her I love her, that I spoke to Ivette and I already knew the truth about Dorie’s paternity. That she can come home now.

Then, I go through every piece of paper in her apartment until I find information I can use. According to her high school yearbook, she’s from Brooklyn Heights. If I can find more information, then I can look up her parents address.

Unfortunately she’s lived here so long, with her meticulous record keeping, there isn’t a scrap of information left with her old address. It’s only when my eyes land on the handmade roommate guide she’d confiscated from me on the second day, that a tremor of hope trills through me.

As I pick it up, I run a hand over the floral cover. It seems like yesterday when I first saw her, and now my life is so bound up in hers, it feels like I’m drowning without her.

When I thumb through the book, a set of pictures fall out that leaves me breathless. They’re pictures of me as I grew up, and turning them over, I see where she’s written my age on the back.

Mama doesn’t easily separate from her photos, but she must have given these to Winnie. The thought of that precious moment sends tears to my eyes, so I absentmindedly thumb through the book, looking for something that could lead me to her. That’s when I find it.

In case of emergency, contact Joe Sullivan at 718..his number is listed. Without a second of hesitation, I pick up the phone and dial. It immediately goes to voicemail.

I try again, and leave a message. It’s late, nearly midnight, but it’s something. I do a reverse phone number lookup, and get nothing.

Still, I fall asleep in better spirits than the previous nights. It’s a breadcrumb, but it’s more than I had. If it weren’t illegal I would have called in every favor to track her, but we never added that feature on our phones, and I can’t go to prison so..I’ll just call again in the morning.

Yet, the next morning dawns with the same results. I call from the office throughout the day, between catching up on work and stalking Sam—who, despite the heels and short stature, is not an easy person to keep up with.

At first she refuses to tell me anything, but since she left Ben in Genève two days earlier, she’s bored. And, after letting me camp out on her sofa with my laptop, because I’m ‘pretty,’ she finally looks up from her desk around 2:30pm.

“I need licorice whips,” she forcefully declares, her long, dark bob swishing about her face.

I look at her like she’s crazy. “You need what?”

She rolls her sharply winged eyes and sits back in her chair. “Licorice whips..they’re these red rope-like—”

“I know what they are,” I interrupt. “I’ve seen them in Winnie’s desk.”

Sam’s eyes widen as she practically salivates. “Get them.”

I raise a brow. “Are you suggesting that I break into her office?”

Shrugging she turns back to her computer. “How you acquire them is up to you, Super Spy.”

“Again, not a spy. Also, why should I? Will you give me something I can use to find Winnie?”

She cuts her eyes at me. “Right to the point, there, aren’t you, Super Spy?”

I roll my lips into my mouth as I scowl. “Perhaps you don’t understand what I’m dealing with here. My wife is missing, yet I can only report it tomorrow morning. Even then, they will tell me what I already know. She’s a grown woman who doesn’t want to be found. Now,” I say, rising to cross to her desk.

“If you have any information whatsoever that will lead to me getting my wife back, who is only gone due to a misunderstanding that I have since cleared up, then you will give it to me.”

The woman doesn’t flinch. In fact, she leans forward with a smirk. “And, if I decline?”

My knuckles grind into the desk as I lean into it and quietly state. “If you thought your life was miserable now, I will call the one person on Earth that I know will make your life unbearable. And, because it’s a matter of finding my wife, whose side do you think Ben will take..yours or mine?”

I figure there’s actually a 50% chance that he’ll be willing to cross Sam, but I’m counting on her not knowing that.

She gives me a hard stare before spinning her chair towards her desktop. “Well, fine. You didn’t have to go all, ‘I’ll burn the world’ on me. She said to tell you she’s safe, so you can cool it.”

As I process that new piece of intel, Sam spins back towards, a gleam in her eyes. “I can give you something, but if I’m betraying a confidence, you’ll have to give me something, too.”

I stare at her, trying to figure her out. “What do you want?”

She smirks. “Give up Ben. What’s his weakness?”

I think..my wife’s best friend is a lunatic. “Why do you care?”

Cackling in a way that sends a shiver down my spine, she steeples her fingers together like an evil villain. “I need to bring him to his knees.”

Shaking my head, I straighten, crossing my arms. “You’re talking about hurting him.”

Her dark red lips peel back into a wicked smile. “Oh yes.”

“This is my friend you’re talking about. He’s a good man.”

She scoffs. “Yet, archenemies exist for a reason. Come on, Super Spy, you’re burning daylight. Do you want your wife or not?”

I narrow my eyes on her. She’s not mentally unhinged, instead it seems like she’s angry about something. Still, I’m not sure if she merely wants to hurt him in return or if she wants to destroy him.

“Is he really your enemy? Do you plan to hurt him beyond all repair? Are we talking corporate sabotage here?”

Frowning, her wide hazel eyes flutter behind her polka dot cat frame glasses. “No! He’s just..we’re just..he’s frustrating, ok?”

I look at her a little longer as she slumps back in her seat and folds her arms in an almost adorable pout. Ah, I see.

With that I nod. “Ok, I’m trusting you then. Don’t break my trust, Sam. It’s not easy to come back from.”

“Ok, Mr. Darcy,” she sighs sarcastically. “Now, give it up!”

I smirk, thinking back to my friend. Leave it to Ben to find someone whose idea of flirting is cutting him off at the knees.

“Ok, Sam. If you want to attack him at his weakest point, then you have to be yourself.”

She slowly blinks at me. “What kind of new age snake oil are you selling here, Super Spy? Give me something or you get nothing.”

I smile in return, not sure what she’s talking about, but it sounds funny. “I’m not selling anything. Do you remember the time you were sick, but you showed up for the flight to Helsinki anyway?”

Sam looks at me dubiously, but slowly nods. “You mean the time I got the flu, and I was so sick I couldn’t bother to do anything but throw on some sweatpants and drag myself to the airport? Yeah, so? What about it?”

“That’s it,” I shrug. I can’t tell her how Ben came back from that trip raving about her softness. That’s not a betrayal I could come back from.

“You’re kidding,” she scoffs, her eye roll at a level 100.

“Apparently, you at your most natural is tonic for him,” I smirk.

She scowls at me. “That’s the best you’ve got? Show up barefaced and mewling like a kitten?”

If she only knew. I chuckle despite myself. “It’s a building block..look, you’ll just have to trust me, ok? Now tell me where Winnie is.”

Sam sits back with a sigh. “I can’t, but! I’ll tell you her parents names are Tonya and Joseph and they live in Brooklyn Heights.”

I sigh, dejectedly sinking into the chair opposite her. “That’s all you’ve got?”

She smirks. “It’s a building block ok? Now get to it man!”

Huffing what a waste a time that was, I return to the sofa where a thought strikes like a thunderbolt. Clutching my laptop in my hands, I shoot straight up, a wave of excitement overtaking me.

“Sam, you’re a genius! Thanks! You might have free licorice whips for life for this!”

I run out of her office as she yells, “I only like Strawberry!”

By the time I reach the lobby, I’ve found what I’m looking for online, and it’s only 12 blocks from here. Hailing a taxi, I give the address to a flower shop near my destination.

Winnie doesn’t speak much about her parents. I don’t think it’s a lack of love, but perhaps a lack of understanding that keeps them apart. They seem close in some respects, but I also can’t help notice that besides one picture that sits on her vanity, there are no other pictures of her family in her apartment.

Still, I remember the pride she had, speaking of her mother starting her own accounting firm with a group of friends. So, when my taxi pulls up at the flower shop a block away from Taylor, Sullivan and Dynes, I stop in to collect my bouquet, and prepare to meet my mother in-law.

It’s a first for me since Ivette’s mom was out of the picture, and her father didn’t have much involvement if it didn’t mean he could sign a check. This should be interesting.

Taking the glass elevator to the 11th floor, I locate the office in the corner and enter through a heavy wood door. It’s not a large space by any means.

Decorated in dark woods and grey upholstery, it has a finished, if not luxurious feel, with several plants around the waiting area. One of the three pictures scattered on the wall amongst several plaques, reveals a woman with my wife’s dark brown eyes and serene smile.

“Can I help you, sir?” The receptionist is staring at me from across her desk.

“Oh, hi!” I paste a smile on my face, as I cross the room. “I have a delivery for Mrs. Sullivan. I was told to have it here by this time, and to make sure she receives it.”

The girl flips her long dark ponytail over her shoulder, smiling as she reaches for the basket. “Oh, I’ll take it for her.”

“Oh, I wish that I could just leave it,” I reply apologetically, drawing the basket away from her. “Unless you’re good at singing? Then I could tell you the message and you can sing it to her.”

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s a singing delivery? You sing?”

I smile coyly. “Well, I didn’t say I was any good at it, but it pays the bills. If she isn’t here, I’ll just wait until she gets back…”

“You’ll be waiting a long time..she left with her family on vacation yesterday.”

My brows rise as my stomach sinks, but I keep the smile firmly in place. “Oh, no! Well, she can call this number to have the message forwarded to her address, if we have affiliates in her area.”

I hand her the receipt with my phone number written across the top, and I’m rewarded when she frowns down at the paper. “Unless you’re affiliated in England, I don’t think she’s going to get it. But, thanks for the flowers!”

Smiling, I ask her to print her name and sign the bottom half of the receipt. When she writes her phone number beneath her name, the smile falls off my face as I thank her and leave. That’s going to be awkward later.

As soon as I’m in the elevator I’m pulling out my phone. England, England…why England?

Like a thunderbolt, the realization strikes. I know where Winnie is…or where she will be. Briony’s wedding!

Bronwyn wasn’t supposed to leave until Sunday..and now knowing that the rest of her family was leaving earlier, I realize she was likely trying to spend as much time at home with me and Dorie as possible.

My heart clutches. Oh, Winnie.

Hailing a taxi, I’m already messaging HR that I’m taking off a week beginning next Thursday. If only I had trusted Winnie enough to accept the invitation to the wedding in the first place.

Instead, I was afraid that her family would burden her with their thoughts and opinions, and weaken her desire to remain married. I thought I had more time to make sure we were on solid ground before facing the storm.

Now, the storm is here, and we’re facing it alone. So help me, we are never doing this again, Winnie.

Pulling out the bottom half of the receipt the receptionist signed, I do a search for her name and work location. Immediately her face pops up on a social media platform. Carlotta Byrnes @byrnesmeup8.

Her account is locked, but I’m able to see who follows her. I patiently scroll through the list until I find what I’m looking for. @TonyaSully0565

Like most social media users her age, my mother in-law’s account is unlocked, and I’m able to see all of her pictures.

“Well..hello my love,” I whisper as a recent picture of Winnie fills the screen. According to the location, it was taken in London last night.

They’re at a sit down restaurant, and my wife looks beautiful…and absolutely miserable. Her long curls are held back with a head band, and she’s bundled up in an old blue shirt and her fluffy yellow scarf.

She’s staring down the camera as she holds a Chinese soup spoon to her mouth, and the caption reads: “Wyn ordered off the secret menu! That’s my baby! #mandarin #languageskills #quietlybrilliant #timetogoshopping

I scroll through several other pictures from the flight over, but this is the most recent one with Winnie. It also doesn’t appear that any other members of her family use the app. So after getting home and making dinner for Dorie, I put on a dolphin movie for her, and tackle my list of things to do.

The wedding is next Saturday, so if I’m going to make Dorie’s Parent Teacher Conference on Thursday, I’ll have to find tickets for Thursday evening. After searching through a list of cities that end in -well, I finally land on the name of the town. Bakewell.

A search of wedding venues reveals there are..too many.. Tomorrow, I’ll call around..but for now..I send a message to Clara to see if she’s available to travel to England, all expenses paid.

Then, after getting Doriane to bed, I spend the rest of the evening scrolling through pictures on my mother-in law’s social media page looking for any photos I can get. There are so many from family dinners, and it’s interesting to see the twins next to their father.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but the red hair and light brown eyes are unexpected. He carries himself like a military man—very upright, no smile. Yet, there’s a warmth and pride in his eyes in the pictures with his wife and daughters. I look forward to meeting him, if I’m able to sort everything out.

The next day, after feeding Dorie and promising to take her to the park later, I begin running through the list of possible wedding venues. None of them are forthcoming, and I would have given up except I happened to check Mom’s social media, and what did she happen to post over night?

A picture of a venue in Bakewell with the caption: One more week!

Splendid! So, after matching the picture with the venue, I finally know where the wedding is to be held on Saturday, but at what time? How do I find Winnie on the day, when there will no doubt be security? What if she doesn’t come home after?

Clara messages just as I’m starting to wonder if this will turn out for the best. She isn’t able to travel, but she recommends an older woman whom she introduces as her aunt, Mrs. Pierce. She happens to live down the street, and she’s willing to travel to England on short notice.

After squaring that away, I book the tickets and our hotel rooms, hire a car, and pray that everything goes well.

By the time I leave from the parent teacher conference and get home to collect Mrs. Pierce and the luggage, I’m barely holding it together. The week was rough, with a full fledged melt down from Dorie because her Mama hasn’t called her. It was quickly followed by my own meltdown, because her Mama hasn’t called me either.

If it weren’t for Mom’s regular posts, I’m sure I would have gone out of my mind with worry. As it is, I’m plenty worried, especially when the pictures of the last couple of days reveal a more tired looking Bronwyn. I hope she’s remembering to eat.

After catching the red eye to Manchester, we drive the hour to Bakewell the next day to get a look at the wedding venue, which resembles a small palace. Only then do I allow myself to hope. Just one more day until I’ll see Winnie again, if all goes well.

I’ve barely slept in two weeks, desperate to get to Winnie. Yet, after driving 25 minutes to our hotel, since there were no lodgings for nearly 20 km around the area, adrenaline won’t let me sleep. So, after leaving Dorie in Mrs. Pierce’s room, I travel to some of the nicer hotels closer to the venue to see if I can glimpse the wedding party.

I would check Mom’s social media, but since she removed the post with the picture of the venue, she hasn’t posted anything related to where they’re staying. Just a plate of food, or a picture of the family. She’s also careful to keep Nicholas out of the pictures she posts.

After hours visiting hotels, when I’m unable to discover anything new, I purchase food for Dorie and Mrs. Pierce, and have our clothes sent out for pressing. At that point, I collapse in exhaustion and spend the next several hours in and out of sleep.

Around 4am I finally get up to go for a run before showering and going to stake out the venue. Around 7am, deliveries begin coming in from the florist, catering trucks, party rentals, all while a gentleman with spiky greying hair oversees the deliveries. And, when security guards begin showing up at 8am I rest easy for the first time in a week, finally assured I’m in the right place.

I send Winnie a message. ‘Good morning my love. Please stay hydrated, and don’t forget to eat.’ I feel like a stalker, but when it shows the message as Read, I feel a lot better.

Heading back to my hotel, I collect our clothes, and get changed. Putting Dorie in one of the pretty outfits her Mama bought before she left, the three of us are then able to gain access to the grounds, with the invitation I copied from another large wedding taking place here today.

After parking, we gain access to a large hall, decorated in so much red, it’s impossible to see the actual decor of the room. Leaving Mrs. Pierce and Dorie seated with a vague reference to the groom’s family, I step out to find the toilet.

That’s when I’m able to find another cordoned off area. A simple sign states the area is closed for a private event from 3-8pm, which must be Briony’s. It’s 2pm now, so..I guess we’re crashing an Indian wedding now. It’s a good thing I brought an extra card.

Nodding to a guard that walks by, I return to the wedding hall after strolling around to get a better idea of the layout and how the guards are rotating through the property.

If Briony and Nicholas are set to start the ceremony at 3pm, I should wait until at least four before crashing in.

I don’t think it will earn me any points if I ruin Winnie’s sister’s wedding. If I’m going to recover my wife, I only have one shot at this..and there’s no room for failure.

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 35 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 37

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 34 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 36

I scrub a hand over my face, pick up the letter I found on the bed after I returned from my workout, and try to make sense of it again. Yet, it makes less sense than the first two times I read it.

Dear John Michel,

Sorry, that’s less funny this time around, but this is my 7th draft, and I can’t bring myself to write this again. I’ve tried so hard to figure out what to say, but I find I’m still at a loss.

Until this moment, I always thought the heroines in dramas and books were stupid to leave without explaining why to the hero. Yet, here I am, doing that very thing because I can’t bear to hurt you or Dorie.

I love you both so much, and I’m afraid, you’ll never know how much, or believe it. Yet, it’s as true as the sun rising today and setting tonight.

If you don’t know how completely you and Dorie are wrapped in my world, then walk out of the room and look around. What part of my life, what part of me haven’t you touched, my love?

All I have to do is close my eyes to feel your essence burned into my soul. I couldn’t shake you out if I wanted to, and I have no desire to do so.

Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll believe that. You see, after being given an ultimatum, to break you and Dorie, or myself, the choice was clear to me.

Of course, I’d rather die a thousand times than hurt you and Dorie. This is the only way you’ll heal again. The other option would destroy you, and I refuse to be the reason why your life is destroyed.

No, if I got one thing out of that conversation with Ivette, I learned that while you may love me, you’re not ‘in’ love with me. So, letting me go may hurt, but you’ll heal from that kind of hurt.

I’m shattered to pieces, Michou, but every piece still has your and Dorie’s name written on it. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to say that sooner. I’m sorry that you likely won’t believe me now.

Please, I beg you dear heart, don’t give up on us. When the trial is over, if you’ll still have me, I’m all yours. But please trust me when I say, it must be this way for the time being.

Don’t try to reach out to me. My heart can’t take it. I’m sick over this, but I take comfort in knowing there’s hope for you and Dorie.

Thank you for allowing me to have a family, however briefly. Thank you for allowing me to be your family, and to have the dream of a life with you and Dorie. If you decide when everything is all over that I’m not worth the trouble of keeping around, I’ll more than understand.

I’ll keep in touch. Even if you can’t forgive me and don’t want to speak to me, I don’t want Dorie to think I love her any less.

I love you, Michel. I love you, Michou.

I’m in love with you, and I wish I had the courage to say that before this moment. I wish I had believed it could make a difference the way I need to believe it now.

Please don’t hate me, but if you must, please don’t let Dorie hate me. I’ll continue paying my half of the rent. Please stay through the end of August. Whatever you decide, I’ll understand.

Yours for as long as you want me,

Winnie

Dear Dorie,

My beautiful daughter. Mama has to go on a trip, but I’ll call you and we’ll sing songs ok, my heart? I’ll miss you the whole time, and Papa will let you call me when you miss me. I love you until rainbows don’t exist. I love you like the ocean loves the sand. I love you forever, Dorie.

Kisses and hugs,

Gift Mama

There’s no response when I call her phone. Eventually it stops ringing and sends me straight to voicemail.

This doesn’t make sense. But, I don’t have the luxury of tearing this city apart until I find her. Not yet.

So, I make my daughter’s breakfast. I smile at her as she gets ready for school. I give her kisses, and then I walk her in the rain as she twirls her polka dot umbrella and talks about the worms coming up through the cracks of the sidewalk.

And, after waving goodbye, I run the six blocks to Ivette’s townhouse, because her phone doesn’t ring at all. The message says the number is disconnected.

The housekeeper can’t open the door fast enough to figure out who’s beating down the door. I nearly collapse from the news.

“Oh,” the little red haired Polish woman says as she looks up at me with disgust. “Ivette doesn’t live here anymore..hmm. From what I understand she was put out. Yes, she barely got back from Moorea on her own from what I understand…here you should take her things. They can’t stay here. Mr. Stevens has made it clear he wants nothing to do with her anymore.”

I watch, horrified as she begins dumping black garbage bags out of the door. And…I leave them right there.

I slowly walk home in the rain as I call Winnie’s office. Twice it goes straight to voicemail. I try the office messenger…her out of office message is on.

Sam hasn’t heard from her, and a few minutes later my jaw drops in shock when she calls back to say Winnie is on vacation— indefinitely.

The woman has simply..vanished.

After I message HR that I’m taking a personal day, I don’t know how long I sit on the side of our bed staring at Winnie’s letter.

I can’t make it make sense. She finally said she loves me. She said she’s in love with me, but she left, just like that? She took the time to write me a letter…to say she’s leaving me. She took the time to tell me why, in albeit, unclear terms, but she still left.

A tear falls. Dorie’s Gift Mama. Another tear. My gift..the love of my life..how did she not know? Did I not tell her enough? Did I not hold her enough, or tell her that I want her enough?

Nothing I do stops the flood of tears that drown me past all sense. I sit in the middle of the bed, wailing like a full grown baby. I slap myself, trying to break out of it, but it does nothing to staunch the pain that flows out of me.

I stand in a cold shower, forgetting to take off my clothes first. I just… don’t understand.

How could she leave us? After everything she said, and everything she did? She says she’s still mine, but how can she be when she’s gone? How can she believe that I’m not in love with her, when I have never known another woman the way I know her? When she’s the other half of my heart?

How do you live with only half your heart?

She made me believe that love can happen again. That I can choose love, and forget the past! How could she lie to me this way?

My whole body aches with the pain. “I’m done with women who don’t want me. If this is what Bronwyn wants so be it.”

The words spill out, but they’re empty since my heart is already broken in all the pieces that Winnie said it wouldn’t break. And, all I can do is curl into a ball and cry…and I pray.

I pray to God that she’s ok, that she can come back to us. That she comes back to me.

The sheets are cold when I extend my hand towards Winnie in the gloom of the early morning light. Did she wake up already?

I groggily lift my head and look around…then it hits me. Yesterday..the letter..Winnie’s gone.

My body aches as I sit up, but I bow my head. Oh, God! What do I do? She was just here..

Dorie easily believed her Mama is on a trip and she’s coming back. Will I have to tell her that another Mama left her? Left us?

I want to hate Winnie. I really do. For not talking it out. For not giving us a chance. But I know her heart..if she did this, she felt she had no choice. I just have to find her..but how?

I go through my morning routine, but I’m dragging, alternating between anger and overwhelming despair. Part of me refuses to believe this is real, and I must be stuck in some terrible nightmare. And another part of me, feels like I only need to fight through this, and it will be over.

Several phone calls go to voicemail, and this time I leave a long message. Unlike the others where I tell her to call me back, this time I tell her about our day yesterday.

How awful it was without her, how I missed her when I went to bed and when I woke up. I tell her that I love her, and that we can figure it out together. Whatever it is, if she’ll just reach out to me, I’ll come to her.

The voicemail times out before I finish, but I send it anyway. She doesn’t call back. Yet, I paste on a smile for Dorie, who looks slightly more suspicious of me today than yesterday. But, she easily believes it when I tell her that I miss Mama, and we won’t be able to talk to her until she arrives at her destination.

After dropping Dorie off at school, I take another day off from work. At this point, I’m grasping at straws, but I do a search for anything on Briony Sullivan or Nicholas Bancroft anyway. It wasn’t a surprise that it came up empty.

What was a surprise, was the lack of information on Bronwyn. My guess is that the Bancroft camp scrubbed everything about her and her family to ensure nothing could be traced back to them.

Feeling like I need to do something, since sitting around is solving nothing, I went to the gun range downtown. I’ve only been a handful of times since moving here, but the familiarity of the practice gave me a sense of order that’s been missing since Winnie left.

Stopping at the market on the way home, I change my mind half way through shopping, and stop at the pizza restaurant instead. If tonight is anything like last night, I’m not going to feel like eating anyway.

But, it’s as I’m approaching my apartment building that my suspicions are confirmed. I will indeed not be hungry tonight.

As she sees me approaching, Ivette peels away from the wall with a huge smile on her face. It does nothing for the sallow skin, bags under her eyes or the leopard print skirt hanging from her frame.

“Where have you been?” She draws her hair over her shoulder with a huff. “I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

I raise a brow. “What do you want, Ivette?”

She shifts from one pink boot to another. “Let me come inside first.”

“I don’t keep female company, and Doriane isn’t home. So, say what you need to say.”

She smiles slyly, her eyes bright enough to make me think she’s high on something. “Oh, does your precious wife tell you what to do?”

“She sure does, and I love it. Anything else?” I smile, but it’s all teeth.

“Oh,” she smugly eyes me. “Someone’s in a bad mood..things not so great at home?”

My eyes narrow. “Since when is what happens in my home any of your business?”

Her green eyes shoot darts. “Since the moment you brought that woman in to live with my daughter!”

“Lower your voice, and her name is Bronwyn,” I say coldly.

“Ok..Bronwyn. If she’s going to be around or…not around, it affects what happens in the courts you know.”

Time stops as I look at the smug look on her face. “What did you do, Ivette?” I grit out.

Sensing blood in the water, she smiles, pulling her fur coat tighter around her. “Hm..it looks like, something happened.”

Carefully scrubbing my face of emotion, I walk around her and wave to Saul. “Is it ok if I briefly leave my things at the desk?”

I’ve no doubt the rumor mill has been running rampant amongst the doormen, but, when I spoke to Frank yesterday, he could only tell me there was a verbal disagreement involving my wife. He couldn’t understand a word of it, which is likely why Saul glances at me, then curiously eyes Ivette over my shoulder.

Scanning the pizza box, he shrugs. “You can leave it here, but I make no guarantees it’ll still be here later, Mr. Renard.”

“Thanks Saul,” I nod, as he opens the door. Depositing my things on the desk, I turn to see Ivette close on my heels.

Her eyes widen on mine. “Don’t you want me to come upstairs?”

I step back. “No. I want you to leave.”

Her chin drops as she considers me disbelievingly. “Why should I? My daughter lives here after all.”

Shaking my head, I cross my arms. “You no longer have custody, shared or otherwise, and I don’t believe your visit today has anything to do with her. How long have you been back, Ivette?”

Her eyes dart off to the side as she offers a brittle laugh. “What does that matter? I’m here now.”

Smirking, I look her up and down. “I hope you collected all the things Jeff sat outside the townhouse yesterday. Where are you staying?”

She blanches, her hand flying to her throat. “I’m staying with a friend, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine, as soon as I get things..organized.”

My lips press together in a thin line as I listen to her. “Get yourself some help, Ivette. You’re in no position to be worried about anyone but yourself. Dorie is fine, and she doesn’t need to see you like this. Get cleaned up, and maybe we can talk.”

I’m reaching for my bag, when her hand lands on my bicep. She gives a little squeeze. “Why don’t you let me stay, Michel? Just until-”

Jerking my arm out of her grasp, I walk away from the desk, exit the building, and start walking towards the park. When I hear the heels of her boots tapping down the sidewalk behind me, I exhale in relief. Dorie will be home soon, and I need answers.

When I cross the street, I enter the park and stop just inside the entrance. It’s a fairly mild day considering the beginning of March is just three days away.

Elderly men play chess on a nearby bench, while young kids throw what I hope is pigeon feed at the cooing birds. The moms are out, huddled around their strollers as they sip from takeaway cups, eyeing the midday joggers.

Perfect. An audience means witnesses.

“Just wait a minute, Michel!” Ivette calls, stumbling into the park behind me. I can practically feel the eyes slapping us from behind.

“I already told you. You need to get yourself cleaned up, then we can talk about getting you visitation rights.”

She slaps a hand to her chest, her chipped blue nails looking dull in the sunlight. “I’m her mother. You’re the one that needs visitation rights!”

I quirk a brow as I fold my arms and turn away, giving the eagle eyed onlookers a clearer view of us. Even if it’s in French, they can’t pass up a show.

“I’m the one with custody, Ivette. I don’t need visitation rights. I’ve said what I’ve needed to say. So, you can go home now.”

Splotchy red marks cover her face as she flushes, her eyes wild as she shrieks. “Why? So you can get back to little Miss Perfect?”

My eyes narrow on hers. “Back to my wife? Yes. I don’t know how many ways I can spell it out for you, but it’s over between you and me.”

Her eyes fill with tears, as desperation coats her words. “You think that woman loves you? She could never love you. She doesn’t care what happens to you or Doriane!”

“Enough,” I say, looking towards the building across the street. “There’s nothing you can say to make me believe that.”

I shift as if to leave when she throws her hands out. “Wait!”

She shuffles through the pockets of her coat before triumphantly pulling out her phone. “I can prove it.”

I slowly turn back towards her, eyes carefully devoid of emotion. “I don’t care what you think you can prove, Ivette.”

She smirks as she unlocks her phone, pressing play somewhere near the middle of an audio recording.

Bronwyn’s voice rings out, in perfectly crisp French, and I have to fight to keep my knees from buckling. “The fact of the matter is that Michel is my husband now. And, if I want to let him dry up or have my way with him on every surface of our apartment, that’s none of your ever longing business!”

My heart aches as Ivette pauses the clip, but I wrinkle my brow and look at her. “That proves nothing.”

“It proves that you mean far less to her than she means to you.”

If she thinks that’s what Winnie meant, the woman must be high out of her mind. The bags of clothing that Winnie brought home are still sitting in our bedroom closet. I put them away last night, needing something to do, and I cried the whole time.

There were more things in those bags for me and Dorie than there were for herself. She didn’t spend a penny of my money, but she shopped for us. Until she arrived home yesterday, she was thinking of us.

Whatever Ivette thinks, I’m now certain this conversation was the catalyst that drove my wife away. I need to hear the rest of that recording.

I look off, a look of indecision playing on my face. “It’s not like she’s wrong. She would never do anything to hurt me.”

Ivette scoffs. “You don’t think so? Listen to this!”

The whole park is listening as Ivette’s voice crashes through the trees. “How long do you think he’ll stay with you then? When he’ll just be a shell of himself?”

Then, Bronwyn’s controlled burn. “I can’t control what you do Ivette. My only mistake was underestimating the depths of spite you’re willing to descend to. So, congratulations..I’m in awe of your capabilities.”

I raise a brow. “I’m sure you think that’s saying something, Ivette, but it proves nothing.”

“That’s what you think! Bronwyn is perfectly willing to see you unhappy. She’s still at home, isn’t she? Because she doesn’t care about you or Dorie! Wait until you hear the rest in court!” She crows, waving her phone in my face.

With no effort, I snatch the phone from her and jog off. She tries to chase after me but falls to the ground.

“I’m not stealing your phone, Ivette. But, I’m not sure my wife knows that there’s a recording of her. I’m going to forward it for her protection and yours.”

Within a few clicks, I’ve sent the audio to myself and deleted it from her messages, phone and cloud storage. Crossing back to where she’s finally stood up, I return her phone while glancing at the time.

I’m sure Dorie is already home, but I cross my arms as I look at Ivette. “This is over, Ivette.”

She numbly nods, her lower lip trembling, but as I turn away, she starts shrieking in English. “Help! He assaulted me! Help!”

Everyone turns back around to their respective activities, as I shake my head. “Get a grip, Ivette.”

Her face contorts in rage as she shrieks. “You think that woman cares about you? She can never care about you the way I have!”

Rolling my eyes, I wait at the light for it to change as she stalks up beside me. I take a large step to the side as she goes on.

“If she cared about you, she would have left, but instead, she’ll have to watch as I take Doriane away from you!”

I turn to look her in the eye. “You will never take my daughter from me, Ivette.”

Her eyes glow in disgust as her voice drips with vitriol. “She would have to be your daughter for that to be true! Do you think the court will care about your claims when I show them the paternity results?”

The light changes, but I slowly turn to face my ex-wife, speaking deliberately. “Dorie is my child.”

She scoffs with a sneer, reveling in her triumph. “You fool. I told that woman it would break you. All she had to do was leave! Well, tough. Dorie is mine, and the judge will see it that way, too.”

I press my lips together as I shake my head in disgust. How can a person can be so delusional? “Ivette..did you think I didn’t know?”

Ivette freezes, her eyes widening in shock. “You..there’s no way you could have known..”

I shrug. “Not at first, no. But, the timing was strange. You had just rejected my second proposal weeks before when suddenly you’re hinting that you’re ready to commit, practically begging me to propose.

And, when I did, you made sure we were married within the month. Then, we’re suddenly pregnant a month later, and you didn’t want me at the doctor’s visits or there for the birth.

Even when you went into labor two months before Dorie was due…I still wanted to believe it was true..that the baby would be our beginning. But, that day in the hospital, it only took one look at her to know…”

Her lip quivers as she takes a breath. “You said you loved me.”

“I believed it, too,” I shrug. “But in actuality, I loved what we could be. I wanted a life with you, Ivette, but I didn’t love you. I didn’t know the difference until Bronwyn. To actually know a person and have them know you, and still want each other, no matter what life with them will look like..that’s not something you and I ever came close to.

But, Doriane? I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Despite what it meant, I chose to be her father that day, and every day since. Which is far more than you can say. The judge will see that, too.”

Her eyes darken in rage as she screeches, “You think I care what other people think?”

I lift a shoulder in response. “Maybe not, but for a change, think about what your daughter will think of you, and how it will affect her.”

“You’ll never get what you want,” she snarls. “I’ll make sure of that!”

I chuckle, but it belies the anger simmering in my belly. She dared to chase off my loving wife with threats? Lowering my voice so that passersby can’t hear, I enunciate every word.

“I don’t know what you think you know about me, Ivette. But, you and I were never meant for each other. Bronwyn is the love of my life, and if you do anything to harm her or our family, being stranded on an island in French Polynesia will no longer be the worst thing that has ever happened to you. Do we understand each other?”

Her mouth slams shut as she looks at me and nods.

With that, I take off across the street, back to my apartment. It’s time to find my wife.

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 34 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 36

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 33 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 35

Donning a pair of charcoal wool pants, my black, asymmetric cut military style peplum jacket, and my stacked heel suede ankle boots, I feel like I can take on a whole gang of pirates.

Michel took one look at me and declared I look like I’m going to war, so I think I nailed the look I wanted.

It’s with that confidence that I march into my office and demand a meeting with Brad. After going to his office, he smugly tells me that someone from the LA office is coming in because that was the direction the company wanted to go. “They felt they needed someone with more D level experience.

I raise a brow. “Yet, Ms. Chimes was only promoted to director two years ago. I’ve been a director for six years now. You know I work hard, and I’ve brought my A game for the last ten years.”

Brad takes a deep breath as I continue. I know he’s out the door by the end of the week, but I need to be heard.

“Look, Brad. I started interning here in my sophomore year of college, and took an entry level analyst job at my graduation. I’ve worked myself to the bone, not taking vacations, working during lunch, taking work home, and all you can say is ‘the company wants to go in a different direction?’”

He raises a brow. “Now, hold on a minute, Bronwyn. It sounds like you’ve have had plenty of opportunity. Maybe it’s someone else’s turn, did you ever think of that?”

His words send me reeling. There it is. It doesn’t matter what I put in, or how hard I work, there will always be the Brads that will take what I give with a thank you very much, and turn their back when it doesn’t mean something for them.

All the ways I had planned to fight for the position instantly die on my tongue. I no longer have the appetite for it, and I chuckle in disbelief with the realization that I’m free.

Brad sighs as he sits back and considers me. “Don’t be that way, Bronwyn. You and I both know that you’re invaluable where you are. Unless you want to follow me over to Rexson Dawes? If that’s the case, I’ll see what I can do. You know I can always use you as my right hand man.”

I slowly blink at him as all the things Michel had been trying to tell me, about boundaries and not pouring into people and corporations that don’t care about me, line up and form the most brilliant picture. I get it now.

Standing up from my chair in front of Brad’s desk, I brush a piece of lint from my pants. “Well, this has been..enlightening.”

“There’s our girl,” Brad rears back, clapping victoriously, his hair glistening in the sunlight streaming through the window.

I smile and nod, remembering quite vividly how he was promoted to VP after being promoted to Director of Finance two years after I held the title..that’s right..we shared a title for a year before he was promoted to VP of Finance. It’s neither here nor there now, but it does paint a clear picture of the freedoms that I had allowed others, that weren’t reciprocated to me.

I take a look around the office as he goes on about KPI and reviews. He concludes with, “Maybe I’ll be able to put in a good word to get you a nice little 4% merit increase this year. We’ll see how it goes.”

After only receiving 2 or 3% raises for the last four years, because the economy is in a slump? I smile then, and even I can feel it’s all teeth. Brad doesn’t seem to notice as he goes on.

“Now, I know Friday is my last day, but it’s only Tuesday. So, I’m really hoping that we can finish up the last three projects by then. Kind of give the new Veep a clean desk to start next Monday. I know I can count on you.”

Michel is right. Loyalty belongs to people, to family. Not to a corporation that doesn’t care if a person lives or dies. Message received.

Which is why, after I send off my vacation request to HR for the rest of today through the end of my trip next week, and receive the approval, I put my Out of Office notification up for messenger, and lock my office. Rounding several corners, I come upon the only face I care to see at the moment.

With a knock on the wall of his cubicle, I wait until he looks up before smiling at him broadly. “Hey..guess who’s out to lunch with reservations at your favorite French restaurant?”

Michel’s smile is breathtaking as he taps at a few keys and stands up. “Let me just get my coat, my love.”

After a lovely lunch, I bid my husband farewell with a promise to see him at home, and, I went shopping. I spent more money on pajamas and clothes for this trip than I ever have, then I went crazy buying spring dresses for Dorie and a few nice shirts for Michel.

Will I only be making the minimum payment on my student loan next month? Yes. But, after paying quadruple the minimum for the last few years, I think I can afford it.

In the middle of all that soul freeing shopping, I decided two things. One, I’m going to figure out what I want to do. I’ll talk to Michel, and if he wants to move back to France in August, I’ll go with them. In that case, I’ll look for work in Annecy or Geneva.

Maybe I’ll even look into offering music lessons. It would mean buying a piano and renting a studio, but why not? With the money I can make renting out my apartment, it will cover the HOA and more.

The second thing I decide, is to again ask if he’s willing to come with me to England. Maybe if I stress how important it is to me, even if it isn’t for the whole week..maybe then he’ll be willing to come. Or…maybe he won’t.

I sigh so loudly, the taxi driver looks at me in the rear view mirror. I’ve been going back and forth like this since yesterday.

I know Michel declined, but I also wasn’t very clear about what it means to me. I leave on Sunday, so that gives me four days to get my courage up to ask if he’ll fly in for the ceremony the following Saturday.

I know what I’ll do. Dorie should already be home with Clara. I’ll make a nice soup, and get Dorie to help me make a batch of brownies. Then, I’ll ask him. It’s not my best plan, but it’s better than nothing.

As I step out of the taxi in front of the building, Frank comes forward to take some of my bags. “Thanks so much, Frank. You’re here early today.”

“Yeah, my youngest has a show tonight, so I swapped for an earlier shift.”

“Oh,” I smile, shuffling to the door. “Tell, Clarice to break a leg.”

“I wi—”

“Bronwyn, right?”

A tall, thin woman who looks slightly familiar, pushes off the side of the wall and interrupts the conversation with a hand on my sleeve.

Frank moves to get between us, but I shake my head, smiling gratefully when he takes the bags inside, and returns to stand at the door.

The woman is looking around, as if expecting a surprise attack at any moment, when my eyes widen in sudden recognition. Ivette has lost weight, and her blond hair is thrown up in a messy bun, her long fur coat seeming to swallow her.

She looks a bit more world weary than the last time I saw her, but I speak cordially. “Ivette, you’re back. Do you want to step inside the lobby? I’ll let Michel know—”

“No, I don’t have much to say,” she snips, her nasal voice sharp.

An alarm goes off somewhere in my mind, and I’m shaking my head before I can figure out why. “Well, you should wait for Michel to get here. I’m not good at delivering messages.”

I move to get past her when she steps in front of me. “I came to talk to you.”

“Well, I have nothing to say to you. Your business is with Michel, so you’ll have to wait for him.”

Her face twists into something ugly.

“You’re delusional if you think your marriage is going to mean anything to him,” she hurls the words like a denunciation. “He’s going to smother you in love, because that’s what he does..until it gets to be so much that you’ll feel you can’t breathe. And, then, when you try to step back to gather your wits about you, he’ll snatch it all away.”

Ok. I guess we’re doing this. I square up to her.

“You’re wrong, Ivette. His love is warmth and protection. He doesn’t smother, he surrounds those he loves. Michel only knows how to love with his whole being, and those who love him in return don’t shrink from it. They thrive in it because of their certainty of it.”

I stop talking, realizing in that moment, that it’s possible I may have confused his loving me, with my desire that he be in love with me. Is that why he isn’t ready to tell my family about us? He only told his family about our marriage because we were going to France, and would have to tell them something.

While I ponder that, Ivette isn’t leaving me room to think.

“Well, I’ve figured everything out, and I know he’s only doing all of this to get back at me. He’s only ever wanted me, so it doesn’t make sense that suddenly he’s married to you, and trying to get sole custody of our daughter.”

I roll my lips into my mouth. “Well, I hope that works out for you.”

She again blocks me as I try to sidestep. I take a calming breath as she continues.

“I’m going to fight for him, I’m going to get him back!” Her green eyes are glistening, and I can feel the desperation pouring off of her.

Still, I scoff. “It’s a little late for that, Ivette. We’re married. That’s the end of your story.”

She steps closer, towering over me in her black stiletto boots. I smile, feeling a bit unhinged, and hope starts to bloom in my chest that she gets handsy. I’ve finally had enough.

“Listen, here. I don’t care what tricks you turned to get him to look at you. That man is mine. It’s my name in his heart. You think Doriane hasn’t told me how you don’t embrace, and don’t kiss? Michel couldn’t keep his hands off me—”

“Enough!” I yell.

Ivette looks taken aback, but she doesn’t back away as I go on.

“I don’t care what your husband was like when you were married. The fact of the matter is that Michel is my husband now. And, if I want to let him dry up or have my way with him on every surface of our apartment, that’s none of your ever longing business!

So, you can just take your little skinny jeans back to LA or wherever you were, and rest easy knowing Michel’s finally getting not just the love he wants, but the love he deserves.”

I move to walk around her when she sticks an arm out in front of me. And, in a venomous hiss, she condescendingly says, “I thought Doriane’s new Mama would care more about her than this.”

I freeze, slowly turning to look the demented woman in the eyes. “I make no apology for loving your daughter like she’s my own flesh and blood..which is why I hope you don’t do anything else to her.”

Ivette’s face reddens, and I realize I struck a nerve. But, she’s been begging to meet ugly Bronwyn. Well, here she is.

“How dare you! I love my child! I would never do anything to hurt her!”

I raise a brow. “Anymore, you mean? That girl loves you, Ivette. Yet, you haven’t picked up the phone to call her once in all the time you’ve been away. Even now, you’re not here for her.”

While she chokes on the scoff in her throat, I throw up a hand to pause whatever she planned to hawk up at me. “I’m not throwing shade here. I don’t know you or your life. What I do know is that your little girl still needs you, but, the best version of you. There’s still time to gather your brains and step up for her in a real way.”

I reach for the door when her hand comes up to block it from opening, which Frank does not like. “Back off, lady!” He barks, causing her to take a step back.

I smile gratefully, as people have already gathered in the street watching the scene unfold like we’re filming the opening of a French Law and Order episode.

As she begins shrieking again, as much as I hate being the center of attention, I heave a sigh and begin pulling off my gloves and shoving them into the pockets of my wool coat.

I wave off Frank as he starts to come towards me, concern in his eyes.

“You did this!” She’s screaming. “You put Michel up to it! I should have known he wouldn’t be so stupid as to do something like this without a reason.”

Quirking a brow, I begin twisting my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck, securing it with the elastic at my wrist.

“This feels like a conversation you can continue to have out here by yourself. I would invite you in to see Dorie, but I have to clear it with Michel, first. Which I refuse to do out here. It’s cold, and I’ve worked today, so I’m going inside. You can wait out here, or you can beg Frank to let you wait in the lobby until I can reach Michel.”

The woman has the nerve to laugh in my face, her bitterness pouring out with every puff of air. “It’s Doriane, not Dorie. Aren’t you able to remember your step-daughter’s name?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

Frank pulls the door open, and I push past the hand she throws in front of me. She stumbles back and begins to curse me.

“You think so highly of yourself, don’t you? Michel would never let me work. He’d freely give me pocket money whenever I asked, but I can tell from your startling appearance, he doesn’t even care if you freeze. This won’t—”

Finally, the door closes and I can no longer hear her diatribe over near the mailboxes. The woman needs help, and there’s nothing Michel and I can do about that. Yet, the doubt she’s managed to sow, niggles at the back of my mind.

Did she get the Princess treatment because that’s how he loves, or is it because that’s what she required of him? I don’t need anything. I’m happy to just be around him…but is that the difference between us? I’m willing to take what he gives, but she can be showered?

I know it’s wrong to compare us. We’re different people, in a different relationship, yet as I unseeingly turn over yet another credit card offer, something shifts in me.

Am I just doing what I’ve done with every other relationship—with every other person in my life? Am I pouring into it, just hoping that he’ll see me?

The thought sours my stomach, and as I shut the mailbox and step out of the alcove towards the elevators, I’m surprised to see Ivette standing there waiting.

My gaze flicks over her near polished state despite her haggard appearance. Yet, although her face looks like it’s about two Botox injections away from a lawsuit, her bony frame is draped in designer clothing beneath her fur.

I don’t say a word as I walk towards the elevator, not bothering to look down at my own well loved olive wool coat. I’ve had it since my second year at NYU, so it’s seen better days.

Still, I can’t bring myself to part with it. It was a gift from my beloved Julia. It reminds me of the long nights spent conversing in French and laughing over the keys and strings of instruments. She saw me. Probably the only one to ever see me outside of Michel. I’ll always be grateful for her.

I shake my head, feeling a bit warm. I hope I’m not getting sick. As I hear Ivette’s heels tap across the tile towards me, I turn to look at her. “I’ll give Michel a call as soon as I get upstairs.”

“Call him, now,” she smirks.

I take a long suffering breath, as she continues. “I don’t want to wait down here for nothing. So, go ahead. I’ll wait.”

“You know what? Sure, let’s get this over with. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.

Ivette scoffs. “Yes..let’s see how a real husband and wife speak to each other.”

My finger hesitates on the call button, when she twists the dagger in a little further. “Let’s see if he’ll call you his ‘light’ when he answers..or tells you he’ll drown in sorrow until he tastes your lips later.”

“Enough Ivette! Good grief..we get the picture! You desperately miss him!” I angrily punch the button and put the phone close to my ear as I listen to it ring.

“This is Michel,” he abruptly answers in French.

As Ivette crows, my brows snap together. Wow. He can’t save me a little face? “Are we introducing ourselves all over again?”

His soft laughter comes over the line. “Sorry, my love, I couldn’t get my phone out of the bag fast enough. I have my earbuds in.”

Ivette’s sharp intake of breath causes me to look up in time to see the blood drain from her already pale face. I roll my eyes and look away. She needs to get a grip. The man calls his own aunt’s ‘his loves.’

Except, maybe..she’s trying to draw attention to herself. Right. Better get to the point of the call. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that Ivette is here in the lobby of the building. She wants to see Dorie, but I told her she’ll have to wait for you.”

“Ouf. Well, I’m still 15 minutes away. If you want—”

I cut him off before he can finish that sentence. The woman has burned up all my good will. I’m not sacrificing myself today. Sorry not sorry.

“Permission to speak freely, teacher?” I ask, in Japanese.

I pause, hoping that he’ll get the hint that she’s standing right here. I have no clue if she speaks Japanese, but I have to do something for my sanity. His voice is gravelly when he responds.

“Proceed.”

“I respect you, teacher, but, no. She can’t come with me.”

Despite adding a few J-dramas to my rotation over the last few months, my Japanese is still limited. Yet, as Ivette leans in, a confused look on her face, I realize she has no idea what I’m saying.

That doesn’t help me understand Michel’s response though. “I understand wah wah wah she can wait wah wah wah be there soon.”

“Thank you, teacher!” I respond, and before I lose my nerve, I turn my body away from her, lower my voice, and in my only attempt ever at a sultry voice, I add a line from an anime that I had practiced over and over because it sounded so cool.

“I will give half my life to you, so you give half your life to me.”1

When the man starts choking, probably on my horrible pronunciation, my face flames red as I add, “See you soon, my love.”

When I hang up and turn around, Ivette’s face is a mask of fury. Well as furious as a person with Botox poisoning can look. “Michel will be here in 15 minutes. You’re welcome to wait down here for him.”

Her face darkens as she steps closer, getting in my face. “I’m going to counter sue for sole custody,” she barks, “He’ll never see Doriane again. How long do you think he’ll stay with you then? When he’ll just be a shell of himself?”

I shake my head. “I can’t control what you do Ivette. My only mistake was underestimating the depths of spite you’re willing to descend to. So, congratulations..I’m in awe of your capabilities.”

Pushing the call button, the elevator begins to whir as she shrieks. “You think this is a joke? Stay with him and see what happens! I’ll take his precious daughter from him. And, the judge will be happy to take my side, because it’s not like she’s Michel’s child anyway! You won’t want him after you see what I do to him!”

My blood ices in my veins as I lean around her to make eye contact with Frank. He’s over to us in a flash, his strong Bronx accent overpowering her shrieking as he grips her by the arm.

“Alright, lady, that’s enough. You can wait outside.”

When the elevator doors open, I step in, pushing eight. But, before they close, I can see the venom in her eyes as she’s being hauled out of the lobby.

I quickly shoot off a message letting Michel know the woman went berserk, and Frank had to escort her out of the building.

Dorie’s face flashes through my mind. Her deep brown eyes, so unlike Michel and Ivette’s eyes, how small Dorie is, when her parent’s are both so tall, and perhaps, most telling of all, the dimple in her chin that neither parent has.

Ivette could be lying…but, as I step off the elevator, I can’t help but wonder if that sinking feeling in my gut means what she’s saying is true.

If so..I may have just cost Michel the real light of his life.

No matter how I think about it, I know what I saw. Ivette is crazy enough to do what she can to keep Michel away from Dorie. Even if it means hurting them both in the process.

And, it makes me sick to think about how right Ivette is. If Michel finds out that Dorie isn’t his, he would be devastated, and a judge would surely reward custody to the mother in that case, right?

What use would our marriage be to Michel then? What use would I be?

I hide in my room the remainder of the evening, sick with the thoughts running through my mind. With that ace in her pocket, Ivette is sure to threaten me with it again. How can I possibly face her if it means hurting Michel and Dorie?

It turns out, I didn’t need to worry about seeing the woman. Apparently, she fled before Michel turned up. All I can do is shake my head, sorry that she’s the kind of mother Dorie ended up with.

Which is even more reason why Ivette shouldn’t get custody of Dorie. What other horrors would she wreak on that little girl?

Would she try to keep Michel away from her completely? Would she make Dorie believe that Michel didn’t love her because they aren’t related?

After several hours, going back and forth about it, I know what I have to do, but it feels like my heart is shattering into a million pieces. Taking out my phone, I send a message to Alfie, and one to Evie.

I pack my suitcase, and push it into the closet with my fancy items. None of Michel’s clothes are in there, so he has no reason to go in there. Then I go into the bathroom to soak in the bathtub. It’s the only privacy I have in this whole apartment, and I need it to write the hardest letter I’ve ever had to pen.

Starting over several times because my tears keep ruining the page, I still manage to finish before Michel knocks to ask if I’m alright. When I tell him I’m coming out soon, and he leaves the bedroom to put Dorie down for the night, I dry off, and dress in my pretty two piece silk short set.

I didn’t bother to pack any of my new pajamas for my trip, so it felt like a waste not to wear them at least once.

I manage to hide the letter and get in the bed just as Michel comes in the room. When he asks what happened earlier, I give him the Reader’s Digest version. He isn’t satisfied with that, but he still gets ready for bed.

And, when he turns off the lights and rolls closer to hold me, like he’s done for the last couple of nights, I manage to convince him nothing’s wrong. That I’m just tired. As he kisses me goodnight, I’m barely able to hold back the tears until I turn over so that we can cuddle.

Within minutes he’s snoring, but I don’t know how long I lie awake, my mind spinning, trying to land on something—anything that would change what I have to do. I manage to fade into a restless slumber, but I’m awoken some time later when Michel gives me a kiss before he leaves for his run.

When I pull him closer and deepen the kiss, he asks what’s wrong, and I can only look at him helplessly. Then, he pulls me in for another kiss, and another, because I’m unwilling to let him go until he melts into me. And, when he finally rises to dress for his run, I feign sleep until he kisses me and leaves.

After I shower and dress, I retrieve my suitcase and leave the stupid ‘Dear John’ letter that I hate in every second chance romance book I’ve ever read. I go into Dorie’s room, kiss her goodbye and stroke her hair, before going downstairs and getting in my Uber.

I don’t look back.

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 33 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 35

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 32 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 34

Drops of blackberry tea slowly run down the screen of my monitor as I continue scanning the email in front of me.

“..pleased to welcome, Paula Chimes in her new role as VP of Finance in our…NY office..we wish you…”

My voice fades, the screen blurring as I use my napkin to swipe at the mess I made.

I’m numb, and I don’t know if it’s due to shock or if it’s because I truly don’t know how to feel about the promotion going to someone else.

Sitting my cup of tea down, I mechanically reach into my bottom drawer and pull out my winter boots. I make quick work of locking my computer, and I’ve already shrugged into my olive wool coat when I spin around to see Michel standing in the doorway.

A worried look puckers his brow, and that stirs something in me.

“Hey, Michou. I’m just stepping out for a bit. I’ll be back in time for lunch,” I stiffly offer, pushing past him as I close the door.

The murmur of office chatter swells around us as he silently falls into step beside me. I don’t have the energy to address that. I don’t even have the energy to address the buttons that greet me when we step on the elevator.

I say nothing as Michel pushes for the ground floor, and begins rapidly messaging someone on his phone. Moments later my phone pings with several messages, but I’m too busy boring a hole in the wall of the elevator to check them.

When we reach the ground floor, I step off the elevator and come to an abrupt halt by the glass entrance doors. Outside, life goes on as people bustle through the plaza. Unlike me, they all seem to know where they’re going.

“Where are you going, Michel?” I ask curiously.

His grey blue eyes are turbulent, like a summer sky after it rains. “I’m going where you’re going, my love.”

I close my eyes as I frown. “Wait. Don’t you have work to do? It’s only…” I glance at my watch. “11:20.”

“If you don’t know where you’re going, why don’t you come with me?” He murmurs.

My frown deepens as I look at the people buzzing by outside, unaware of my personal inner turmoil. Since I don’t have a better idea, I nod. “Ok.”

Silently, he takes my hand and gently guides me through the doors. As I follow Michel down the street, it feels good, not having to worry about where I’m going and how I’m going to get there, for once. Still, I’m surprised when he hails a taxi and directs the driver to take us to an address on 1st Avenue.

The streets blur as we ride in silence, Michel tapping away on his phone with one hand, his other arm around me. Yet, even his sweet leather scent doesn’t lighten my mood as I lean against him, staring blindly out of the window.

I was passed over for the job. Again. But, why? No matter how I wreck my brain, I can’t find an answer. I’m qualified, I know the job..I’ve been doing the work, and I’ve been here.

Ok, I’m angry. Yet, sitting beside the deep anger, another feeling is growing, although I can’t identify it.

As the impressive towers of Midtown melt into the shorter, more residential apartment buildings of 2nd Avenue, Michel’s fingers brush against my neck. “Are you hungry, darling?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m just..sad? Angry…and I don’t know. Whatever it is, it isn’t hunger.”

I can feel him nodding in response. “Why are you sad?”

I frown at my hands. “I think..I’m sad for the girl who tried her best, and it still wasn’t enough.”

“Zut,” Michel hisses as he pulls out his handkerchief to wipe at the tears spilling down my cheeks.

He gives new instructions to the driver, and we abruptly turn down several narrow streets. When we pull up to an office building in a street darkened by the towers rising above us, I get out, confused. “Where are we, Michou?”

He puts an arm around me, escorting me towards the glass doors of a tall building. “We’re around the corner from where I would work when I came to New York. I thought you’d like to see one of my favorite places in the city..before I knew you, that is.”

My brows rise in surprise as I follow him inside, and after showing our identification, he escorts me into.. “A rainforest?”

I look up at the trees climbing towards the sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling and windows of a garden atrium. “This is incredible. How is there an indoor park—where are we?”

Michel smiles as we walk down the brick path and descend the stairs into the fern lined garden. “This is the Ford Foundation Center for Social Justice. When I came to New York for conferences, I would come here when I had time during the day. There’s something very peaceful about a near empty garden in the middle of a bustling city.”

It’s probably the lack of benches that keeps people from staying. As we walk hand in hand, looking at flowering bushes, we continue descending the stairs until we reach the square pond at the bottom.

Soft jazz filters through the garden, and when Michel pulls me into his arms and hums, “I’m so sorry you’re sad, Winnie,” I close my eyes, inhaling his comforting scent.

Peace slowly settles over me as I relax in his arms. “Thanks, Michou.”

“Is there anything I can do?” He whispers, running his hand beneath my curls to massage my scalp.

“Mmm. You’re already doing it. Just being with me..it means everything.”

I start to say it..I love you. But, once again, I hold back.

I’ve done a good job of pretending it’s a recent discovery. That our conversation with Dorie nearly two weeks ago was the moment of truth..but honestly, I’ve known. Deep down some part of me recognized some part of him, and that’s why I said ‘I do.’

As much as I love Dorie, as much as I’ve enjoyed mothering her, and being part of her life, that couldn’t be the whole reason I signed away my life on the dotted line. After all, if her father was anyone else, the answer would have been no. Yeah, I love your daughter, but hard pass.

Why did I pretend it was anything else, and for so long? The short answer? Fear.

The same fear that keeps me from telling Dad that I’m married…and I secretly hope to stay that way. The same fear that kept me from storming into Brad’s office today and demanding to know why I was passed over. The fear…that me, who I am and what I stand for..that I’m not enough.

It’s that fear that keeps the words, ‘I love you,’ a frantically whispered prayer between my heart and Michel’s. What happens when I say them, and he leaves anyway? What happens when he expires me from his life, despite his assurances to the contrary?

So, I stand here, holding on to him, praying that he won’t let go. As for work..well. It stinks..but maybe it’s just what I needed to get me to face something that’s been eating at me for a long time.

I’m good at my job, but I don’t get any enjoyment from it. Not like I do with music. Michel mentioned a change once. What if I can do something different? Or, what if I can do a mix of both?

I’m not sure what that would look like when I have bills to pay. But, if I could figure that out, I’d be in a better place. “Michou, if you don’t mind my asking, do you think changing careers was a mistake?”

“Hmm,” his chest rumbles beneath my cheek, and I know he’s thinking. “It depends..at the end of the day, do you want to think, ‘ah, I lived a good fulfilling life,’ or do you want to think, ‘why didn’t I do this or that? I had the time..why didn’t I do it?’”

I’m quiet as I ponder that. “So, you didn’t want to regret it?”

“No. I just wanted to live. What time we’re given here, we’re responsible for how we spend it. Who do I have to answer to when everyone has their own life to spend? Why should others spend my life for me, by controlling what I do or think with their opinions?”

Is that what I’m afraid of? Am I afraid that if I change my career that I’ll have to explain myself to others?

I frown. “Am I afraid that I’ll have to justify myself—my existence to those who should know me best?”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken until Michel murmurs, “You don’t have to justify your existence to anyone, my love. If you choose to, that’s within your authority to do so, but you owe it to no one.”

He’s right. I blink, frozen, as his words resound deep within me, and with that, the last shackle, melts away. Untethered..that was the feeling growing beside the anger earlier. The anger that someone failed to recognize my hard work, the anger that I would need to justify myself in the first place, and that sense that I don’t want to.

It’s all so new, that I’m stunned for a moment as it sinks in. I don’t owe anyone an accounting of what I’m worth, or what I deserve. I look up at Michel then, certain that the love I feel for him is worth fighting for. I don’t have to explain myself to my parents, I don’t have to justify why it’s ok for me to love this man.

“You know, my dress came for the wedding in a couple of weeks. I think it may be a bit too fancy for Bakewell, England, but I’ll look great anyway.”

He chuckles, his eyes bright as he gazes down at me. “Is that what that gown is for? I saw the open box a couple of nights ago when I changed for bed, but I didn’t have time to ask about it. It’s beautiful, Winnie. You’ll look gorgeous in it, as you always do.”

I smile. “You know..if you change your mind, I’m sure I can find a tux for you and a pretty dress for Dorie.”

Swaying us from side to side, he looks uncertain for a moment. “Dorie already missed so much school at the beginning of the year, and then Parent Teacher Conferences are the Thursday before the wedding..I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

The pain of rejection knocks me for a loop, but I nod. He’s right to put Dorie’s schooling first, and what does he owe me anyway? I haven’t even been able to bring myself to tell my family about him. But, that’s going to change.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I—”

His phone buzzes, and after pulling it out, a huge smile lights his face. “There’s somewhere I want to take you, is that ok?”

“Well, our lunch break is half over by now…” I hedge, but he shakes his head.

“I messaged Sam to get the rest of the day off for us. She said she figured you would need the mental health break, so she took care of it for us.”

My brows rise, but without another reason, I can only nod. “Well, since you thought of everything, I guess I’m in your hands.”

He smirks, turning so we can ascend the stairs. “That’s exactly where I want you to be.”

Minutes later, I’m wondering if placing myself in his hands is the smartest choice, as we cross 1st Avenue towards the United Nations complex. As we approach the visitor center, and begin the process of showing ID and going through security, I lean in. “What are we doing here again?”

He flashes a mischievous smile as he winks. “We’re having a business meeting.”

My brows jump to my hairline as we step through the metal detectors and collect our things. After he talks to someone in the spare white room they consider a reception area, I’m still trying to figure out what he means.

“What business does GPMP have here?” I whisper.

Michel shrugs, as a slim man in his 30s, wearing a dark suit comes through the doors near the reception desk, and after bending to speak to a receptionist, makes eye contact with Michel and nods at him.

Without hesitation, Michel guides me with a gentle hand on my lower back towards the red haired gentleman, who steps forward without a smile, but firmly clasps Michel’s hands and greets him in French.

“It’s so good to see you again, Captain,” he murmurs in pleasant tones.

Michel hikes a brow. “It’s good to see you again, Alain, but please, it’s just Michel now. And, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Looking down at me with warmth in his eyes, Michel quietly says, “Winnie, this is a dear friend of mine, Alain Lafitte, whom I used to work closely with. Alain, this is my wife, Bronwyn Renard.”

“Ah, she took your name!” Alain flashes a smile at Michel, his hazel eyes sweeping me approvingly, as he extends his hand to shake mine. “Your husband has done our country a great service, Mrs. Renard, and now again, by bringing you into our fold. Pierre Alain Henri Lafitte, at your service.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Lafitte.”

“Alain, please,” he flashes a smile as he reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, bypassing his concealed weapon to pull out two access badges. “Here, put these on, and follow me.”

As he swipes us in through another set of doors, we enter a hallway that brings us into a bright, cavernous hall, full of colorful wall murals. Alain silently shuffles us through corridors which make the building feel as if it’s still stuck in the 60s, but I’m barely able to get a deeper impression with the speed that we’re moving.

When we reach an outer glass door, Alain steps aside and says, “You have 10 minutes. I’ll wait here.”

As we step through the doors, I have to laugh. “Do you plan to take me to every exclusive garden you can in one day?”

Michel chuckles as I look around the private garden, with views of Queens across the East River. The wind coming off the water is pretty sharp, so reaching into my purse, I pull out my black, satin lined beret and pull it on.

When he extends his hand, I slip mine into it before he turns towards the path through the bare tree. We slowly begin strolling through the garden as if there’s all the time in the world.

“It’s so beautiful here,” I smile, taking in the bushes and lawns peppered with sculptures. “Don’t tell me. You discovered this place during a conference,” I chuckle.

“That’s right.” He glances down at me with a smile as he tucks our hands into the pocket of his wool coat.

I narrow my eyes on him. “But a conference here..that..” I pause. “You were working here during UNGA month?” I ask, referring to the month the UN General Assembly meets to care for business matters.

“Only a handful of times. You’d be surprised how often this garden sits nearly empty.”

My mind flashes back to the gun in Alain’s concealed holster, how he referred to Michel as Captain..and things start coming together. Didn’t he say he dealt with security in his work with the GIGN? I look up Michel again, amazed at how humble the man is.

“Well..you’re mighty impressive, Mr. Renard.”

His nose wrinkles, just like Dorie’s does when she doesn’t like something. “Why? Because I worked here?”

I stop to look up at him. “No. Because you don’t let those things go to your head. Because you’ve done all kinds of impressive things, but your humility means they don’t define you…”

I love you, Michou.

He gazes down at me for a long moment before slowly stepping closer. “I think you’re phenomenal too, Winnie. I’ve never met a heart as warm as yours, and I’m honored that I get to be your husband, however it came about. To me, there isn’t another woman who compares to you, and I don’t want anyone other than you, so…”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a crushed velvet box and drops to his knee as he opens it. I can only gape at the delicate gold leaves of the ring punctuated with tiny brilliant diamonds and crowned with a gorgeous aquamarine snowflake that reminds me of his eyes.

“I didn’t think it would be today, but I’ve been carrying this around, waiting for the perfect time since the day you kicked me out of the house and I went to Genève for a haircut.

I want you to know that to me, you’re as unique as a snowflake. And, just like a snowflake can’t be imitated or replaced by another, there will never be another Bronwyn Sullivan Renard. You’re the only one for me, so I hope you’ll accept this.”

I stare down at him dumbly, a riot of emotions fighting for release. “Why?” I finally manage to whisper.

His smile is brilliant when he responds. “Like I’ve said before, it’s because I want to keep you, Winnie. Do you..want to keep me?”

More than anything. I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He slips the ring on in front of my wedding band, which fits around the band perfectly. “Then, that’s enough,” he says as he stands, and pulls me into his arms.

This kiss is different. There’s no urgency, and it’s almost as if Michel is saying we have all the time in the world. It’s leisurely, pleading with me to let go, to be his. So, I do, melting into the kiss.

I don’t know what this means for our future. If it means we split time between here and France, if he moves here, or I move to France, but we’ll figure it out.

When we break for air, I stare at him in wonder. “I can now confirm that women do indeed collapse from being kissed well. If you weren’t holding me up, I’m pretty sure my wobbly legs would just give out on me.”

Michel throws his head back as he laughs. “I’m so happy you said that. Our darling daughter was just telling me that I need to change my exercises so I’ll be able to carry you.”

After taking a picture, ‘for posterity,’ he bends and scoops me into his arms as he turns around to walk back through the trees. All while I blink up at him furiously. “Um, I’ll be sure to let her know that you’re plenty strong enough.”

Michel winks at me. “I think that concludes our business meeting.”

My brow wrinkles as I run my thumb across his lips to remove remnants of my lip stain. “What business was that?”

His eyes ignite into twin flames as he gazes down at me. “Why, Mrs. Renard, we just fired my work wife and replaced her with my real wife.”

I smirk as he sets me down when we approach the doors where Alain is waiting for us. Before he can open the door, I hold a hand out. “Wait. What made you bring me here? Was there something you wanted me to see?”

He smirks as he leans in to whisper. “I had this little dream, that later on, you’ll be able to tell our children when I proposed, I whisked you away to a little private island out of the country, and proposed in a beautiful garden.”

I press a kiss to his mouth before smirking, “As opposed to what? Proposing in the foyer with me in my running clothes? I think the children would understand the urgency of your request.”

Michel’s eyes warm as he stares down at me. “You know there’s just such a big difference in ambiance, having the ring and lighting just right.. it’s all very complicated, I’ll have to explain the rest to you later tonight.” He smirks.

“I do believe you’re being naughty Mr. Renard,” I whisper as Alain opens the door.

Michel winks, “Oh, I hope so, Mrs. Renard.”

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 31 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 33

I kick the flattened white, red and blue can once again, but this time it sails off the sidewalk and under a car. As we pass the car, Dorie’s sweet voice pipes up.

“Are you and Mama fighting, Papa?”

I frown as I look down at her. I haven’t heard from Ivette since she called more than a week ago to threaten me. Her words had been as ugly as ever, but I took a page from Winnie’s book, and didn’t engage in the mudslinging that my fights with Ivette usually devolve into.

Ivette noticed, interestingly enough, and when she asked what was wrong with me, I honestly told her I have no interest in dead end conversations, and especially with someone who isn’t my wife.

I don’t know why I said it, but I meant it, and it seemed to give Ivette pause. That’s when I managed to end the call.

A few days ago, I was surprised when I received a box she sent for Dorie. It was full of hair ribbons and clothes that largely didn’t fit Dorie’s rapidly growing body, but Winnie said she would take care it.

The next day, all of the clothes were exchanged at a nearby store for the correct sizes, and Dorie was happy to wear clothes her Maman had sent for her.

“Well, Papa?”

I startle back to the moment. We just have one more block until we make it to her school, and bigger children are already flying past us to run into the schoolyard ahead. After a week at home for mid winter break, they are no doubt looking forward to stretching their legs again.

“Well, what, my darling?”

“Did you and Mama fight?” She huffs.

I shake my head. “We are just having a grown up disagreement, my darling.”

As we cross the street, Dorie looks at me with fearful brown eyes. “But, you still love her, right Papa?”

I look down at her sweet face, and something tugs in my heart. It’s a hard conversation that I’ve avoided a long time.

I’ve explained that her mother isn’t angry with her, rather she’s become busy in her work, but we haven’t discussed why Ivette and I no longer live together. Maybe now is the time to begin answering these questions.

As we near the fence of the large school yard, I kneel on the cold sidewalk in front of her. “Dorie, my dear..sometimes adults do things that push other people away. You know how every morning before we leave the house, we have our kisses?”

Her eyes have teared up, but she nods as she sniffles. “Yes…first you say, be kind, be patient, and be the smart girl I always see. And then, I say you too, Papa. And then, you say I love you, my darling, and I say I love you, Papa.”

I nod, taking her little mittened hand in mine. “Because it’s true. But, how would you feel if I stopped doing that?”

She looks stricken, and the tears in her eyes begin to spill over as she says. “I like it though! It hurts my feelings if you don’t!”

“I know, my darling,” I soothe as I stroke the tears from her porcelain cheeks. “I like it too, and don’t worry, we will always have our kisses. But, can you use your imagination and pretend?

What would happen if I stopped giving kisses? If I took you to school every day and didn’t tell you I love you? Do you see how it would be very sad if that happened for a long time, even if you still wanted kisses?”

When she slowly nods, I pull out my handkerchief to wipe her cheeks as I continue. “That’s why, sometimes the one who wants to give kisses stops doing it, too. Because it hurts too much. Do you understand?”

Dorie nods her head, her long pig tails waving beneath her hat. “Yes, Papa. That would be sad. But, Papa! You can love Mama again! I love her...”

Her bottom lip quivers as she swipes at her teary eyes with the backs of her mittened hands. I wipe away the fresh tears with my handkerchief, gently squeezing her hand with a sigh.

She’s only ripping the heart out of my chest, and as I blink back my own tears, I clear my throat as I gently continue.

“Yes, and I still love you, my darling. You will always be my beautiful little girl, and you know what? My love for you can only get bigger and bigger, ok?”

When she sadly nods her head, the little yellow pom pom on her white hat flops around. It matches her tiny yellow backpack and matching coat…wait a minute.

“Dorie..didn’t Maman buy you a red coat?”

She nods, a little smile crossing her face as she starts bouncing on her toes. “Yes. But it got a rip when Andrew took it out of the cubby by mistake, so Mama gave me this coat. It’s so pretty! I like this one more.”

I freeze. Is Ivette back in town without telling me? “Um,” I frown. “When did you see Maman? Did she stop by your school?”

Dorie frowns at me, then brightens up. “Not Maman, Papa! Mama! I see Mama at home all the time!”

The knot that had formed in my belly loosens as I chuckle. “Ohhh. Mama.” I have no idea when she began referring to Winnie that way, but it fits.

“I thought you were talking about your Maman. When did you start calling Gift Mama, your Mama?”

Dorie scowls. “When Ava said that name is too long after we read a book about a boy with a really long name who fell in a well.”

“Ah,” I smile, before freezing, as another thought occurs to me. “Earlier, when you were asking about me and Mama fighting…did you mean, Mama or Maman?”

She lowers her gaze and shyly says, “You and Mama.”

“Oh!” I take her hand and smile. “Well, in that case, no. Mama and I aren’t fighting.”

Could we be better? Yes. We weren’t able to get back to our conversation that night. When I returned, Winnie was already asleep, and I worked from home last week to look after Dorie in the mornings since it was a school holiday.

Although Clara took over in the afternoons, there still wasn’t much time for private conversation with a five year old running me into the ground all day. I fell fast asleep as soon as my head would hit the pillow at night.

Dorie smiles broadly, her little mittens reaching up to cover her mouth. I pull her hands away. “Don’t cover that beautiful smile, my darling.”

She then takes my hand in both of hers. “So, does that mean you still love Mama?”

I look into my daughter’s hopeful eyes, and smile. “Of course, I do, my darling. Mama is sitting right next to you in my heart, and I’ll carry you both around, no matter where I am. Ok?”

She squeals and throws her arms around my neck as she bounces with excitement. I wrap my arms around her, standing as she clutches me.

I’m so happy that she’s happy about it, even though I’m losing my mind trying to figure out if her Mama feels the same way.

“So, does this mean it’s ok that you and Mama sit together in my heart?”

Dorie leans back to smile at me sweetly, and presses a hand against my chest over my coat. “Your heart is big, Papa. It can carry us both.”

Zut. Clearing my throat as I blink away tears, I kiss her on the cheek and set her down as we begin walking towards the school gate. Other children are already streaming into the blue building.

“Thank you, my darling. I’m happy to know you agree with my doctor.”

“You know what else, Papa?” Dorie asks, skipping beside me. “I think you’re going to have to change your exercises.”

“Why is that?”

“Because if you can’t carry me this far to school, I don’t think you’re strong enough to lift Mama yet.”

Although my face flushes as several parents eye us on their way into the building, I laugh heartily. “You know, I think you’re right. I will change my exercises right away.”

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 30 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 32

Saul greets me as I step into the lobby. I’m sure he’s related to Frank, since both doormen share the same build and dark features, but I’ve yet to ask.

Bronwyn has been trying to keep me from needlessly offending others, and while we have a difference of opinion over what that means, I can see why asking if someone is related to someone else because they share similar, non-specific features could be offensive…at least in this instance.

“Good run, Michel?”

“Not bad, now that the snow’s melting,” I respond, passing his desk and crossing into the lobby. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the eighth floor in no time, and jog in place to bring down my heart rate before entering the apartment.

After getting a drink of water, I check on Dorie. She’s still asleep, which is surprising since jet lag hit her the hardest since getting back to New York a few weeks ago. Still, I don’t have long before she’ll be up, so I head into the bedroom just as Winnie comes out of her closet, dressed for her run.

“Oh, back, already,” she smiles, her eyes taking in my sweaty form. “Good run?”

I shrug. “If you’re going to do the eastern loop today, watch out for a patch of black ice near the canon.”

“Ha!” She scoffs. “There’s no way I’m running that far in this cold. It’s the west loop and back for me today.”

I nod as I look down at her trim form in her black running tights, and thermal turtleneck. “Where’s your vest?”

She snaps her fingers and runs into the closet, slipping it on as she returns. “If I’m not back before you leave for drop off, don’t forget to take the brownies I made for the class. They’re already wrapped and sitting in the butterfly container in the butler’s pantry.”

“So, that’s where they went,” I smirk, stepping closer to zip her up when I see she’s struggling with the zipper.

She smirks, her eyes sparkling. “Show-off.”

“No, if I was showing off,” I grin, “I’d do this.”

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I lift her up, dropping kisses all over her face as she squeals.

“Ewww! You’re all sweaty! Put me down, Michel!” She laughs, as she tries to wriggle away.

“That’s the idea!” I chuckle, planting a wet kiss on her neck before setting her down. “Now, enjoy your run and be safe, darling!”

She smacks my chest as she passes by. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that last kiss! Now, reset the counter and get going!”

“Fine,” I grumble. Crossing to the small dry erase board sitting on the vanity, I erase the number 3, replacing it with zero. Now it reads: 0 days without incident. “Happy?”

She smirks. “Not yet, but I will be.” Then, with a wink and smile she’s gone.

Ever since I declared my feelings, or if you ask her, ever since I declared war on our friendship, Winnie hasn’t put up much of a fight. Honestly, not much changed from the way we’re already doing things.

We share meals, eating lunch together at work, and spending time with Dorie in the evenings after dinner. On the weekends, the three of us take trips to the zoo, a museum, or some other kid friendly activity that Winnie finds.

The only time that changes is when she has her family dinners, and that’s the longest separation we’ll have in the space of two weeks.

At night, we share the bed, although she’s adamant we continue falling asleep facing in opposite directions. Unsurprisingly, we always end up in each other’s arms, so it seems a waste to me, but if she’s happy, so am I.

However, displays of affection are a hit or miss. Holding hands while we walk through a museum, or sharing a hug when we’re upset, all perfectly fine. Even draping an arm around her when we watch dramas is acceptable. But, kissing? That’s a touchy subject.

Real kisses to be exact, and that’s fair, as rules go, especially if I’m supposed to win her over and not seduce her. Is it harder to resist with every day that goes by? That depends. Is it hard to breathe under water?

Of course! I’m losing my mind, waiting for her to get acclimated to the idea! So, it helps, at least for now, that we put a penalty and reward system in place.

For every seven days that go by without incident, we go on a date. Doriane stays home with Clara, and I get to wine and dine Winnie the way I truly wish.

So, how many dates have we been on since we’ve returned? Not one. If I didn’t know any better I’d think she was deliberately trying to get me to kiss her, because she conveniently groans over something in public at least once a week.

Of course, I must keep my word to kiss her as a penalty, which means pfft! The date for that week is off the table, which is certainly disappointing enough.

Unfortunately, there’s also the penalty for kissing Winnie to consider. The incident counter has to reset to 0, and when that happens, no hot chocolate for me.

Another shame since I wanted a cup today, but it’s not going to happen. I heave a sigh as I take a long shower. If I was resetting the counter anyway, why didn’t I make that kiss count?

The day goes by without incident. That is until 3pm, when Bronwyn wanders into the cubicle I share with Jimmy, carrying a steaming cup of something sweet.

“Hey Jimmy,” she greets, as she sits on an empty corner of my desk.

I narrow my eyes, as Jimmy responds from somewhere over my shoulder. She’s wearing the navy wide leg wrap pants with the crisp white corseted blouse I like.

I usually have trouble keeping my eyes off of her, yet, she isn’t the center of my rapt attention at the moment.

“What’s up?” I ask, as the rich scent of cocoa fills the air, making my mouth water.

“Just seeing how you’re doing,” she smirks, lifting the cup to her rosy lips. “Mmm, that’s good,” she groans.

The visit isn’t unusual in itself, but the teasing is new. We tend to keep our visits professional and brief while at work, so I’ll regretfully ignore that reaction…for now.

Yet, as I sit back and look at her, I can tell she’s buzzing with excitement. Her good mood is contagious, and I almost forget about the cocoa.

“Is there a reason you’re teasing me, this fine afternoon?” I ask, switching to French.

Her eyes turn into half moons as she giggles. “Why would I come all the way to your cubicle to tease you?”

“Winnie,” I scowl. “Either you’re going to let me have a taste of what’s in your cup, or you’ll get off my desk and get back to work.”

Again she giggles, but she leans towards me as she asks, “Would you like a taste?”

My brows jump as I try to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “Don’t think I’ll forget you owe me a kiss later, but what has you in such a good mood?”

She beams as she hands me the cup, and I’m so enraptured in the semi sweet goodness coating my tongue, I nearly miss what we’re celebrating. “Brad is leaving. He’s taking a job at Rexson Dawes in three weeks!”

“Really?” I ask, a broad smile spreading across my face. “That’s great news, Winnie! Do you think you’ll get the promotion?”

I take another sip as she smiles. “It’s possible. I’ve got the experience, I’ve proven my loyalty to the company. I should at least be considered for the job.”

“Hmm,” I murmur, through another sip. “Is it what you want?”

She sits back, folding her arms as her mouth twists in thought. “Hmm. I think it’s what I’ve been working towards. I would finally be able to afford the apartment on my own after everything is over…”

Her words are like a bucket of ice water being thrown over me. We haven’t discussed divorce in a while, but the thought of her at a time when I’m not in the picture deeply unsettles me. Does she truly plan to ignore what we have growing between us?

Granted, my life is in France, and her life is here. Staying together would be mean sacrifices for either of us.

I love Winnie, yet Dorie needs to be raised around family. I’ve yet to meet Winnie’s family, however, so how could I count on them?

And, Winnie’s work, her beloved apartment, and her family are all here. Can I ask her to leave everything behind for me? I’m just a divorced father who lives in a modest house across a hill from his parents. What can I really give her?

The pain that rushes through me at the thought of living without her takes my breath away. I take a long drink to compose myself as she goes on.

“And, my parents expect it, of course, but..I’m not sure. It seems like the right trajectory for the career path I’m on.”

My head is beginning to hurt, wondering how long we have left in our little bubble before something inevitably bursts. Still, I respond hopefully.

“Hm. So, maybe it’s a question of if you want to stay on this path, or if you’re willing to try a hybrid, or perhaps something new entirely.”

She looks at me thoughtfully as I take another sip before reluctantly holding the cup out to her. “I have to get back to work here, Winnie.”

With a smile, she brushes a hand over mine as she stands. “That’s for you, Michou. I have tea waiting for me, along with a pile of work. You’ll come get me when it’s time to leave?”

“Don’t I always?” I nod, but it’s hard to meet her eyes.

She hesitates a moment before switching to English to say, “Bye, Jimmy.”

Then, she’s gone, leaving behind a turbulent mess in my head.

“Papa, do you know what John Kim said today?”

I glance up from the book I’m reading to Dorie to stroke her soft hair. “What did he say, my darling?”

She sits up from where she’s snuggled beside me in her bed, I’m guessing to get better use of her hands, as she wildly gesticulates.“He said that I can’t just go around telling people I love them. But that’s not true, right Papa? You tell me you love me all the time, and so does Gift Mama.”

She frowns at me so incredulously, I have to fight a smile. “Did you tell John Kim that you love him?”

Heaving a sigh, she pinches the bridge of her little nose. “Weren’t you listening?”

Pursing my lips to avoid smiling, I nod thoughtfully. “Do you want to try that again?”

She sighs again as Winnie comes into the room.

“I’m just stopping in to say goodnight,” she smiles, leaning over me to drop a kiss on Dorie’s head. “Good night, cupcake. I love you.”

Dorie looks at me pointedly before smiling at Winnie and giving her a kiss. “I love you, too, Gift Mama.”

Winnie is straightening to leave, when Dorie abruptly grabs her hand. “Gift Mama, can you help Papa understand something?”

Winnie looks down at me, a question in her eyes as I shrug. Dorie tugs her hand causing Winnie to awkwardly land halfway in my lap. I put a bracing hand on her hip as she shifts to the bed.

“Ok, Papa, Gift Mama. Listen. I told John Kim that I love him, because I do, and you said that’s what we do when we love people.”

When Dorie eyes me accusingly, I clear my throat. “That’s true, my darling, but—”

“But, John Kim says that I can’t tell people I love them just because I feel that way. Then I said that’s not true, because my Papa and Gift Mama tell me they love me all the time.”

Winnie nods, a faint smile tickling the edges of her mouth. “And, what did he say?”

“He said that’s stupid, and just because my parents say it doesn’t make it true, because his parents never say it, but they love him!” Dorie huffs, throwing up her exasperated little hands.

“Then what happened?” Winnie asks, running a hand over Dorie’s hair.

“Then, I yelled at him that I didn’t love him, and I told him we aren’t friends anymore!”

Dorie’s red, teary eyed face is the only thing that keeps me from jumping up jubilantly. Even after meeting the serious John Kim I wasn’t sure I liked him being friends with my daughter. Still, I don’t want her hurt.

“Aw, come here, little koala,” I say softly, pulling her over Winnie for a hug. “It sounds like you and John Kim had a terrible fight. Maybe tomorrow it will be better.”

“No, it won’t!” She sits up as she begins wailing. “He said he hated me and I can’t have any of his kim chee anymoooore!”

“Awww,” Winnie coos, as she shifts Dorie into her lap and snuggles down next to me. While Dorie cries, Winnie rubs her back, softly telling her it will be ok.

“But, Gift Mama..he doesn’t love meee!” My darling daughter wails..and well. I’m ready to go have a conversation with John Kim, while Winnie gently rocks her.

When the crying subsides, Winnie gently asks, “Are you ready to talk about it now, my darling?”

Dorie sniffles with a nod of her head. “Yes.”

Winnie wipes the tears from her cheeks with the little handkerchief she carries around before saying. “Ok. Let’s think about this. John Kim says his family loves him, even if they never say it. Do you believe him?”

Dorie hesitates before she slowly nods. “Yes. He likes to tell the truth..like Papa.”

“So, do you think, perhaps you have a different idea of what love looks like, since your parents show their love in a different way than his?”

“Maybe,” Dorie frowns. “But doesn’t everyone say they love each other?”

“Some people do,” I smile. “But, sometimes people aren’t comfortable hearing it, or saying it.” I look over at Winnie, who’s still focused on Dorie. She doesn’t hesitate to say those words to Dorie, but will she ever say them to me?

Dorie’s frown deepens. “But, Papa, you said if I feel it, as long as I’m kind, I should say it.”

I nod, trying to figure out how to qualify that statement when Winnie saves the day. “Dorie, you know how your Papa and I always say we love you?”

Our daughter nods in response, her hands folded beneath her chin as she concentrates on what Winnie’s saying.

“Well, do you know, your Papa and I never say we love each other? Even though we do?”

Dorie’s eyes widen along with mine as we look at Winnie. “But, how do you know it if you don’t say it?” Dorie has the presence of mind to ask.

Winnie smiles. “We do lots of things together, don’t we? We like being around each other, and eating together. Would you do that with someone you didn’t love?”

Dorie frowns. “No..but you should still say it. So, the other person knows.”

I smile at my wise daughter. “You’re right, my darling. Some people never get comfortable enough to do that. Maybe that’s what it’s like in John Kim’s family. Maybe that’s why it’s hard for him to say he loves you. But, in our family,” I look at Winnie, resting comfortably under my arm. “We should say it to each other.”

Winnie looks at me, a questioning look in her eyes as Dorie exclaims. “Because it’s better that way, right Gift Mama?”

Winnie chuckles. “I guess if people hear it, no one will wonder about it.”

“Does your Papa and Mama tell you they love you?” Dorie asks.

Winnie hums thoughtfully. “My mom says it sometimes, but my dad, not as much.”

“Do you think they love you?”

My brows raise at the question, but I also want to know the answer.

“Oh. Hm. Yes. I think they do.”

“But, it would be gooder if they said it all the time right?”

Winnie offers a lopsided smile. “Better. Yes, it would be better if they did.”

Dorie nods. “Ok. It’s ok if John Kim doesn’t say it. But it would be better if he did.”

“The important thing is to respect the other person’s feelings, little koala,” I smile. “Even if John Kim doesn’t like hearing it, he should respect the fact that you feel that way. Just as you should respect the fact that he doesn’t want to hear it.”

Dorie makes an ‘o’ with her mouth, as I add, “It’s time for bed now. It sounds like you have to say sorry to John Kim tomorrow.”

“And he needs to say sorry to me!” Dorie says, crawling under her blankets once more.

“That’s right,” Winnie says, kneeling to kiss Dorie as I stand up. “Friends love each other, and they say sorry when they do something wrong.”

“But, what if John Kim’s not sorry?” Dorie inquires as I straighten from kissing her goodnight.

“Then, I will come to school and make him an offer he can’t refuse,” I wink.

Dorie rolls her eyes in response. “Good night, Papa. Good night, Gift Mama.”

“Good night, Dorie,” we call, as we close the door.

Winnie hurries through our night time routine, as I get changed for bed. The conversation with Dorie was unexpected, and I find myself wondering if the love I feel for Winnie is one sided.

Maybe Winnie doesn’t feel the way about me that I feel about her, and I’m just pushing for more. She said that we love each other, but what if she means just as friends?

But, friends don’t look at each other the way we do. They certainly don’t feel the way I do when I kiss her. Yet, if she doesn’t feel the same way…

Throwing on my pajama pants, I don’t bother with the t-shirt before I venture into the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I’m cleaning out the sink, a thought occurs to me that turns my stomach.

Am I just repeating what happened with Ivette, and pushing for something between us that Winnie doesn’t necessarily want?

Zut.

Winnie is too loving and patient to be cruel, but what if she plans to divorce when it’s convenient for me? Could I bear that?

I silently cross to the bed as I ponder it. I should be doing more to protect my heart in case Winnie decides she doesn’t want us anymore.

I put my hands behind my head as I frown at the ceiling. Have I been selfish? I should be doing more to protect Dorie’s heart if that’s what Winnie decides. What if—

Winnie’s face appears in front of me, causing me to jump as she giggles. “I was afraid you were going to destroy your lip, the way you were chewing on it. What were you thinking about so deeply, Mr. Renard?”

I take a calming breath to still my rapidly beating heart. “Oh, just this and that,” I hedge, looking away.

“Is that why you didn’t hear me when I asked if you’re done with the light?”

I look up at her blankly as she sighs, leaning over me to turn the light off. I’m immediately enveloped in a cloud of berries, and my hands reach around her before she can retreat to her side of the bed.

She freezes as my hands encircle her waist. “Um, what’s up, Michou?”

“Winnie,” I frown, trying to put my thoughts in order. “You know that I love you, right?”

My heart is rapidly beating my throat as I wait for her response. My hands fall away as she kneels beside me.

“Are you thinking about what Dorie said?” She chuckles. “You don’t have to say you love me just because your daughter said so.”

I shake my head. “That isn’t why I’m saying it, Winnie. Dorie is right. When you feel something, it’s only right to express it. I’m sorry I haven’t been very good about saying it, but I don’t want you to doubt it.”

I jump when Winnie’s hand brushes my face and runs through my hair. “I don’t doubt it, Michou. And, neither should you…in fact..”

My breath catches as I wait for her to finish her sentence.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you want to come with me to England for Briony’s wedding the first weekend in March…It’s in this little town called Bakewell, and I know it’s only three weeks from now, and Dorie has break next week..but I’d love it if you would come.”

She didn’t say it. Disappointment crashes in at the realization, her words barely registering, because all I can think is, maybe she didn’t understand what I was saying. “I’m happy for your sister, but perhaps a family event isn’t the best time to spring..whatever I am to you on your family?”

Please Winnie, just tell me what this is..tell me what I am to you. Yet, with a stilted laugh, she slides out of my grasp to her side of the bed.

“Yeah, I didn’t think of that,” she says instead.

Frowning, I sit up. We need to talk about this. Maybe if I explain my feelings, she’ll be willing to tell me how she truly feels.

“Winnie, I need you to know that, to me, you’re the—”

The loud ring of my phone cuts me off, and when I look over to see who’s calling, I heave a sigh. “It’s Ivette…it’s her first time calling since…I have to take this, but I’ll use the kitchen so I don’t disturb you.”

“Go ahead,” she says quietly.

I hesitate a moment before crawling out of the bed as I answer the phone. “Hello, Ivette?”

“Michel! How could you do this to me!” Ivette screeches. I guess the lawyer was finally able to give her notice on my petition for sole custody.

I slip out of the room to deal with Ivette’s shrieking tirade against me and my terrible parenting, which she plans to bring to light in her counter claim. Ironic, coming from the woman who left her child to sail to Tahiti on her boyfriend’s new yacht.

Still, I sit in the cold kitchen while Ivette airs her grievances, and defend my decision. Yet, the entire time, I’m keenly aware that I’ve left my battered heart in the bedroom.

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 29 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 31

“I’m never getting a massage with you again!” Michel hisses from a prone position on his table.

I giggle in response, but that turns into another groan as Celeste releases a knot. “Oh. My. Cocoooaaaa, that feels soo gooood.”

“Bronwyn, so help me!” Michel calls sharply, his voice bouncing off the rich wood paneling in the spa. “Stop. Just. Don’t.”

“I think you just need to relaaaaax, Michel. Enjoy your massage.”

I mean, really! He’s complained nearly the whole hour. Why can’t he just enjoy it? Or, allow me to, at the very least?

“Your neck and shoulders are still very tense, Mr. Renard,” his masseuse interjects. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to release that tension for you.”

“That’s alright, Louise. My wife will have to work it out later, since she’s the reason for it.”

“What?” I exclaim. With my face buried in the table, I can’t see anything beyond the beautiful wood floors. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means, my love, is that tonight, I’ll be the grateful recipient of a back massage, courtesy of your lovely little hands. After all, whose fault is it that I couldn’t relax?”

“Of all the candy corn idea—”

“Your massage is complete, Mrs. Renard. I hope you enjoyed your visit with us,” my masseuse intones, with a light pat.

“Ah, thank you so much, Celeste.”

I sit up, noticing Michel is already standing beside his table, forcefully tightening his bathrobe around him.

His jaw is set in a scowl so powerful, it could light a small city. Yet, despite his terrible mood, as I tighten the towel around me and reach for my bathrobe, I feel lighter than ever.

“You know, Mr. Renard,” I smile mischievously. “There’s a saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar.”

The bathrobe is snatched from my reach as Michel beats me to the hook, and holding it open in front of him, he impatiently grumbles. “And, if I had use for flies, I would slather myself in Narbonne honey.”

Chuckling, I shove my arms into my sleeves and pull the bathrobe closed, tying off the belt as I spin around. “You’re too sour, Captain. And, I’m not sure honey will make you the slightest bit sweeter.”

Leaning close, his gaze piercing, he brushes a stray curl up into my bun, murmuring, “I think there’s also a saying that you can’t knock it until you’ve tried it, sweetheart.”

The resulting wave of flutters that dive low in my stomach covers me in goosebumps. Bending, under his watchful gaze, I pull the towel from beneath my bathrobe, and manage to straighten with a smirk. “Is that an invitation?”

“A standing one,” he nods, eyes darkening in response. When his lips curl in an alluring grin that nearly stops my heart, it slowly dawns on me that we’re flirting.

Ignoring the tingles and the air that catches somewhere around my wildly beating heart, I wink. “I’ll certainly take that under advisement.”

Do I have any earthly idea what that means? Nope. All I know is that it provides me with a great line to escape to, and after tossing out a sassy smile, I skip out of the room to get my facial.

While I may have enjoyed one too many glasses of complimentary champagne, I honestly don’t know why Michel’s in such a bad mood.

Yesterday, after enjoying the afternoon tea, we had a lovely time exploring the place. After changing for dinner, and having a drink at the bar before a lovely meal, we went to a lounge and found a jazz quartet playing on a small stage.

It was wonderful, being held close while swaying to the music, and I only stepped on Michel’s foot once. That’s a win in my book!

Afterwards, we went back to our room, changed into our pajamas, and binged the end of our favorite drama until falling asleep.

I may have woken up in his arms this morning, but for once, there wasn’t any panic. Instead, I enjoyed the sunrise and the sound of the birds chirping as the valley woke up below.

I thought he was still asleep, so I startled when he pressed a kiss to my cheek, and without a word, disappeared into the bathroom. He came out minutes later, dressed for the gym, and he left after saying something about exchanging the casino credit.

He seemed fine then. And, after breakfast, when we changed into our snow gear and retrieved our boards after signing a dozen waivers, we took the gondola to the top of the baby slope. That’s where he pushed me down the mountain a half dozen times.

By the end of our session, I managed to come down the slope twice without falling. His grin was so wide, and we were so loud when he picked me up to celebrate, that several people shot us disapproving looks. Yet, we didn’t care.

We enjoyed onion soup with Croque Madames while we discussed bringing Doriane when we return in the spring. He even let me sip his hot chocolate without a single pout, before we went back to the room to relax before our massage appointment.

No..whatever happened was sometime between coming out of the locker rooms and getting on the massage table. Could it be that his masseuse, Louise, hit on him?

I gasp at the outrageous thought, leading a cucumber to slide off my face. “Oops,” I mutter, as the aesthetician picks it up.

“It happens all the time. I have more. Just relax, Mrs. Renard.”

With a word of thanks, I replace the fallen slice with another, before settling back to return to my musings.

Michel was always in a bad mood when he got hit on at the office. Of course! That must be what happened. Although…

Louise looks old enough to be his mama, but maybe she doesn’t care about age. Now, I’ll have to deal with the rotten egg tornado she unleashed, since he doesn’t have a kitchen to take his frustration out on.

I spend the remainder of my facial trying to think of what I can do to soothe his bad mood. Yet, even after changing and floating through the halls up to our room, I’m clueless. Well, maybe he isn’t back from wherever he went while I was out.

I’m hopeful when I open the door and slip out of my boots into the hotel provided slippers. However, that bubble is immediately burst when I swing around the corner to see him laying across the bed in his pajama bottoms and bathrobe.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is,” he smirks, dropping his phone on the bed. “You’re positively glowing, my dear. Now, it’s finally my turn.”

My eyes narrow as he points to his back. He can’t be serious. “Yes, I’m glowing. Which is why I’m not going to ruin this high by giving you another massage.”

Rolling my eyes, I cross to my side of the bed. “Are we ordering room service, or, are we going out to eat?”

He tilts his head as he considers me. “Since we have a credit, I’ll order room service for dinner, if you don’t mind? You can look at the menu, but I think I know what you want.”

I glance at him suspiciously, because it feels like a setup, although I don’t know why. “Sure, room service sounds great. I’ll just get changed.”

Picking up the knit pajama set Sam gave me, I head into the bathroom. The shorts are shorter than I like, and, I’ll have to keep the duster pulled closed over my legs to keep the chill away, but, the outfit is soft, and surprisingly warm.

When I return, Michel’s eyes are glued to the room service book open on his lap. He doesn’t look up when he asks in a subdued voice, “Will the back massage happen before or after dinner?”

I can’t help it. I start giggling. He’s certifiable. “You’re crazy! Why should I give you a massage? I’m not the one who offended you!”

He nods, his eyes raking over me when he looks up. “If it’s before dinner it would get cut short when the food arrives. After dinner it is.”

Without awaiting a response, he pulls up the app in his phone to order, pausing to look up at me questioningly. “Are you having the pasta with the shrimp or the chicken tonight?”.

“Neither!” I huff, crossing the room to pluck the menu from his lap. “You have no idea what I want! Maybe I want steak! Or fish!”

He leans against the headboard, folding his hands in his lap as he quietly watches me peruse the menu. It makes me feel tingly, so I cross to the two person dining table and cross my legs as I sit down.

Yet, after scanning the menu twice, I have to face the fact he was right. I want the pasta.

Pulling my lips into my mouth, I glance at his knowing face, and narrowing my eyes, I declare, “I’ll have the tortilla chips and guacamole.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Do you want any protein with that?”

“Chicken,” I huff.

“And, dessert?” He asks, picking up his phone. “They have a chocolate mousse that’s—”

“I’ll have the crème brûlée cheesecake.”

Chuckling, he places the order, tossing his phone aside when he’s done.

“Let’s play a game while we wait, Winnie,” he says abruptly.

Looking at him warily, I pull the sleeve of the rose duster over my shoulder from where it slid. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his lips twitch. “What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know. You losing..and being in a worse mood than you’re already in.”

He tilts his head, his gaze thoughtful. “Why do you think I’m in a bad mood?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I’ve been thinking about it since I left the massage room. I thought Louise hit on you, and that upset you.”

His roar of laughter is unexpected, but I’m not sure if it’s a good change or not. “You thought..” He dissolves into laughter again. “Why would you think Louise hit on me?”

I narrow my eyes on his. “Why else would you get so upset in there? You weren’t upset the whole day until then.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he strokes his jaw. “Winnie, do you really not know what you sound like when you’re enjoying something?”

Frowning, I take out my hair tie and undo my bun to massage the back of my head. “Is this about how much noise I make again? Because if it is, I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s not about you enjoying the experience, my dear,” he interrupts with a shake of his head, his turbulent eyes fastened to my face. “It’s about how you sound as you do so. It sounds…delicious, and makes me want to enjoy it too.”

Oh. Ohhh. My body tingles as he watches me, and now I get it.

The silence that follows is full as he holds my gaze. I should hold back. Ignore the burning curiosity. Yet, the need to know grows with every thump of my heart.

“Do you..does it give you the tingles?” I whisper.

He slowly nods. “If that’s what you call it, then yes.”

“Oh.” My cheeks redden as I realize this whole time..ugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, the tingles aren’t the problem.”

“Then, what’s the problem?” I ask, frowning as I try to understand.

Michel sighs, running a hand through his wavy hair. “It’s hard to explain.”

I lift a brow in challenge. “Is it hard to explain, or do you not want to explain?”

His brows rise in response, but he smirks. “Probably both.”

I nod in understanding. “It’s ok. Mama already explained it to me. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I get it now.”

His brows shoot to his hairline. “What did Mama explain?”

I scowl as I remember. “Before or after she flicked me in the forehead?”

He sits straight up in the bed. “No! Winnie no, I don’t believe you! She would never!”

“Twice!” I say, holding up two fingers as I grimly nod.

He collapses against the pillows holding his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Winnie. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have talked to her—I’m still going to talk to her. This is too—”

“No!” I firmly shake my head, as he reaches for his phone. “She already said that you’ll have to be the one to kiss it better. Which is why I didn’t bring it up in the first place.”

Michel takes a deep breath as he covers his face, and when he drops his hand he’s hiding a smile. “Ok, what else did she say?”

I shrug. “She said when I’m enjoying something, you’re jealous of what goes into my mouth, and if you just learned to keep your eyes off me, you’d be fine.”

When he howls with laughter, I’m not sure whether I should laugh or be offended. “Was she wrong?”

“I didn’t know Mama could suggest something so impossible,” he bellows, covering his red face.

My eyes snap to his as he wipes away tears. “I mean, it’s worth a shot. Just give it a try, maybe if you order the same thing that I have and—””

“Zut, Winnie,” he exclaims hoarsely, shaking his head as he throws up his hands. “Don’t you understand, it’s you I want?”

My mouth snaps shut as I blink at him. “I’m..sorry. What does..”

Closing his eyes. “It’s my issue, so I don’t want you to worry about it..it’s just..you moan over everything. What am I supposed to do with the constant tingles, as you call them?”

I sit frozen, my mouth opening and closing as I struggle to think of a response. “Are you saying, the tingles are because you want me, want me?”

“Yes,” he says simply, his eyes trained on mine. “That’s what the tingles mean, Winnie.”

I blink rapidly as my mind runs through every time I’ve gotten the tingles over the last few months. Oh, nooo. Dropping my head into my hands, I groan. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know—if I had realized I never would have-have—”

“It’s alright, Winnie,” Michel says kindly.

“No! It’s not alright,” I sit up, the heat of embarrassment clawing up my neck. “If it were alright, it wouldn’t have upset you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“But, it seems like you’re upset when you’re all, ‘whose fault is it that I couldn’t relax?’”

I ignore the tingles his tender smile elicits, as he says, “It may seem that way, but it’s not annoyance, or anger. It’s…like electricity..when there’s no outlet..it’s pent up and it just,” he whirls a finger in the air. “Goes round and round.”

He’s…right. That’s exactly how it feels. Like energy that’s just building up, with nowhere to go. I frown. “Then go to the gym or something. Why do you keep bothering me?”

Smirking, he gets off the bed and ambles over to me, leaning down until we’re eye level. I press my head into the wall as he places one hand on the table and the other on the back of my chair, effectively caging me in.

“I wonder who’s responsible for generating the electricity? Who else should help me solve the problem, but the generator?”

Drowning in his spicy leather scent, I dip my chin as I glance up at him and try to catch my breath. “Um…are you saying..you’re being mean—”

“Teasing,” he says firmly, his eyes locked on mine.

“Ok, teasing me, because it helps..lessen the electricity?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it generates more.”

I frown as I pull my bottom lip into my mouth. I really hate to ask..but I’ve never felt the tingles with anyone else. Swallowing around a lump in my throat, I bravely ask, “What would get rid of it completely?”

His eyes darken as they drop to my lips before he looks into my eyes. “That’s a trick question.”

Doing my best to ignore the buzz that’s electrified me, I press on. I need to know. “Why is it a trick question?” I whisper.

He takes a deep breath, then softly says, “Because, like the teasing, it could help, or it could generate more electricity.”

When I begin rapidly blinking, trying to figure out what he means, he chuckles. “When we kissed yesterday, did it help your tingles, or make them worse?”

My heart stops..restarts. “Ohhh. I thought you were just thanking me…”

His thick brows rise in response. “Do you kiss people like that to thank them?”

I narrow my eyes on him. “Ok..so you’re saying that sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Did the kiss help or not?”

My breath hitches as I stare into his eyes. They’re teasing, but kind, and..that warmth is there again. I clear my throat. “Um, probably both, if I’m honest.”

He nods. “See. Trick question.”

“But, there must be a solution,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “Like what goes up must come down. It has to go somewhere..”

Michel stands up with a strangled sound as he looks up at the ceiling. “If I didn’t know any better, I could swear you’re trying to kill me, Winnie.”

I purse my lips with a frown as I watch his pulse jump in his muscular neck. “I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m just trying to understand, you don’t have to—ugh. Never mind.”

“No,” he looks down at me, all teasing gone. “You just—I’m sorry. The tingles. To answer your question. There’s only one way to completely get rid of the electricity for a while. Until it builds up again anyway, but that..just..it’s not something we can do.”

I blink up at him as I realize what he’s saying. “Holy ghost peppers…you mean..” I swallow, “sex.”

Of course that’s the answer. Why didn’t it occur to me before I put my foot in my mouth? It’s not like I’m unaware of its existence, I just never had a use for it before. Sort of out of sight, out of mind.

All of the air seems to leave the room as we silently stare at each other now, a new awareness filling the space.

Ding dong!

The sound of the doorbell breaks our charged eye contact, and he silently goes to the door, while I relearn breathing. When he returns, pushing the room service cart beside the table, I can’t bring myself to make look up as he sits across from me.

“Your dinner is served, Mrs. Renard,” he says, whisking a lid away to reveal my tortilla chips and guacamole.

It’s what I asked for, but it’s not what I wanted. I struggle to contain my disappointment as he sits it on the table. “Thanks,” I frown.

Between this and the newest revelation that I’m going to have these tingles with no way out for the foreseeable future..I’m feeling…I don’t know..anxious? Angry? No, that isn’t it either.

I look up when Michel extends his hand towards me across the table. “Should we pray?”

“Absolutely,” I sigh again, taking his hand as I close my eyes. But, he doesn’t say anything.

When his thumb lightly skims my fingers, I open an eye to see he’s staring at me rather intently. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Neither of us planned for it to go this way, and if it’s too hard, just give me the word. We can figure out an alternative. We can spend less time together..I can go in your room at night, but sleep in the music room. Whatever will help.”

I eye him dubiously. “You think that’s the solution?”

The hesitation in his eyes is all the answer I need. Shaking my head, I stick a chip in the guacamole and take a bite.

“Obviously, you’re the expert here, but it seems like we are the problem. Maybe you’ll be fine without our friendship, but I won’t be. So, we need to come up with a solution. Like…why are you holding my hand?”

The question is abrupt, but it’s been buzzing in the back of my mind, and popped out on its own. He looks startled, but he doesn’t let go as he heaves a sigh. “Permission to speak freely?”

Waving my free hand, I take another chip. “Don’t you always?”

Shooting me an insulted look, he flatly says, “No. But, I will now. I like you, Bronwyn.”

“I know,” I say, finishing my chip. “I like you, too. That’s why this works.”

He gently tugs my hand. “No, I really like you. I’m attracted to you as a person, and I think you feel the same way about me.”

“Well, of course, I like...” My eyes snap to his as he nods. “Oh my cocoa.”

“I’m right, aren’t I.” He states matter of factly.

I close my eyes. Of course he’s right. I’ve been shoving it down for…months. “But, I can’t..you can’t. Those were your rules, and I’ve been killing myself trying to stick to them, because we’re friends.”

Huffing out a breath, he nods. “I know. And, at the time, I thought it was possible to be friends and keep feelings out of it, but..you’re phenomenal, Winnie. Even when you were struggling, you did your best to maintain our friendship while you heaped love on Doriane and me…I’ve struggled with my feelings as well, but for different reasons.”

“And, it’s too, hard now? So you’re giving up?” I ask incredulously. “Isn’t our friendship worth fighting ourselves over? You’d rather dial back our friendship than figure out how to live with whatever’s going on between us?”

He blinks at me. “What? Why would I give up? I’m trying to move forward, because I don’t want this to hold us back.”

I snatch my hand out of his as I massage my scalp.

“So, that’s it?” I feel queasy, but I take a shaky breath to steady my nerves. “I suppose I can stay by my parents..but..the questions—”

“Bronwyn. What do you think I’m—No. Look at me.”

I slowly raise my eyes, even though I feel like I’m going to throw up. His grey blue eyes are earnest as he takes a deep breath. “I want to date you.”

My brain stutters. “Um..what?”

A faint smile curls the edges of his mouth. “We’ve tried fighting it, and look where it’s gotten us. I’m not saying it’s the solution to all of our problems, but—”

“No.” I’m surprised myself, but as I emphatically shake my head, I know it’s right. “Absolutely not, Michou. Our friendship is too important to be ruined over something like..tingles or electricity, or whatever you want to call it. No!”

“What makes you think it would be ruined?” He patiently asks.

“Because, that’s what always happens! One friend falls, and then the other doesn’t like them enough to stay. I’m not going to be the reason things don’t work out. We have to think about Dorie, and our home life. Now’s not the time to think only of ourselves. And—why do you always break your own rules?”

“Why do you always make me want to break them?” Michel asks, leaving me speechless. He sits back and studies me a moment. Then picking up a platter, he sits it in front of me. “Your food is getting cold. Do you want me to pray?”

The subject change is unexpected, but I nod, needing a moment to deal with my newly frazzled nerves. Afterwards, forgetting I already have chips and guacamole, I lift the lid of the platter in front of me, revealing a plate of Chicken Carbonara.

I stare at it in confusion, as Michel’s voice gently breaks in.

“I may not know everything about you, Winnie, but I know you, and more so, I know myself. I’m not someone who will want you one day, and forget you the next. I’m not made that way,” he adds quietly.

I’m mesmerized by the conviction in his eyes as he goes on.

“You are who I want, so I mean to work towards you. And, this will end in one of two ways. Either you will expire me from your life, or…”

He was awake that night?

I raise a brow in challenge, the tingles overwhelming with every heartbeat that passes. “Or?”

His mouth curls in a wicked smile as he opens his platter revealing a beautiful lamb shank over mashed potatoes and green beans. “Or,” he says, slicing into his tender lamb, “you’ll have me. All of me. And, I’ll have all of you.”

He puts the bite in his mouth and groans as he slowly chews. “Mmm..so good.”

I swallow. Hard. It seems the big bad wolf has returned, and he’s not leaving without a bite.

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 29 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 31

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 28 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 30

“What’s this?” I ask, holding up the two bags I found while Michel and I broke down the pillow fort.

Doriane is already sound asleep in her bed, and we’ve got most of the sheets, blankets and pillows put away already. That just leaves the dishes.

He glances up from the stack of bowls and cups he’s balancing. “Oh, just some things I brought back from Genève. If you don’t mind, would you take it upstairs with you when you go?”

“I didn’t realize you were going to Geneva today,” I venture, as I trail behind him.

I know where he goes isn’t my business, but it doesn’t stop me from being curious. He glances at me as he sits the dishes in the sink and begins washing them.

“I thought I’d stop by to see Ben after getting my haircut. Sam says ‘hi,’ and the large bag is from her.”

“Oh,” I respond, peeking into the bag. Seeing two white boxes wrapped with bows, I wonder what it could be, but I’ll check when I get upstairs.

“And, the small bag is from me,” he adds, not looking up.

“Can I open it now?” I ask, pointing to the bag.

“Of course.”

Crossing to the other side of the island, I reach inside the small bag and pull out a small thin box. I gasp. “Is this Swiss chocolate?”

His eyes flick up to mine as he nods and begins cleaning the sink. Meanwhile, I’m filled with an inexplicable warmth.

A huge smile spreads across my face. “Thank you so much!”

His brow wrinkles. “It’s only chocolate, Winnie. I haven’t won a war.”

Chuckling, I slide off the ribbon and open the box of multicolored bon bons. “Oooh. We’re going enjoy this!”

Popping one in my mouth, as the cherry and dark chocolate melt together on my tongue, I groan. “Mmm, this is so good. Would you like some coffee to go with it?”

“No, it’s late.” Michel’s head snaps up, a look of bewilderment shading his eyes. “And, I bought it for you. They’re yours.”

I raise my brows. “Ok? We can still share.”

He gives a shake of his head as he folds the towel over the sink to dry. “Don’t you keep anything for yourself?”

“Why would I?” I ask, my brows furrowing as I cross to the refrigerator to store the box of chocolate. “Wouldn’t you do the same thing?”

“Hm,” he says thoughtfully as he turns off the light. “With you, yes.”

“Unless it’s hot chocolate,” I smirk, picking up the last gift back before we cross the great room, turning off lights. “You would never share.”

He scoffs behind me as we climb the stairs. “Under what circumstance would I have hot chocolate and you wouldn’t have your own?”

“That’s not the point,” I giggle as I reach the top and turn towards our bedroom. “Hot chocolate is the love of your life, you never share.”

Tossing the large gift bag on the bed, I cross to my suitcase to take out a fresh floral bonnet.

“That’s not true,” he declares, sitting on the side of the bed. “I’d let you..have a sip.”

I have to laugh as I re-twist my hair in a high bun, and secure the bonnet with a bow. “Yeah, no. You’re not fooling anyone.”

His eyes narrow on me playfully. “Fine. It wouldn’t be my first instinct, but if you wanted it, of course you could have it. Besides. There must be something that you love, that’s impossible to share.”

Frowning, I rest my hands on my hips. “I can’t think of a single thing. It’s ok. It just means we’re different people.”

He sits up, wide eyed. “You can’t be serious, Bronwyn. Everyone has something that they like to keep for themselves. Even Dorie keeps her baby koala in a special case.”

I chuckle. “You just don’t want to be alone. But it’s ok. I get it. It doesn’t bother me.”

Michel scowls. “So..there’s nothing you wouldn’t share with me?”

I shake my head. “Nothing, my dear.”

Looking about wildly, his eyes land on the gift bag on the bed. “What about that?” He points. “It’s brand new. You haven’t opened it. What if I wanted it?”

Bending at the waist, I burst into laughter. “Wait. You don’t even know what it is!”

He doubles down, with a shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. I want it. Are you going to let me have it?”

Laughing, I reach for the bag, but he’s faster. As the bag spins out of my reach, I lunge across the bed for it, but he lifts it above his head.

“Michou!” I exclaim, still laughing, but a little skeptical. “You’re not serious!”

He chuckles, his grey blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Are you saying there is something you wouldn’t share?”

“You know what…be my guest,” I laugh, sitting up. “It’s all yours.”

Eyeing me skeptically, he purses his lips. “Really?”

I nod, enthusiastically. “Sure. I’m a woman of my word.”

He scoffs and continues to eye me as he shakes the white boxes out of the bag onto the bed. Tucking my sleep shirt over my knees, I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting not to smile.

When he looks down at the boxes calculatingly, I lift a brow, wondering if he’ll choose to backpedal. “It’s ok, Michel. You can take the next—”

“No way!” He holds up a hand, his eyes darting between the large and medium sized boxes. “They’re mine!”

Gesturing towards the boxes I smile. “By all means. I hope to see you enjoying whatever you find in there..”

“Of course, I will,” he declares haughtily, as he picks up the large box first. Pulling the ribbon off, we both look down with interest as he lifts the cover to reveal a rose pink knit sweater.

“Ha!” He says, pulling it out. “It’s so soft! This is going to look so good on me!”

I’m doubled over in laughter as he unfurls the sweater to reveal it’s a duster, and as he holds it up to his chest, two other pieces fall out. A matching pair of sweater knit shorts and a cropped tank.

I lean over to hold up the shorts. “Mmph. You’re going to look great in these.”

Snatching them out of my hand, he turns his nose up. “Of course I will! Do you think I work out for nothing?”

I dissolve into a fit of laughter as he refolds everything and places them back in the box. “Ok, well, maybe I can borrow it when you aren’t wearing it.”

“I’ll think about it,” he sniffs, pushing that box away.

As he pulls the medium box towards him, my mouth twists into a smile. “Careful now. You might not like this one.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re already scheming to get it back! Shame on you, Winnie!”

I eagerly look down as he pulls off the ribbon and uncovers the box to reveal..a bonnet.

“Ha!” Michel exclaims victoriously. Lifting the rose pink satin confection from the box, he immediately puts it on his head and begins tying the bow as he says, “It’s what I always wanted! Thank you so much! My hair is going to be so silky now!”

I’m howling in laughter as he models the bonnet strings, when I happen to glance back down at the box and freeze. Michel is too busy styling his bonnet to pay any attention. But as the hysterical laughter builds in my chest, I look up at him.

“I’m super interested in how you plan to model this look.”

“Please,” he scoffs, turning to face me, “I look good in any—”

The words curdle in his throat, his eyes bulging as he looks down at the sheer rose, lacy—I actually don’t know what it is—lingerie decorated with tiny pink buds and green leaf appliqués.

Is it a onesie?

“Well?” I inquire as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You plan to try this on, too?”

“I think…you can have it,” he says hoarsely, before glancing at the box and blanching. “Uhh, all of it.”

He shoves the box in my direction as I laugh. “What happened? I thought it’s the reason why you—”

I look down at the box, and that’s when I see the sheer periwinkle bralette set and..yeah. Why is it just now occurring to me that this stuff is actually mine?

With a strangled sound, I drop the lingerie back in the box, and shove the cover on it. “Umm,” I actually have no clue what to say.

“I’m going to shower,” Michel abruptly announces. And, snatching the bonnet off, he drops it on the bed, gathers a few items from the closet and disappears into the bathroom.

Slapping a palm to my face, I make quick work of dropping the new clothes in my suitcase, and jump in the bed. Shooting a quick message off to thank Sam for the gift, because there’s no way I’m telling her what happened, I hurry to throw my phone on the charger.

Then, turning my light off, I roll over and close my eyes, hoping to avoid further embarrassment. But, I needn’t have worried. The shower is still going when I drift off to sleep.

With it being our last week in France, we spend most of our time coming and going from Mama and Papa’s house, cooking and hanging out with the rest of the family. I fully expect that’s how the rest of the week will go, so I’m folding my laundry and separating the outfits I’m still wearing from the clothes I’m going to pack, when Michel steps into the bedroom Wednesday evening.

“Do you have a minute, Winnie?” He asks, glancing at the clothes.

As he yanks his sweater off, over his head, I look up from rolling socks. “What’s up?” I ask.

“My family did something, and I’m not sure…” his voice fades as he disappears into the closet.

“I can’t hear you!” I call.

Seconds later, he comes back with a white t-shirt thrown over his pajama bottoms. “I said my family did something. I’m unsure how you’ll feel about it, but they wanted to give us a wedding gift.”

Frowning as I try to figure out why that’s a bad thing, I nod. “Ok..what is it?”

He sinks into his side of the bed, his stormy eyes trained on me. “They booked a suite for us at a resort for two nights.”

My frown deepens. “That’s so thoughtful of them, but they don’t have to do that.”

His mouth is set in a thin line when he nods. “They organized it because they want to do it for us. It’s already paid for, and Doriane will be with her cousins at Eloise and Ernst’s house.”

“Oh..well..that’s really thoughtful of them. When is it?” I ask.

“Tomorrow. We’ll return on Saturday afternoon.”

My brows shoot up as I consider my stacks of clothes. “Um! Ok, I’ll um..what kind of resort is it? What should I pack?”

“Come, I’ll show you,” he smiles, pulling out his phone.

Not long after, I have a better idea of what to expect at a luxury ski resort village, so after packing my large tote for our trip, I climb into bed as he turns off the lights.

“I can’t believe we’re going home on Monday,” I yawn as I settle beneath the blankets. “New York feels like a whole world away.”

“Tell me about it,” he mutters. I hear him pull his t-shirt off like he does every night, but he doesn’t turn over right away. “I was just getting used to sleeping in a bed again.”

I wince, remembering that he was still sleeping on the floor at home. “Maybe, that doesn’t have to change. I mean, we survived sleeping in this bed just fine. My bed at home is a lot bigger..”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Do you mean it?”

I nod. “Yeah..it would be weird to put you back on the floor. Unless you prefer it..”

“No,” he says, so vehemently that I chuckle. “I prefer the bed.”

“Well, you were a good sport about it, Michou. Thanks.”

He shifts, and his voice seems closer. “Are you thanking me?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I yawn. “Why not? You were only on the floor to keep me comfortable, and I appreciate the sacrifice. So yes. I’m thanking you.”

Silence descends as sleep begins pulling at me. Then, Michel’s voice quietly slices through the stillness. “Thank you Winnie, for putting up with me, and allowing me in your bed.”

I yawn again, the dark edges of sleep descending as I murmur, “Well, it’s our bed, now, Michou. Night.”

“Good night, my love.”

The scenic drive through the snow capped mountains is majestic, with a small scuffle over the music being the only distraction on the one hour drive.

Happily, I win the music war when I find a world pop playlist that we both enjoy. From then on, the drive is spent alternately singing along to the music, and discussing Michel’s concerns about Doriane’s friend, John Kim.

All too soon, we find ourselves driving through the adorable village of Megève, with its concrete and wood buildings full of fancy boutiques and restaurants. Although the skies are clear now, it looks as if it recently snowed, since there’s a white blanket coating everything. Pretty soon, we’re turning down the fir tree lined driveway to the resort.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, as we pull up to the large stone and wood façade of Le Grand Hotel du Mont Blanc.

“This is where Julie works,” Michel offers, referring to one of his cousins as he parks the SUV. Immediately, one of the bellhops approach, and after retrieving our bags, which Michel insists on carrying, we approach the front desk.

After getting checked in, we head for the elevator in the adjoining building through the dark wood and marble lobby. Its high ceilings allow in plenty of light through floor to ceiling windows, but it still feels cozy and intimate, with several seating areas scattered throughout. A bar at the corner of the lobby looks inviting with soft looking easy chairs clustered in front of a massive stone tiled fire place.

The elevators for the Blanc building is just past a restaurant, and as we step on, swiping the key card for the third floor, I turn to Michel with a huge smile.

“This place is beautiful!” I excitedly whisper.

Michel looks down at me with a warm smile. “I’m glad you like it. Maybe after we get settled you’d like to get something to eat?”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” I exclaim as the elevator stops at our floor.

When we get to our room, I hold the door open so that Michel can drop our bags in the large walk in closet in front of us, before walking down the short hallway into the rest of the room.

“Oh, Michel! It’s amazing..look at this view!”

Past the pillow lined, cream loveseat and dining area, and past the plush, high four poster king bed, framed with scenic blue and white toile wallpaper and mirrors, are the balcony doors.

Beyond it, Mont Blanc rises in the background in all its snow covered glory, as sunlight glints off the helmets of skiers coming down the powdery white slopes in the foreground.

I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. It’s so picturesque, I’m finding it hard to believe I’m here. As Michel steps through the balcony doors, I whirl around to excitedly ask, “Do you think we can go snowboarding?”

A little smile curls his mouth as he raises his brows. “Sure. It’s likely they only have ski rentals here, so we may have to go to a specialty shop to rent boards. I’m surprised you want to go.”

I turn around to look at the mountains in front of us. “Julia convinced me to try it when my senior class went to a ski resort.”

The memory dims some of my enthusiasm, and I’m grateful when Michel’s arm lands on top of my shoulders. “So, you were a daredevil back in school…”

“Ah, no,” I chuckle, leaning into his side. “Just not as stubborn about trying new things.”

He chuckles in response, his eyes more blue than grey as they reflect the sunlight. “Were you any good at it?”

“Not at all!” I laugh. “I spent three of the four days on my butt as I tried to figure out side slipping.”

He tucks his lips as he tries not to laugh, but his eyes sparkle in mirth. “And, the fourth day?”

I wrinkle my nose at the memory. “I spent it in bed, trying to recuperate.”

His laugh rings out as he gently swipes the back of his fingers up and down the side of my neck. “I guess we should book the massage for tomorrow evening. You’ll need to quickly recover after a day on the slopes.

I shiver as the butterflies agree his fingers are doing something, but I smile anyway. “That would be great. Wow..we really have to thank your family for such a wonderful treat.”

“I can think of one way.” He pulls out his phone and holds up the camera. “We’ll send them lots of pictures.”

After snapping the picture, he sends it to his family group chat, and I watch as the responses roll in. “That’s a lot of heart eye emojis,” I smile.

Michel shrugs, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Let’s see if we can book the couples massage before we look for something to eat.”

Stepping back inside, I allow myself to take in the wood details and beige rugs that I missed earlier. The room is decently sized, and the TV on the wall opposite the bed is a welcome sight.

The generous sized marble bathroom accessed through a sliding wood door, is simple but elegant with its clear walk in shower, picture window set over a deep soaking tub, double sinks, and water closet.

When I return to the bedroom, planning to hang my coat, Michel is just finishing scheduling the massage through the app. He looks up with a smile. “Good news, they have snowboards downstairs, but very few. I can book it for either 10am or 3pm tomorrow.”

Since his family booked a package, there are several prepaid activities, including the massage, a one day ski pass, 100€ credit at the casino, a dinner voucher, and a voucher for two drinks each at the bar.

Settling beside him on the loveseat, I lean over to peer at the times in the app. “Hm. Since the massage is at 6pm, why don’t we do 10am? That will give us plenty of time on the hill, and we won’t have to rush back.”

He nods, and after getting the confirmation, he glances at me with a thoughtful frown. “About the casino…I don’t gamble, but if you want to go, I can give you some pocket money. Is 2,000€ ok?”

My mouth drops open in shock. First of all, why would he give me money to throw away? And secondly, why would he give me money? “Um, wow. I don’t gamble either.”

His brows rise as he nods. “Ok. I’ll see if they’ll be willing to convert the credit to a dining credit or something else.”

“Good idea. But..if you don’t gamble, why would you want to bankroll it?”

He pauses. “I think..I asked out of habit. Ivette could be very persuasive, and I guess I just learned to pick my battles. Some choices, like avoiding drugs and alcohol while pregnant, well that was worth fighting over.

Others, weren’t my choices to make, and there wasn’t much I could do except voice my concern, get her in rehab…I don’t know why I tried so hard to change her mind..or, why I’m bringing all of this up, now.”

As he self-consciously runs a hand through his wavy hair, I resist the urge to do the same when I respond. “Real love hopes all things, doesn’t it? It doesn’t give up on people.”

Michel grimaces. “Except, that’s exactly what I did, isn’t it? I gave up on Ivette. I gave up on our family…”

He stares out of the balcony doors, misty eyed. Resting my hand on his to bring him back, I give it a gentle squeeze. “No. She gave up on your family. Every time she didn’t choose you and Dorie, she was showing that her heart was elsewhere. While it’s a shame she couldn’t see what she was freely throwing away, her inability to do so was never your responsibility.”

I’m startled that I spoke so passionately, but it makes me angry that he continues to bear guilt for something that isn’t his fault. My eyes flash as I gaze up at him, and finding him staring at me with so much warmth in his eyes, it sends a tingle through me.

I poke him in the side, trying to distract myself. “You can only do what you can do. So what, if Ivette couldn’t figure it out. So, it came to an end because there wasn’t anything left to protect. That doesn’t define you, or your life. Zut, I’m sure Ivette isn’t letting it define her, and it sounds like she was the cause of a lot of issues. So, why should you?”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” He whispers, his eyes searching mine.

“More than anything,” I nod. “Because otherwise, who are you torturing yourself for? Who is it helping?”

He stares at me a long moment, his eyes saying things I wish I could decipher, before he rests a gentle hand on my cheek. I startle when he pulls me closer, brushing his lips softly against mine before he hesitates, a breath away.

I lean forward, tumbling back into the kiss, and when he deepens it, I gasp with the butterflies it unleashes. He pulls back, his eyes closed as I try to remember how to breathe.

His eyes have darkened when he opens them, and as he pushes my curls over my shoulders, I sway towards him, imagining he’s going to kiss me again. Instead, he plants another soft kiss on the side of my mouth, and steps back, taking the warmth with him.

“Thank you, Bronwyn. I needed to hear that.”

Oh. He’s thanking me.I swallow a whimper, slowly blinking as I struggle to understand why he’s thanking me…was it what I said? Or, was it that kiss? Because if it was, I should be thanking him.

“Oh!” He softly exclaims, pulling back to reach into his pocket. My brows rise when he pulls a card out of his wallet and extends it to me as he explains, “Your bank card arrived. I forgot to give it to you.”

I frown, trying to figure out what to address first. “I don’t need a bank card. And, what just happened was a mis—”

“It’s a necessity, Winnie,” he smiles. “When we went to the bank to add you to the accounts I requested new cards. Look, it has your name on it.”

Taking the card from him, I notice it indeed has my name as it appears on my new passport. Bronwyn Sullivan Renard.

“While we’re married there are going to be necessary expenses, in case you purchase something for Dorie, or need things for the house. That way I don’t have to send you money every time you need something.”

Frowning, I look up at him. “I haven’t asked you for money.”

He raises a brow. “That’s why this is necessary. Cleaning supplies, laundry products—”

“Are all things I have to purchase anyway because it’s my apartment. I would need those things whether you’re there or not. You don’t even accept money for cooking ingredients!”

Dropping a hand on my knee, his eyes plead with me. “Winnie, I would be insulted if you don’t let me care for these things.”

I smirk and roll my eyes. I know when I’m being played. “Why don’t you just pay my half of the rent too, while you’re at it…”

He smirks as he leans in, his hair still mussed where I ran my hands through it a moment ago. “Some things should be saved for the honeymoon phase of a relationship, don’t you think?”

Um. What?

With a wink, he gets up, walking towards the bathroom. “Give me a moment and we can head out.”

But before the door closes, he sticks his head out. “You may be ready to discuss that kiss, Winnie, but at some point during this trip we will be talking about us.”

My stomach drops at the mention of the kiss, but he’s gone with a smirk, and as the door softly clicks shut, I continue staring in shock.

Oh, my cocoa…

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 28 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 30

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 27 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 29

As I step into the house, the sound of laughter fills the air.

“Hello? I’m home!” I call, nervously running a hand through my freshly cut hair. Did I stay away long enough? Did Bronwyn have enough time to figure out how to put her feelings away? Do I want her to?

Ignoring the questions that have plagued me all day, I stroll into the kitchen, setting the groceries and gift bags down, before following the sound of giggling to the great room.

Three of the sofas have been pushed together, and, erected between them is a massive pillow fort. It’s an impressive feat, and I wonder how Bronwyn managed it on her own.

Smiling, I cross to the entrance and stick my head inside. “What are we—”

“Papa! Get out!” My only daughter screeches in horror.

I immediately stumble backwards as I hear Bronwyn say, “Dorie, would you like to try that again?”

Doriane immediately complies. “I’m sorry, Papa. We need more time to be ready!”

“Oh, thank you Dorie. I was worried that I wouldn’t be allowed inside at all.”

Doriane giggles. “Silly, Papa. We made this for you!”

Then, whispering begins in earnest, as my brows rise. “Ok, I’ll put the groceries away. Do I have time to cook?”

“No need,” Bronwyn calls, before more whispering ensues.

Shaking my head, I return to the kitchen to put the food in the refrigerator.

I spent the day in a foul mood. And, I knew exactly why.

This morning had been big a surprise, but not in the way Bronwyn experienced it. It certainly wasn’t a surprise waking up as the little spoon. No. Bronwyn likes to cuddle.

Every night, I’ve fallen asleep facing the door, my hands tucked between my knees to make sure they don’t wander at night. Yet, I’ve awoken nearly every morning, still in the same position I fell asleep in, but with Bronwyn curled around me.

Rubbing my stomach was new…and while not entirely unwelcome, it was still unexpected. When she went to the toilet, I stepped into the sunny study to give myself a few minutes to calm my racing heart. I had every intention of going to the gym after I made sure she was alright.

After an aggressive snowball fight with my family last night, I was achy when I woke up. Adrien made sure of that when he had Doriane and our cousins children pile on top of me so he could shove snow down my jacket.

So, I did some stretches while I waited for Bronwyn to come out of the bathroom. When I thought she might be done, I stepped back into the bedroom to..to..

I close my eyes, shaking my head to clear the memory, and the stubborn flutters it’s plagued me with all day. I don’t know why I couldn’t turn around when she asked. But, I knew with great conviction that if I moved, it would be towards her, and that was very much not the direction we needed to go.

Yet, with the percentage of my certainty in that idea dropping by the second, all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe. Because the woman is beautiful..that goes without saying, but her eyes.

She panicked, but I had already seen it. The curiosity. The desire to know if it felt to me the way it felt to her.

When she wouldn’t let me apologize, I panicked. When she wouldn’t let me apologize, I panicked. And, after taking a moment in the toilet, I changed into my sports clothes and went down to the gym to find her on the treadmill.

Her sports clothes are still very modest, but now that I know every line and curve beneath, they did little to soothe my imagination.

So, I sat on the bench behind her for nearly forty minutes, working out while trying not to watch her—and failing—the entire time. She has such an upright form, I have no doubt she learned to run from her papa.

I may have lost count a couple of times as her feet punishingly pounded against the treadmill. But, then she finally stopped, turned around..and began watching me. Suddenly I was at a loss for words as sweat trickled over my brow.

Still, I kept counting…breathing and counting.

All while the woman trapped me in a staring contest, and teased me unmercifully. I was fine. Even when she dropped into an asian squat that made the back of my hamstrings burn.

Yet, she couldn’t leave well enough alone. As she dropped into a perfect side split, I worked to keep my mouth firmly shut, but when she rolled forward while still staring me down…my mouth dried out. So, after she sat up and put her fists on her hips…well, I snapped.

I just needed a moment of silence to think. I thought she was angry, but that wasn’t the behavior of an angry woman. She was teasing me, and I needed to know why.

When she finally began talking, slowly the pieces came together. And I could have kicked myself.

I know exactly what’s going on with my body, and what it means. I assume most people know what they’re feeling and why, yet Bronwyn is not most people.

That becomes apparent when she needs to speak about her feelings, because she rambles until she eventually lands on what the feeling is, even when she doesn’t understand it.

That’s what happened this morning, and that’s when I realized she isn’t just physically inexperienced. For every action between a couple, there are so many nuances, undercurrents, things that go unsaid that are normally picked up on, and many times never spoken about.

She’s picking up on those things very well, but her translator is broken. That’s why the signals her body was sending confused her.

Her mind hadn’t figured out why she was teasing me. Why she was flirting without saying a word. She didn’t know that our bodies were communicating before she jumped out of bed this morning.

In her mind, her body was doing something she didn’t given it permission to do. And, she thinks it’s something that she can control. My sweet dove.

So, I did as she asked. I left her to try to make it make sense, while I went to Genève, to figure out what I should do. Unlike her, I’m not confused. At least my body isn’t. I want her. I want all of her, but, that isn’t what either one of us signed up for..

Because while we’re married, I’m not under any delusion that we can casually give in to what we’re feeling without serious consequences.

What if it doesn’t work out, and she still wants a divorce? Will I still want her around Doriane and my family? What if I can’t give her the love she deserves?

I may be falling in love with her, but—

…Maybe? I’m falling in love with her.

I grip the countertop as I lean against it to steady my suddenly weak knees. Closing my eyes, I take a shaky breath. ZUT.

How did I let this happen? When did this happen? What am I going to do?

I shake my head, praying for an answer. When none comes, I wash my hands and begin slicing oranges, needing a distraction.

“Ok, Papa! We’re ready!”

“Coming, my loves,” I call out, sharply expelling a breath.

Ok. You’re going to stay cool. Just because these are your feelings, doesn’t mean they’re hers…ok, they could be hers, but until she knows for sure, I know nothing for sure. So, just behave normally. You can do this.

Picking up the plate of fruit, and the two gift bags, I walk towards the fort. “Knock knock,” I call.

“Who is it?” Bronwyn sings.

Despite the fluttering in my chest, I smile. “The big bad wolf.”

Coughing from Bronwyn, and giggles from Doriane.

“I don’t think we should let him in, Dorie. He says he’s bad.”

Doriane, my lovely voice of reason pipes in, “Yes, but what if he just thinks he’s bad, Gift Mama?”

“I’ve come bearing gifts,” I say.

“Exactly what a bad wolf would say, Dorie. Never believe wolves who say they’re bad. Always run away.”

“Even if it’s, Papa?” My sweet child asks.

A sigh, then. “Papa isn’t a wolf, so it’s ok if he says he’s bad. We’ll hope that he’s good.”

“Ok! Come in Papa! Uh, Mr. Big Bad Wolf Papa.”

I smirk, using an elbow to push back the sheet as I bend to walk into a surprisingly spacious, very well lit fort.

One of the small tables is set up with snacks and water, and in the middle of a mess of pillows and blankets, lay my two favorite girls in matching yellow, fuzzy sleep shirts and space buns.

My heart is beating overtime, taking it all in, because more than anything, this is what I’ve wanted for Doriane. It’s the kind of love and attention that she deserves, and the woman giving it to her is…my heart.

Dropping the bags in the corner, I slide the plate of oranges onto the already crowded table while I get my emotions under control.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?” I force a grin, pulling out my phone to take a picture.

Bronwyn throws an arm in front of Doriane, crying out, “Dorie! Ready the pillows in case we need to fight our way out!”

Doriane snatches up two pillows, holding them aloft. “Pillows ready!”

That forces a real laugh out of me as I put my phone back in my pocket, and hold up my hands in surrender. “I come in peace! Don’t hurt me!”

Bronwyn eyes me dubiously. “Do we believe him, Princess?”

Dorie pushes her glasses up her tiny nose. “There’s only one way to tell, Captain!”

“Captain?” I mouth, to which Bronwyn smirks and shrugs her shoulders.

“What do we do, Princess?” Bronwyn exclaims.

“We have to give him kisses to make sure! If he dies, then he’s bad. If he lives, he’s good.”

Bronwyn looks down at Princess Dorie with a raised brow. “Are you certain, Princess? What if we’re wrong?”

“It’s the only way!” Dorie cries.

“As you wish, Princess!”

Then, hooking a leg around mine, Bronwyn executes a perfect sweep, dropping me to my knees in the pile of pillows in front of them as she cries, “Attack!”

I scream in sheer..delight..but it’s made to sound like horror, as I’m covered in sloppy, and disturbingly sticky kisses from Doriane, and very warm, and too few kisses from Bronwyn. When I clutch my chest and ‘pass out,’ they both begin laughing hysterically.

Bronwyn says, ‘oh no, Princess,’ it looks like we’re wrong! What should we do?”

“You have to give him the antidote!”

“What’s that, Princess?”

“The kiss of true love!”

Silence. “Maybe we don’t need him.”

“No!” My daughter cries. “We need him! We’ll starve if he dies!”

Smothered laughter. “You have a point, Princess. Ok! Prepare, true love’s kiss! Hurry!”

Rustling, then, “Here it is! Hurry, time is running out!”

I feel Bronwyn edge closer, and I try to keep a straight face as I feel her warmth. Then..the softest brush on my mouth. I part my lips and..chocolate?

My eyes fly open to see Bronwyn fighting back laughter as Doriane shouts. “Yeah! It worked! It worked!”

I sit up chewing on…a florentine. I laugh, as Doriane throws her arms around my neck. “Welcome back, Papa! We’re so happy you’re alive!”

I lick a smudge of chocolate from my lips as I glance at a blushing Bronwyn. “Me, too.”

Turning to Doriane, I ask, “Did you have fun with Gift Mama, today?”

As she regales me with the tale of their journey to her Gigi’s house, Bronwyn crawls over to the the table and begins fixing a bowl of soup. I recognize it as Mama’s Coq Au Vin, and gratefully take the bowl while I learn of something very interesting indeed.

“You looked at pictures of me? But, you didn’t look at a lot of pictures.” I smile, looking at Bronwyn as my informant goes on.

“No, Papa, we saw allll your pictures, and Gift Mama said y—”

“Your Papa wants to know about the cookies. Didn’t you help Gigi?”

“No, Papa definitely wants to know what Gift Mama said,” I smirk, taking a sip of stew.

Doriane sighs. “Who’s telling the story?”

Bronwyn and I both sit back, chastened. “You.”

“Ok!” Doriane huffs. “So. I helped Gigi sweep, then we looked at pictures. And, Gift Mama said you were go—gous.”

Bronwyn slaps a palm to her face. “Gorgeous. The word is gorgeous, Dorie.”

“That’s what I said!” Dorie frowns.

“You said, go- never mind. The word is gorgeous,” I interject, secretly thrilled that Bronwyn thinks so.

“Papa, what does gorgeous mean?”

I hum, looking at my brilliant daughter. “We should ask Gift Mama since she used the word.”

We both turn to look at Bronwyn, who’s trying to hide under a pile of blankets. Reaching over, I pull off a blanket. “Gift Mama, what does gorgeous mean?”

Bronwyn shoots daggers at me, but she smiles when she looks at Doriane. “It means someone is very beautiful, and that you really like the way they look.”

“Oh,” Doriane’s sweet brown eyes light up. “You’re gorgeous, Gift Mama! Right, Papa?”

I chuckle, “Gift Mama is gorgeous and captivating, and a lot of other words that mean the same thing.”

“Like John Kim. He’s gorgeous.”

I turn all the way around to look at the little blonde girl who has replaced my daughter. “Who is John Kim?”

Her lashes flutter as a dreamy smile crosses her face. “He’s in my class. He has freckles and he eats Kim chee every day. It stinks so no eats with him, but I do.”

My eyes narrow. “And, why do you eat with him? You already said his kimchi stinks.”

I hear Bronwyn smothering a laugh behind me, but I don’t care. This needs to be investigated.

“Papa, it stinks but it tastes good!”

“You’re sharing this boy’s kimchi?”

“His name is John Kim.”

“Ok, you’re sharing John Kim’s kimchi?”

“Yes. I like it!”

“Stop eating his kimchi. I will make you kimchi, even better than his. You don’t need his food.”

Doriane frowns at me like I’m sick, while Bronwyn struggles to breathe through her choked laughter. “Um, what Papa means is, you don’t want to share and get his germs. Now if you have something you want to share with John Kim, you can—”

“Never share anything with John Kim. Do you understand, Doriane?” I know it sounds unreasonable, but this is how it starts.

“But, what if we want to play together and he wants to share!”

“Don’t even think about play—”

When Bronwyn pokes me in the side, I take a deep breath. She’s right. I’m overreacting, and now, Doriane’s eyes are filling with tears.

“But John Kim is my friend. And he’s the most go-gous boy. And, I like his Kim chee!”

She begins wailing as I pull her into my lap. “I’m sorry, Doriane. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you like his kimchi, but boys are disgusting. You don’t know where his kimchi has been!”

She begins sniffling. “But, Papa! John Kim likes me! Every day, he only plays with me. He’ll be sad!”

My brows rise. Seriously? This little boy already has my little girl crying over him? Wait until I see this John Kim..

Bronwyn rests a hand on my arm as she uses the other to wipe the tears from Doriane’s face. “I’m sorry what Papa has said made you sad, Dorie. Do you want to talk about it now?”

Doriane nods and Bronwyn continues. “Papa has met a lot of little boys, so he can only remember what they were like. But he doesn’t know John Kim, right? He’s probably a very nice boy, but Papa is very nervous that he might not be. Maybe Papa should meet him.”

I slowly turn to look at Bronwyn. I’d rather base jump without a parachute.

She nods towards Doriane who looks up at me with large, hopeful eyes. “Ok,” I acknowledge. “I’m sorry, Dorie. Yes. I must meet John Kim first. That should always happen before any kimchi sharing, and certainly before playing.”

Doriane nods solemnly. “Ok.”

Bronwyn pulls Doriane into her lap for cuddles. “Ok, now Papa is going to change. He’s not in the right clothes for a slumber party, and we don’t want him to be grouchy.”

So, after being kicked out, I return to the dimly lit great room more appropriately dressed in a pair of lounge pants and a grey thermal. As I approach the glowing sheets of the pillow fort, I smile when I hear Bronwyn’s storytelling voice.

However, the smile quickly falls when I hear Doriane ask, “But, does the Prince like the Princess?”

“Yes,” Bronwyn chuckles. “He likes that the Princess is funny and helpful—”

“Ah,” I interrupt as I step inside, unwilling to let this go on. Doriane doesn’t need any more ideas in her head about John Kim.

“Is it possible for you to tell a story without a prince in it? I don’t want our daughter growing up believing she needs a man to come and rescue her. If she meets a man, he will stand equal with her and support her as she supports him as well.”

Crawling to the only vacant space beside Bronwyn, I lean back against a stack of pillows and fold my hands behind my head.

As Doriane looks at me wide eyed, Bronwyn shoots me a placating smile. “You’re right. I can definitely tell a story without a prince.”

“Thank you,” I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Once upon a time there was a frog—”

I jolt up. “No! This is the same thing! Not all men can be princes. You can’t just, mwah, and suddenly they’re a prince.”

Doriane and Bronwyn look at each and begin giggling, but Bronwyn purses her lips as she begins nodding. “You’re right, Papa. Of course, you’re right.” She folds a hand under her chin, shooting me a look of pity. “Sometimes, they’re just frogs…ribbit. Riibbiitt.”

Doriane laughs, as I scoff and begin tickling Bronwyn, but when a pillow is thrown, we’re somehow in the middle of a pillow fight that nearly costs us the fort. We finally call a draw when Adrien sticks his head inside, grinning from ear to ear as he waves a kitchen towel.

“I’m just delivering the baguettes you requested,” he says, dropping the bread on the table with a knife.

“Thanks. Join us?” I ask. But he shakes his head, eyeing us. “No, thanks. I’m going out tonight.”

I raise my brows, but I offer him a nod, telling him to have a good time. When he winks and disappears, I turn back to my little gang. “How about a bite to eat?”

Which is how we came to be feasting on Mama’s soup and baguette, as my wife and daughter sang along to a circus movie. After enjoying the snacks, and making sure Doriane brushed her teeth, it was story time.

As Doriane laughed and begged for more, I acted out the parts with shadow puppets as Bronwyn played the piano through an app on her phone. And, when Doriane curled up on my chest, sleepily asking Bronwyn to sing to her, I felt a warmth that I never had before. This is what a family should be.

When Bronwyn snuggled beside me and began playing the first notes of Stay Awake, Doriane’s eyes began drifting closed. By the time the last note was sung, our little girl was fast asleep.

Looking down at Bronwyn, I smile softly as I whisper. “You must have slipped something in her soup. She never falls asleep this fast.”

She chuckles. “Do you plan to let her sleep here?”

“No. When the fire goes out, it can get chilly in here.”

Bronwyn hums, her dark eyes trained on my face when she abruptly lifts a hand and brushes it through my hair. “You cut it. It’s the same length it was when you first came to New York.”

I raise a hand to thread my fingers through my medium length waves. “Yes. It was getting too long, so when I went to Genève earlier, I stopped for a cut. Do you like it?”

Bronwyn nods. “But, I like your hair, however you wear it.”

I smile at the admission, and I’m surprised when Bronwyn rests against my shoulder. She begins to play a few soft lullabies on her piano app, some I recognize, some I don’t, and always with her little flare. And, something deep within me slides into place, like a lock that finally found the right key.

It’s in that quiet moment it becomes indisputable that I’m hopelessly in love with my wife.

So, now what do I do?

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 27 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 29

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 26 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 28

After Michel left, I cleaned up the kitchen and checked the time on the little white cat clock above the kitchen sink. 9:28am.

That left plenty of time before lunch. Determined to put the craziness of this morning behind me, I took Doriane upstairs to play in her toy loft. After a tea party, a doll fashion show, and eating at the world’s tiniest restaurant, I checked the time. 9:56am.

Feeling restless after setting Doriane up with a StarBear movie, I scrunched and diffused my curls while singing along with her. When the movie went off, I checked the time. 10:36am.

The movie was 70 minutes long! How is that possible?

After throwing a fluffy turtleneck sweater over a pair of jeans, and putting on a bit of mascara and chapstick, I brought Doriane downstairs so that she could get changed. Once she was dressed in her favorite yellow sweater and overalls, we bundled up as warmly as we could, and crunched our way through the fresh snow on the path to Mama and Papa’s house.

The sweeping views of the valley, with chimneys puffing smoke out of snow-covered rooftops and the near frozen river glistening below us, never fails to take my breath away. As we puffed along, laughing as we tossed snowballs at each other along the way, something eased in me.

Maybe it was the stillness of the cold air, or the warmth of the sunshine on my face, but in that cozy moment, I wondered what it would look like in Spring. Would I get a chance to find out?

Until today, I’d only visited Mama and Papa with Michel, but on several occasions Mama has begged me not to wait on him to come over. Armed with the perfect opportunity to oblige, I knocked on the door as Doriane pushed snow off the railing.

I didn’t call first, because I didn’t want them to feel bad if they were going to be out. And, if they were busy they could always send us away.

With anyone else I might have worried about being an imposition, but not so with his parents. Let’s just say, Michel got his eye watering bluntness from his Mama. I didn’t doubt she would tell me if I crossed a line. So, I smiled hesitantly when she opened the door, wide-eyed.

“Doriane, Winnie..what’s wrong?”

“We just thought we’d see if you wanted a visit today, but if it’s a bad time, we can—”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, a smile lighting her grey eyes as she gave us kisses. “Come inside! I’m so glad you both came to visit!”

As we stepped into the vestibule, the smell of chocolate and toasted nuts hit me, and I immediately smiled. “That’s what I would call a million dollar scent! It smells so good in here!”

“What are you making, Gigi?” Doriane asked, tugging at her coat.

AAs I knelt to help her out of it, Mama chuckled as she swiped a hand across her flour-dusted blue and white apron. “I’m making your Papa’s favorite. Florentine cookies.”

“Oooh, you hear that, Dorie? It sounds like we’re right on time to help,” I said, shedding my own coat. “What are Florentines?”

Hanging the coats on the hooks, we stepped into the warm house where our senses were overwhelmed with the scent of sugar.

“Come, I’ll show you,” Mama smiled, leading us to the kitchen.

Every surface was covered in either pans of toasted almonds and hazelnuts, bowls of dried fruit or melted chocolate, and paper lined trays with small cookies in various stages of completion.

“It looks like a bomb went off in here,” Doriane snorted, scanning the kitchen with wide eyes.

“Dorie!” I exclaimed, but Mama laughed.

“I’m afraid she inherited my honesty,” she shrugged. “No use trying to curb it. All you can do is try to get her to use it kindly.”

Turning to Doriane, she tilted her head. “Would you like to say that another way?”

I looked on in amazement as Doriane ducked her head abashedly. “Gigi, it’s messy in here. Can I help you clean?”

“That’s my precious girl!” Mama smiled, wrapping her arms around Doriane. “Yes, please. Do you want to close up all the containers for me?”

After Doriane washed her hands, she set about closing containers. “What can I do to help?” I asked.

Mama pointed to a batch of lacy brown clusters that were already dipped in chocolate. “Some have almonds and some have hazelnuts, but there’s also cranberries, a bit of orange and caramel. After it bakes, I dip it in chocolate. Here. Taste one and tell me what you think.”

Lifting one of the delicate treats, I took a careful bite, then groaned as the nutty sweetness hit my tongue. “Soo good.”

Covering my mouth, my eyes widened as I realized I was loud, but Mama giggled, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me like it does my son. Maybe if he could keep his eyes off of you it wouldn’t bother him so much either.”

I flushed, but I didn’t know how to respond to that. Clearly, she was seeing what Michel wanted her to see.

“I think that’s just one of the ways I annoy him. We each have our thing. I’m learning to curb it.”

Mama laughed as she scooped cookies onto a parchment lined platter. “Why curb it when you can enjoy it?”

A bubble of surprised laughter erupted from me as I looked at her in shock.

“He’s my own son,” she giggled, “but I’ll tell you. Annoyance is the last thing on his mind when he looks at you. It’s like he’s jealous of the food that goes into your mouth!”

I choked on my cookie as she cracked herself up, and I couldn’t help joining in. It was pretty funny when I thought about it, and I couldn’t wait to tell him that the next time it comes up.

Upon washing my hands, I was set to work, dipping the cookies, as Doriane tired herself out sweeping the floor. And, after having a delicious bowl of chicken stew, Doriane fell asleep on one of the dark blue sofas in the great room.

When she asked why I speak French so well, I told her about Julia while we finished up the cookies. She smiled upon learning Julia was from Chambéry, saying it wasn’t far from Annecy, and it explained why I spoke with their regional accent.

With the last batch of florentines out of the oven, Mama sat at a little table just inside the kitchen, and sipped at her cup. “Come have your tea, darling.”

“I will,” I smiled. “I only have five cookies left.”

After getting them dipped and setting them to cool on the rack, I made my way to the table as Mama poured a fresh cup of tea.

“Honey?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said, glancing around her bright, pale blue and yellow kitchen. “You have such a cozy home. Thank you for having us.”

“Pfft,” she waved her hand. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy you came. I didn’t think you would.”

I nodded, a bit disappointed that I had already messed up. “Sorry, I know I’m not a very social person, I’ve been told that a lot growing up.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t know who told you this, but I disagree. You’re wonderful!”

“You’re in the very small minority of people who seem to think so,” I chuckled. “But, it’s ok. I’ve learned to accept it.”

Sitting down her cup of tea, she took my hand in hers and looked at me earnestly, her sharp eyes reminiscent of Michel’s.

“Darling, have you ever heard the illustration likening people to vowels?”

I shook my head, not knowing what direction she was going in.

Giving my hand a pat, she sat back. “There are plenty of vowels that take up space. Think about their lowercase shapes. An ‘e’, and ‘u’ are more open, while an ‘a’ and ‘o’ are closed off. However an ‘i’ will always stand up alone. Seeming to hold up the world, it reaches for no other letters, and takes up the least amount of space.

Yet, not one vowel is less important than the other. No matter how big or small it seems, all vowels are necessary for speech, to move people—even nations forward. You, Bronwyn, are uniquely you. We don’t wish you to be anyone else. We love you as you are, and we’re glad you’re now part of our family.”

“Wow.” I cleared my throat, blinking back tears, unexpectedly touched. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

She smiled as she considered me a moment, then nodded. “Besides, I wasn’t speaking of your personality earlier. I thought you wouldn’t come because you and Michou fought.”

The tea I was sipping stilled in my mouth as I glanced up at her. She’s tall. Not as tall as Michel, but a few inches taller, than me and I felt every one of them as she gazed at me.

As she folded long fingers together in front of her mouth, I swallowed the tea and sat my cup down, briefly at a loss for words.

“We didn’t fi—we never fight,” I managed to get out.

Mama smirked. “Hm..You had a discussion then—and, there’s no use denying it. I saw his face this morning. He looked like a lost puppy.”

My brow wrinkled as I sighed. “We did. We’re always in discussions. It’s Michel’s favorite thing to do.”

She hummed, nodding emphatically. “I spent a lot of time hiding from him when he was a child.”

I laughed at the abrupt admission. “I completely get why you would want to.”

“No! I did!” Mama exclaimed, with a scowl. “Everything was ‘why?’ And ‘I don’t understand. What are you saying?’”

I laughed so hard, tears streamed from my eyes. “So, he’s always been this way.”

“Always, darling,” she chuckled. “But, it comes from his need to understand. To make things make sense. It’s what made him a good policeman, it’s what makes him a good lawyer and father. It’s what will make him an excellent husband in time.”

Sighing, I pursed my lips as I considered her words. “What if we don’t have time,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I realized I’d spoken.

She tilted her head. “What an odd thing for a newlywed to say.”

I blushed, ducking my head while mentally kicking myself. “Some things burn brightly and fizzle out no matter how much you want it to last forever.”

When she remained silent, I snuck a glance to discover her looking at me knowingly.

“Be patient with him, darling. He’s someone who’s willing to do the work and put in the time for someone he loves. Just don’t give up on him.”

But, that’s just it, isn’t it? I’m confident we love each other as friends, but the kind of love she means?

I frowned, trying to figure out what I was thinking. “I’m not going to run away from him. But..what if he eventually runs away from me? What if we end up being too different, or I offend him somehow?”

She looked at me like another head just emerged from my neck. When she waved me closer, I leaned forward, wondering what she was going to say. She quickly reached over and gently flicked my forehead.

“Ah!” I exclaimed, clapping a hand to my head. It didn’t hurt, but it was more the shock of it. “Mama! Why?”

Cackling like crazy, she leaned over, whispering. “Fine. Let me tell you a secret.”

I leaned closer, and she flicked me again.

“Mama! Please!” I cried out, holding my forehead, completely bewildered.

“Why did you come closer?” She giggled.

“You asked me to!” I grumbled, still rubbing my forehead.

Her eyes sparkled. “Alright, but why the second time? After I already flicked you?”

“I don’t know..” I frowned. “Because you asked.”

“Because you trusted me,” she firmly stated.

“I’m not sure how long that’s going to last,” I grumbled, to which she laughed hysterically. I begrudgingly smiled. She’s cute, even if she and her son are nuts.

“Aw, I’m sorry my darling, but I had a point,” she explained, reaching out to clasp both of my hands. “Even after I offended you, you wanted to believe I had good intentions, that I had a reason. You trusted that I would make up for what I did. But, what do you know of me?”

Skeptically looking at her with my brow arched, I shook my head. “You know, I’m wondering the same thing myself, Mama.”

She let out a short bark of laughter before lowering her voice. “My point is this. You didn’t leave, you tried to figure out what was going on. Your desire to figure it out, outweighed your anger, and even your pride. And, that’s simply because of your desire to understand me, because I’m your husband’s mother.

So, why would your husband give up trying to understand you, when you’re the closest person to him? You’re no stranger. He gave you his name, he shared his whole world with you. In what way could you possibly offend him that he won’t seek to understand you? And, in what world does Michou’s curiosity find an end?”

I stared back at her as she smiled, and I knew she was right. If Michel loved me, there’s nothing that would make him leave. He’d cling until the end, even when the situation is beyond hope.

He only changed jobs because he wanted to protect his family. He didn’t leave Ivette until he was long past the shadow of a doubt that their marriage couldn’t be saved, and even then he wanted to protect Doriane.

He’ll do anything for those he loves. Yet, he doesn’t love me that way. We’re friends, even if my heart is stuck in a perpetual state of yearning.

But, is that what I want? For him to love me that completely?

She chuckled. “You, my dear, worry about things that have not happened before they happen. If you spend so much time preparing for the worst, you will miss the moments that can spare you from what you fear the most.”

Shaking my head, I squinted at her. “I know you just said something groundbreaking, but it went right over my head.”

She merely winked. “Think about it. And, when Michel gets home, tell him his Mama flicked you in the forehead and make him kiss it better.”

I blinked until she started laughing wickedly. “Mama!”

We spent another hour laughing and talking over pictures of Michel as an adorable boy, a cute teenager, and then..a gorgeous man. I mean, just eye-wateringly beautiful.

My heart ached for the youthful man who didn’t know the pain and bitterness ahead of him. Ivette may have taken more from him than she left behind, but his real triumph is that something of himself was still there. A foundation he could rebuild on.

During this trip, I’ve seen flashes of that version of him. The effusive joy and playfulness, that occasionally bubbled to the surface in New York, seems to spill out of him here.

I hope he’s able to hang onto that. And, while I’m in his life, I’ll do everything I can to make sure he has room for it to grow.

Doriane got a real kick out of seeing her Papa at her age, and I now own a small collection of pictures, gifted to me before we got up to leave. When I thanked Mama for everything, she handed me a large thermos and a parcel of cookies, as she told me not to share with Adrien because he’d have to get his own.

Laughing, we said our goodbyes before Doriane and I tromped back across the snowy path to our house. It was nearly four, and the sun would soon be setting.

Doriane wanted to have a picnic, but after convincing her it was too cold and that I had a better idea, we giggled as we threw ourselves into setting everything up in the great room.

Nothing was resolved. Everything was still up in the air with Michel, with my family, with work.

In that moment it was ok, because I was right where I wanted to be. Yet, as Doriane and I changed clothes, the same question repeatedly pinged through my mind.

How would I convince my heart that was enough?

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 26 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 28

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 25 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 27

After another weekend spent laughing, eating, and playing games with the Renards, I’m exhausted by Monday. After the snowball fight yesterday, I wake up aching from head to toe. I fully expect Michel to be gone, only I’m pressed against his warm back, with an arm and leg wrapped around him.

Immediately lifting my leg off of him, I draw my arm back, only for him to tuck it back under his arm, and rest my hand on his stomach. If he wasn’t still softly snoring, I’d think he was playing.

Usually, by the time I wake up, he’s already coming back from his workout in his small basement gym. While he showers, I head to the gym to get on the treadmill, then we pass each other as he goes to make breakfast and I jump in the shower.

That’s how it’s been since our arrival 10 days ago. So, seeing him still asleep, as the misty sunlight begins to peek through the curtains makes me wonder if he’s sick.

“Michou?” I whisper, leaning close to his ear. I know from experience that he doesn’t respond to Michel when he’s asleep, and despite his insistence that he’s a light sleeper, it’s nearly impossible to wake him unless I touch him.

“Miiichooouu, wake up, darling,” I pat his tummy, trying not to let my fingers linger on the defined ridges. Look, but don’t touch, frequently repeats in my mind, although, he breaks his own rules whenever he feels like it. Unbidden, my mind races back to his kisses last week.

I can understand the kiss at his parent’s house. I knew going in to expect it. But, knowing, and experiencing are two very different things.

I don’t think his lips are legal, and I’m afraid I’ll never know why he tastes like chocolate and mint. I completely lost my senses, and if he hadn’t broken it off, I’d probably still be rolling my fingers through his hair.

Fine. I recovered. Remarkably even, considering my lips never stopped buzzing, and I still sang along with everyone for the rest of the night on a sugar high that had nothing to do with Mama’s cake.

But, when we were enjoying a buttery raclette at the market a couple of days later, the golden bubbling cheese coating my bread as I’d only read about before, the man abruptly grabbed my hand and tugged me along behind him. He had almost looked angry, his eyes darting from side to side until he found a quiet space between two stalls.

I thought I’d offended him somehow, never imagining I had committed some social faux pas and he was at wits end. When he pulled me against the wall, I thought he was about to lecture me to death. I nearly passed out when he looked at me with those stormy eyes seconds before his lips crashed into mine.

I’m still not sure what he said after, I was too busy looking at his mouth when he kissed me again. Deeper, gentler, but no less urgently. Only for him to release me, and insist—what? That I stop enjoying my food around anyone but him? Or, more specifically, stop making my appreciation known loud and clear around anyone but him?

The nerve of the man…but, I believe him. He’s crazy enough to kiss me if I get beside myself with joy, which is why I’ve been relearning how to eat in public.

I chuckle. It would be laughable if it weren’t so annoying. Still…as punishments go…that is certainly not my least favorite thing to ever happen. How many times have I had to convince myself not to test him whenever the mood strikes? And, it has struck often.

I’m so deep in my thoughts, I don’t realize my pats have turned into petting as I rub his stomach, until he grunts. “Winnie..”

My hand freezes mid pat, my brain melting along with the rest of my insides at the sound of his gravelly voice. “Mmhm?”

He takes a deep breath and his voice is all rocks and silk as he grumbles, “As much I don’t mind being the little spoon, I don’t think either of us is ready to see where this road leads.”

I have never snatched my hand back faster as my words tumble out one on top of the other. “You wouldn’t let my arm go, and I was afraid you were sick, but since you’re awake I’ll just assume you’re fine and I’m going to the bathroom now.”

Bolting to the bathroom, I lock the door as I collapse against the sink, my heart beating a mile a minute. What was that?

After using the facilities and giving myself a stern lecture in the mirror about the importance of look, don’t touch, I step out of the bathroom, into an empty bedroom. The bed is already made up, so assuming Michel has gone to the gym, I pull out my running tights and a sports bra, and strip off my pajamas to change.

But, as I’m pulling my tights up, I hear the door to the balcony/study slide open, followed by a loud, “Zut!”

My blood runs cold as I look up into the slightly less horrified eyes of my husband. I blink. He blinks. His eyes dart down and..linger, before snapping back to mine.

“Turn around!” I shout, my face flushing as I begin jumping in an attempt to pull my tights up over my knees.

However, Michel is glued to the spot. His eyes slam shut, his chest heaving as I grab my sports bra and high tail it into the bathroom.

“Are you normally in the habit of changing in the bedroom?” He demands through the closed door moments later.

“I thought you left for the gym!” I hiss. “And, I don’t think you’re setting the right tone here. Why didn’t you turn around?” I snip as I tug off my camisole and pull on the sports bra.

“I…” his voice trails off, and when I yank the door open, he looks down at me, his eyes full of apology, and also..an energy.

It’s very much giving Big Bad Wolf, and I’m one of Bo Peep’s lost sheep.

“Not an answer,” I grit out as I push past him. Reaching for my tank top, I pull it on and untie my bonnet, leaving my scarf on.

“I’m sorry, Winnie. I..couldn’t…” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Walking up to him, I poke him in his bare chest, which is warmer than it was earlier. “If this is part of your look, don’t touch program, I want no parts of it. Unsubscribe! You hear me?”

He silently gazes at me, and I can’t explain why it feels like he’s saying something. Nor can I explain why I’m angry, but I want to kiss him.

Not waiting for a response, I swipe my phone and earbuds from the charger on the nightstand, and storm to the door.

“Winnie!” He calls, but I’m already gone.

45 minutes. That’s how long I spend pounding away on the treadmill while blaring songs about bad blood and slashing tires. That’s how long it took me to realize I wasn’t angry.

Annoyed? Certainly. Confused? Yes.

Overstimulated? Unfortunately…

And, that’s the real problem isn’t? All of these feelings, with their emotional and physical reactions..they have nowhere to go.

Michel has said it often and loud enough for me to get it. He doesn’t want me. Not in that way. So why does my body keep getting so confused? Why am I confused, hot and unnecessarily bothered?

I groan, slowing to a walk until I stop the treadmill. I nearly leap out of my skin when I turn around to see his truly seated on the weight bench behind me, doing overhead shoulder presses. He’s got an adjustable dumbbell in each hand with a lot of weight on it judging from the way his lips are moving with every lift.

I pull out my earbuds as he grunts. Bending to retrieve my water bottle, I lean on the treadmill as I take a long drink, while he continues grunting through his reps. His damp hair is pulled into a knot, and as sweat beads his brow, he pauses, sitting the dumb bells in the rack, before adjusting the weight on it.

Dialing it down from 70 to 60, he picks the weights up again, and raising a brow as he stares at me, he begins his reps again.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he continues, and now, I’m locked in a staring contest with a grunting Neanderthal.

“Is this how you and Ben started your staring contests,” I smirk.

No response.

“Were you gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes at the gym one day, and realized you could take the show on the road?”

Grunts. His heated gaze follows me as I cross the small gym to stand in front of him.

“Ah, so you aren’t just staring into space,” I smirk looking down at him.

More grunts as beads of sweat run down his forehead.

“So, what do you think about while pressing all that weight?”

He drops the weights to the cement floor, shakes his arms out, and after adjusting down to 50, he lifts them up again and repeats the process.

Dropping into an asian squat, I rock back and forth to stretch my muscles as his eyes follow me. “You might be able to lift hundreds of pounds, but how flexible are you?”

His lip curls, but he doesn’t smile as he continues grunting through his set.

I stretch out a leg in each direction, dropping into a split against the cool floor. “Can you do this?” I ask. I know I’m being silly. But there’s something about this huge guy, grunting away with his giant dumbbells that’s very entertaining.

I roll forward until both elbows hit the floor, and I rest my chin in my hands. “What about this?” I ask.

He silently stares down at me as he breathes through his reps.

I roll back into my sitting split, and put my fists on my hips. “Well, what exactly are all those muscles for if you can’t do anything with them?” I huff.

In one fell swoop, he drops the dumbbells in the rack, and grabbing me by the hips, he lifts me straight in the air.

“Michel!” I gasp.

“Are you going to keep teasing me, Winnie?” He says gruffly.

I’m breathless from how fast he moved, and also..from dangling above him mid air, but I fold my arms anyway as I glare down at him.

“There you go again, ignoring your own rules. What happened to look, but don’t touch?”

His eyes darken, the blue grey irises barely visible around his dilated pupils, as he lowers me to his chest. Tucking an arm behind my knees, he doesn’t put me down. I’m really not that small!

Yet, the ground looks awfully far from up here. I expel a breath of air as I scowl at him, bothered that I’m so unbothered by being held like a toddler. Instead, I try to ignore the turbulence in my chest as his lips quirk up.

“You’re doing plenty of looking, Winnie, so I assumed you were unsubscribing from the don’t touch part.”

“Put me down,” I grit out, fighting the urge to squirm.

He slowly lowers his arm until we’re eye level. “You wanted to know what the muscles are for..well, now you know. I can do this all day, but I’d rather put you down after we talk. So, talk to me. Are you upset that I saw you in a state of undress this morning? Or, are you upset I wasn’t able to look away at your request?”

His eyes are gently pleading with me to talk to him, but my nostrils flare as I roll my lips inward. “It’s fine,” I grumble.

“In French, dove,” he gently prompts.

We’ve slipped in and out of French so frequently, especially when we’re around his family, that I bar ely notice unless he points it out. My eyes narrow on his face and he stares back…waiting. I sharply expel a breath.

“Fiiine!” I snap. “I don’t understand why this keeps happening. Most days I feel like I’m fine, and then something happens, like today, and I’m not fine. At first I thought I was angry, because you didn’t look away when I asked you to look away, but then I realized you definitely saw more than that when we were sick that time, so it was ridiculous to be angry about that, and in fact I wasn’t angry, but the fact you didn’t listen when I asked was annoying, but mostly, I was annoyed with the way you looked at me, and then I realized I wasn’t upset by it, but..I liked it, and then I realized I liked it too much.”

Michel’s eyes flare as he tries to absorb the deluge of words pouring out of me. My cheeks ache with the heat of embarrassment, but as usual, once he gets me started, I can’t stop.

“And that can’t go on. I won’t survive this year, if this keeps happening, so then I was angry all over again, but at myself. And, now I’m annoyed that you’re holding me captive over something as silly as me trying to cope with not understanding the way I imagined things felt and seem in books and movies, when it feels soo different in person, and I’m not supposed to be going through this at all.”

Michel’s eyes never leave my face and, when I finally exhale after my long explanation, he sharply nods. “So, your attraction has become worse, and I’m not helping.”

I roll my eyes. “It might help if we kept our lips to ourselves. It’s too confusing. I know we’re doing it for show, but in the moment it doesn’t feel like it’s for show. It feels real. I think my body is confused. I think I’m confused by the feelings. I just need a break.”

He blinks at me slowly. “A break from what, Winnie?”

I stare back at him, my mind whirling in a hundred directions. “I need a break from my body..no..from my feelings?”

“So..” He audibly swallows. “Not a break from me, then?”

My eyes widen. “Oh, goodness, no! Not you! This isn’t your fault. It’s mine! I’m the one who’s struggling to regulate feelings and emotions and this,” I say, waving a hand at my body. “I knew there would be a ton of PDA in my mind. I’m just struggling with what it feels like. And separating the reality in my body from what I know to be fact.”

He purses his lips as he quietly considers me. “So, let’s cut out the PDA. Then, you’ll be ok, right?”

I slap a hand to my forehead as I shake my head. “If we went from 100 to 2, I think your family might think we’re fighting. And that’s not even the point.”

Michel’s brow wrinkles, and he shifts me to his other forearm. “Then, what is the point, dove?”

“The point is that I need to learn to regulate what’s going on inside. If I can just have a breather from the touches and looks today, I think I’ll be better by this evening. I just need our friendship to come out of this trip intact, and today, I think it took a beating.”

“Ok, Winnie,” he sighs. “I understand. I’ll go into town today, and when I come back this evening, I’ll make dinner. Or, do you prefer I bring home takeout and eat in my room?”

“I’ll always take your food over takeout, unless you don’t feel like cooking. And, you aren’t being punished. Why would you eat alone?”

He smiles faintly. “Ok, should I take Doriane with me?”

My mouth drops in disbelief. “You would take my only solace in all of this?”

He chuckles as he finally sets me down. “Ok, I’ll take the moto to borrow Papa’s truck. The roads should be clear, but better to be safe. Let me know if you need anything while I’m gone.”

“Ok, thanks,” I say, bending to pick up my water bottle.

“I really am sorry about earlier, Winnie. I guess..you aren’t the only one struggling to put feelings where they belong.”

When I spin around, Michel looks so sorrowful, I’m immediately overwhelmed with..I don’t know what..more feelings, I guess. I lunge forward and wrap my arms around him. “Thank you, Michel. For being understanding. And, don’t worry…I still love you. We’re still friends, ok?”

I look up at him pleadingly as he silently gazes at me. And, though there are so many thoughts hidden behind his eyes, when he nods, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Reaching up, I give his face a few pats. “That’s a good, Captain.”

Then, turning I sail out of the room, feeling lighter already.

After showering and conditioning my hair, I twist my curls into two high buns, throw on my long hooded sweater dress with a pair of socks and head downstairs to get breakfast set up. Since I’m the one cooking, it’s pancakes and bacon. When Doriane wanders out of her room in her rainbow footsy pajamas, I bend to give her a kiss, and have her wash up.

She returns ten minutes later, and after helping her up on the barstool at the island, I fix her plate as her father wanders into the room. He’s tucked a fitted, caramel knit button down sweater into a pair of dark slacks. His hair is still in a knot, and he’s carrying his brown leather combat boots, which he tosses into the vestibule. I’m immediately jealous of everyone who gets to see him today.

See..these are the kind of ideas I don’t need. Also unfortunate, is the fact my self awareness doesn’t stop my mouth from watering when his sweet, and slightly spicy leather scent hits me.

“Good Morning, little koala,” he smiles, dropping a kiss on Doriane’s forehead. “Did you sleep well?”

As she regales us with a very on brand princess dream, he winks as he pours himself a cup of coffee and stands behind me. Every now and then, his hand snakes around me to steal a piece of bacon, or a pancake as he asks the wildest questions.

“I understand he kissed her to wake her up, but, did the prince paint the princess’ toenails first? When did he get to know her?”

And, “What if she was pretending to be asleep, because she was ignoring the prince? But, how did he know she was really asleep if he didn’t blow in her face?”

That one got a chuckle out of me. When he finished, he took our plates, cleaned up the dishes, then, after dropping a kiss on her forehead, and a slightly awkward kiss on mine, he was gone in a cloud of sweet leathery goodness.

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 25 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 27

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 24 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 26

The weekend flies by, and on Sunday morning, I took my favorite girls out to enjoy the market in Annecy.

Of course, Adrien tagged along, grumbling about being a chauffeur and a fourth wheel. He eventually decided he was only there to spend the day with his niece. I could only worry about the amount of sugar he was sneaking Doriane, as Bronwyn and I slipped in and out of shops.

I simply couldn’t get enough of Bronwyn’s reaction to everything, from the river that flows through town to the architecture, and of course our beautiful lake. What’s worse, I quickly found myself becoming jealous of everything that slipped past her lips as she tasted her way through the market, groaning over every bite.

Honestly. It’s as if the woman has never had food before, and she’s clueless that she does this. She moaned so loudly over a cup of mulled wine, I had to excuse us from the wide eyed vendor while Bronwyn went on about the spices. Even if Adrien could laugh it off, I certainly couldn’t.

So, after another moment with a simple raclette, I pulled her away from the table, around the corner from the little booth, and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. I opened my mouth to speak..and boom.

She gazed up at me wide eyed when I looked down at her, shaken myself. Yet, at my wits end, I warned her. “From now on, that’s what happens when you make that sound around others.”

Her eyes darkened as she parted her lips to say something, and I kissed her again, before grumbling, “That is not a sound for anyone else, do you understand, Winnie?”

“Um..” Her hand still gripped my wrist where I gently held her chin. “Ok.”

“I’m happy you enjoy food,” I stroked her cheek with my thumb as I sighed. “I love that you enjoy your food, but some sounds should remain…private, my dove. Ok?”

She nodded in a daze, as I pushed her curls over the shoulder of her beige puffy coat. “Finally,” I exhaled in relief. “Now let’s get back before Adrien finishes your raclette.”

When we returned, she quietly nibbled on her bread, as Adrien’s eyes bounced back and forth between us. That’s when I started silently kicking myself. I could have—should have handled that differently. What possessed me to kiss her?

Glancing at her, the answer is obvious as she takes another bite of cheese and bread and crosses her eyes as she presses her lips together in pleasure. I look away with a gulp, the answer plain to me. After seeing her do that all over town, I kissed her because it’s what I wanted to do—what I’ve always wanted to do. Zut.

Eventually, the awkward moment faded as Doriane bounced between us, talking about the cute stuffed penguin that Adrien bought for her. Bronwyn began laughing, and after shoving the last bite of baguette crust slathered in cheese into her mouth, she started to groan, but suddenly her wide eyes snapped to mine.

I could only chuckle as she swallowed the sound with her bread. When she kicked me under the table, I couldn’t stop laughing, even as Adrien shook his head and Doriane asked what was so funny. I count that as a win.

Over the next few days, Bronwyn and I run around adding her to my bank account and life insurance in case something happens to me and she needs to care for Doriane. She didn’t see the point, since our arrangement is temporary, and even I didn’t understand my compulsion to do it.

Yet, as I explained, it was a necessary step, and something that won’t change even when she divorces me. I’m that certain Bronwyn will always want to be in Doriane’s life in some capacity.

So, we met with my lawyer and went about the process of registering our marriage, and sorting out the necessary details to begin my court case. I’ve tried to make contact with Ivette for some time, so she could at least speak with Doriane, but to no avail.

Therefore, I wasn’t surprised when my lawyer advised it could take some time to locate her to inform her of my suit, and get a response. I’m anxious for it all to be over, so that we can all move on in our lives, but Bronwyn reminded me it’s more important that we get it done right, than quickly.

Of course, she’s right. I’m just impatient to put that chapter of my life firmly behind me.

As my girls sit on the sofa in the great room after breakfast, I look up from my second cup of coffee. While Bronwyn brushes out the golden waves created by the braid Doriane wore to bed, Doriane sits between her legs pleading.

“But, Gift Mama! Nina says all the girls are wearing bangs.”

Bronwyn looks at me as I eye her over another sip of coffee. I’m going to defer to her on this one, and as I smirk, she playfully narrows her eyes before returning her attention to Doriane’s hair.

“Well, what kind of bangs are you talking about, Dorie?”

This concept clearly has not occurred to our five year old, because she sits up, whipping her head around to look at Bronwyn.

“There are different kinds?” She exclaims, eyes wide with shock.

“Mmhm. Sooo many. Which bangs did you pick out?”

Doriane’s gaze bounces from Bronwyn to me, and I shrug. “Gift Mama knows more about hair than I do.”

“But, how do you know that, Papa?” She sullenly asks.

“Isn’t her hair beautiful?” I ask, brow raised.

Doriane rolls her eyes. “You always say that, Papa!”

I shrug at my dramatic koala. “Because it’s true. And, since it’s true, that means she’s an expert on beautiful hair. Isn’t that why you are consulting her?”

“What is consulting?” Doriane frowns.

“It means asking for an opinion. You’re asking Gift Mama’s opinion or what she thinks about you having bangs, so you’re consulting with her.”

“Ohhh. Yes!” Turning to Bronwyn she says, “I don’t know what kind of bangs.”

Bronwyn takes her hand. “Maybe before bed tonight we can look at some pictures of different versions to see which ones you like. We can play with your hair after to see what looks good on you. What do you think?”

Doriane’s little face clears as she smiles. “Ok! That’s a good idea.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ve been known to have those sometimes,” Bronwyn smiles as she sits Doriane down. “But, for today, do you want pigtails, a braid, or a headband.”

As they settle on a braid and a headband, I look out of the window at the sky. It’s been clear a few days now, but it’s supposed to snow tomorrow night. Today is a good day to go for a ride.

Adrien is out for the day, but a quick message to Mama to find out if she and Papa will be home and willing to watch Doriane for a few hours, and I’m all set.

“Doriane, when Gift Mama finishes your hair, please get dressed. You’re going to spend the day with Gigi and Grandpapa.”

“Yay!” She exclaims. “She promised to show me how to make the Savoiardi for the cake.”

I chuckle, knowing she’ll probably eat more of the cookies than will go into the dessert Mama uses them in. “Ok, well be quick.”

As she bounces off to her room, I cross over to sit beside Bronwyn as she gathers the comb and brush. Her curls are piled high on her head, and I’m tempted to pull one out to tease her.

“What’s up?” She asks, as I rest my arm on the sofa behind her.

“How are you feeling, my dear?”

Eyeing me warily, she narrows her gaze on mine. “I’m fine. Do we need to go file something else?”

A grin slowly spreads across my face. “No. It’s finally time. We’re still within our first six months, but I can’t think of a better time than now.”

“What are you talking about?” She asks warily.

I hold up a fist. “Chifoumi,” I smile, referring to the rock paper scissors game.

Her eyes widen and I have to catch her wrist to keep her from scrambling away. “Ohh no, Michou! No!”

“You promised you’ll try something new every six months.”

“Yes, but that was..before!”

“Yes, and my wife is not a woman who goes back on her word.”

She groans, rolling her head back to expose the long column of her throat. “Uggh! Why did I do that? Fine!” She exclaims, her head snapping up as she scowls at me. “I’ll just have to beat you.”

I chuckle. “You’re certainly welcome to try. Best out of three. No hesitating, and real shapes, or you automatically lose the round.”

Bronwyn tosses the comb and brush aside, as she shifts on the sofa to get on her knees. She frowns, her tongue darting out between her rosy lips in such concentration that I have to laugh. She wins the first round with scissors, but it’s like watching the moves flash across her forehead.

She growls when I win the next round after I throw paper, and pushing the sleeves of her soft green sweater up to her elbows, she frowns harder as she concentrates on my hand. When I throw scissors and she loses, she flings her body backwards in such defeat, I can’t help laughing.

“It’s not so bad,” I chuckle, tickling her side.

“Stop!” She giggles, pushing my hand away. “I can’t believe you won! It’s rigged!”

“So, you think I’m cheating, Winnie? Are you calling me a cheater?” I laugh as I continue tickling her.

“Nooo, stop! It’s not funny!” She laughingly pouts, sitting up to grab my hands. “What are we doing anyway?”

I shrug as I stand up. “I’ll tell you when I get back from dropping Dorie at her grandparents. “You should probably change into pants,” I say, eyeing the pleated brown skirt she has on. “And, perhaps add another layer under your sweater.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, as Doriane runs out all bundled up.

“I’m ready, Papa!” She exclaims giddily.

Unable to resist, I lean down to whisper in Bronwyn’s ear. “See..that’s the proper response.”

Her mouth drops open as I chuckle, and turn towards Doriane.

“Let’s go, little koala,” I say, as she latches onto one of my legs.

“Carry me, Papa!” she giggles.

I turn towards Bronwyn who’s still staring at me, and I wink. “What a marvelous idea, my darling.”

When I return from my parents’ house, I remove the cover from my moto to make sure it has petrol. There’s no telling with Adrien, but I’m surprised to see it still has a full tank. So, going in the house, I run into the basement to see if I can find the spare helmet I’d bought years ago, but which rarely saw use.

After checking to make sure it’s usable, I pause when I see a moto jacket peeking out of the box. Hmm. Bronwyn is a lot shorter than Ivette, but with her curves, she’ll likely fill out the jacket, even if we have to roll up the sleeves.

Picking up the jacket, I exit the basement as Bronwyn comes out of the kitchen in running tights and a hoodie.

“Uh, I think you need to change again.”

Her eyes drop to the moto jacket and helmet in my hand, and she swallows. Hard. “Uh. Michel..I know I said—”

I shake my head and point upstairs. “You’ll have to trust me, Winnie.”

She stares me down for several seconds before her shoulders slump. “Fine. I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, she steps into the kitchen wearing jeans, with her hoodie thrown on top of her green sweater. A pair of black leather boots dangle from her hands as she slowly approaches me. I close the cupboard where I was contemplating what to pick up from the market for dinner.

With a glance, I gesture to the moto jacket hanging on the bar stool near the kitchen island. “If it doesn’t fit, I’ll let you use one of mine.”

Eyeing the jacket dubiously, she puts it on without a word. The sleeves overshoot her hands, and it’s a snug fit, but I think it will work. I cross to her and zip her up.

“Can you breathe alright?” I ask, dragging my eyes off her curves.

“It’s a bit tight,” she mutters, her dark eyes shooting darts at me.

With a chuckle, I reach into the jacket and pull her hood out. “And now?”

She nods, “Better.”

I pick up her sleeve and begin cuffing the stiff fabric. “I know you’re worried, but I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. We’ll start off with going down the street and coming back. I’ll let you know when we’re turning, I’ll ask you before I speed up, and we can come back any time you want.”

“Well..ok,” she sighs, as I cuff the other sleeve. “I was afraid you’d make me go all the way to town.”

I shake my head, looking at her intently. “This isn’t about losing a bet and forcing you to do something, remember? It’s about seeing how you feel about something new. You’ll try it, and if you hate it, you never have to do it again. But, at least you’ll know why you don’t like motorcycles. I’ll never force anything on you just for the sake of it, ok, dove?”

Her smile of relief unties a knot that had been forming in my stomach, and that’s when I realize I’m nervous, too. I want her to like it.

“Ready?”

“Yes, Papa,” she smirks.

My stomach drops as my brows rise, making her laugh. “You’re right, that’s weird. I heard it as it came out, and I wondered if it sounded as weird to say it as it sounded coming out—”

“Bronwyn,” I smile.

“I know. I’m rambling.”

Before we step out into the cold, I gather her hair in a low ponytail and quickly braid it while she sits on the bench in the vestibule. When I hand her a balaclava to put on, she looks up at me in bewilderment.

“It’s cold out, but this will help.”

When she rubs the material, I realize she’s worried about her hair, so after running upstairs, I return with her satin scarf. Securing it under her braid, she then puts on the balaclava, and as we approach my bike, she shoves the helmet on, flipping the visor down like she’s going to war.

Chuckling, I help secure it under her chin, and after putting on my balaclava and helmet, I sit on the moto and check to make sure the comms work on her helmet.

“Why is it so loud?” She asks.

Going into the app, I lower the volume. “You want to be able to hear over the sound of the engine when we’re riding. Is that ok?”

She gives me a thumbs up, and after holding a hand out and telling her how to get on, I ask if she’s ridden a moto before. I chuckle when she asks if stationary bikes count, so I walk her through what to do when going through turns and when stopping.

When I start the silver Yamaha FJR, her arms fly around my waist so fast, I have to laugh. “Just remember, Bullet is your friend. Ready?”

“Ready, Papa!” She teases. Oh, what have I done?

Pulling out of my pavered driveway, I start off slow. “We’re just going up to that ridge and coming back,” I say, taking off.

Her arms tighten around me, but she leans with me around the curves and when we reach the top of the hill, I ask how she’s doing.

“I’m ok,” she responds. “You can go a little faster if you want.”

“Ok,” I smirk. “Hold on.”

Giving Bullet more gas, I come back to the house the long way around the hill. Bronwyn’s giggling when I pull up in front of the house, which I consider a good sign. “Can we go again?”

I’m feeling hopeful as warmth explodes through my chest. “Do you want to go the same way, or should I make a longer loop?”

“A longer loop, please.”

I grin as I take off once again, houses and fields flying by us.

“That’s the school Adrien and I attended as children,” I say, pointing towards the short white concrete and wood building.

“Were you a good student?”

I shrug. “I did alright. When we graduated, I went to university for my Masters 2, but I didn’t pass the bar until after I left the GIGN.”

“When we graduated? Who is ‘we’?”

“Oh, Adrien and I graduated the same year.”

“So, you were in the same grade?”

I sigh, hating to bring it up. “We were in the same year at school, yes. From the age of 13 to answer your next question.”

“Ha!” She scoffed. “That was not my next question, smartypants. I was going to ask if the GIGN was like SWAT.”

“Something like that,” I say, pointing to the stretch of water to the left of us. “That’s the river where I caught my first fish.”

“You’re changing the subject,” she chuckles.

Smiling, I nod. “You will never let me get away with anything, are you?”

“Depends. Is there something you want to get away with?”

“Ha! Ok, to answer your question, the GIGN is similar to SWAT, but we have a military designation as well.”

She stiffens in the seat behind me. “So, you’re a military man?”

“Only in the sense that my unit worked both nationally and in some cases outside of the country. But, as I said, I resigned to pursue law, and went to work as a lawyer.”

“Uh-huh. What was your job assignment?”

“A little of everything. Some counter-terrorism, sometimes security, but mostly hostage negotiation and recovery.”

She goes silent a moment. “And, what was your rank?”

I hesitate before answering. “I resigned as a Captain.”

She gasps as I turn back towards the house. “Captain! Is that why the police referred to you as Captain that day? The day of the shooting?”

I nod, coming to a stop at a crossroad before proceeding. “I asked the dispatcher to give the code word to the uniforms outside of your office so that I would know it was safe to exit.”

She hums before going quiet. Then, “Was it hard giving up police work?”

The question takes me by surprise, but I consider it carefully. “Hm. I found my work exciting. There was always something interesting to do, where that’s not always the case being a lawyer. I would have preferred to do it a few more years, but I don’t regret resigning.

I joined the police at the age of 20 while finishing my degree, so I had nearly ten years of service. In all of my years serving, I saw a fallen officer’s widow and children only once, but it left a deep impression on me. I never wanted my children to grieve me early in life. So, when I found out Ivette was pregnant, I immediately made plans to change careers.”

Pulling to a stop in front of the house, I glance over my shoulder. “How are you doing? Ready to stop?”

A long pause follows. “I want to tell you I love it, and we should keep going, but—”

My lips purse as a wave of disappointment crashes through me. “I understand. It’s not for everyone. I’ll—”

“No,” she interjects, her hand pressing against my chest. “I was going to say, I would tell you I love it, but I don’t want it going to your head…”

My brow wrinkles. “So..you want to keep going?”

“If you don’t mind..it’s so much fun!”

A silly grin spreads across my face. “Then, hold on, Mrs. Renard.”

“Yes, Captain,” she purrs, her arms tightening around me, giving me pause.

I clear my throat as I pull off again. “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. Now, hang on. We’re going for a real ride.”

With that, I take off down the road, flying through the familiar valleys and hills with breathtaking views. When we stop at a rest area some time later to use the toilet, I purchase two hot coffees from a vending machine.

Finding a table in the sun, we sip the warm brew as we take in the mountain view. as we take in the mountain view.

“Mmm, that hits the spot,” she groans over the hot coffee.

I chuckle, as I gaze out over the valley below. There hasn’t been a repeat of last Sunday since she now reserves her groans for when she’s at home. And, while the rest stop is busy with travelers, no one is sitting in the sun with us. So, what excuse can I now use for the urge to kiss her?

I take a large gulp of coffee, which is swiftly cooling in the breeze.

“This view,” she continues. “This coffee..you..this is my favorite vacation of all time.”

My brows rise as I eye her over my can. “I’m surprised to be included on a list that boasts the Alps and a can of coffee.”

Bronwyn chuckles. “I think you’d fit perfectly on a lot of lists. Least likely to be a pet owner, most likely to leave rolled up balls of socks laying around.”

“Hey!” I laugh, “I always collect them..eventually.”

She laughs, but after looking at me a moment she turns back to face the view. “There are other lists, too. Best fathers, wonderful friends..”

Our eyes lock for a long moment before she smirks. “Husbands who dare their wives to do things out of their comfort zone.”

I chuckle, looking away as I try to catch my breath. “The name of the last list needs work, but thank you. I appreciate the nomination.”

She hums in response, and after finishing our coffee, we make our way back to the moto. Using my shoulder to steady herself, she climbs on, and after snuggling in behind me she groans, “Mmm. This is nice. I can get used to this.”

“Zut,” I complain, adjusting the volume on the comms. “Now, you’re not just groaning over food, but you’re including experiences as well?”

Her chuckle gives me instant anxiety when I pull back onto the road. “My dear boy, don’t you know that like food, experiences and people are to be savored?”

“Thank you so much for that mental picture,” I mutter, to which she responds with airy laughter.

Ugh. This is going to be a long ride back.

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 23 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 25

I like my wife.

I drop my head in my hands. I don’t just like her, I really like her. Zut zut zut.

This should not be happening. What am I going to do? Ignoring it doesn’t work, but moving forward isn’t an option.

‘Aaaggh,’ I groan into my hands, scrubbing them down my face. Maybe I should wait until she’s asleep before going to bed.

I sit up and look out of the bedroom window, where the sky is as dark as pitch. It’s impossible. We already made a big deal of going to bed in front of Adrien. Knowing him, he’s still lounging in the great room.

I flop against my pillows as the door to the bathroom opens, releasing a fruity lavender cloud of steam. I thought it was a good idea to dim the wall sconces so it’s bright enough for Bronwyn to see, but dim enough that we won’t have to look at each other.

I’m regretting it now as I watch her robed silhouette approach in the soft golden glow. “Michel? Are you awake?”

I stay perfectly still, my eyes lowered, as she tries to peer through the shadows to see my face. When she peels off her bathrobe, revealing a brand new set of long sleeved pajamas, my brows shoot up.

If I feared she was trying to seduce me with her wardrobe that first night, those fears were firmly put to rest nearly every subsequent evening as she went to bed in the most unappealing attire she owned.

I would have long told her she didn’t need to continue expending such an effort to be as unappealing as possible, however, after several rotations of the same stained and tattered outfits, full of holes and worn to pieces, I quickly realized it wasn’t a show. She truly did not invest in her lingerie.

Yet, why would she? If this were a traditional marriage, her mother or sister would help her pick clothes suitable for the bedroom. If this were a traditional marriage, would she have need of her old clothes at all?

I close my eyes against the thought, and when the bed shifts as she climbs in beside me, I keep my breathing steady. Would it be inappropriate to buy her something? Nothing immodest or indecent, just..an expression of appreciation.

I know she’s tried to live by my wish to keep our marriage strictly platonic. Yet, she must surely see how things have shifted between us. We are genuinely friends.

I sigh heavily, thinking back to how Bronwyn held me this morning. How she seemed to understand that I felt no regret over Ivette herself, but what we missed out on.

How she offered nothing but comfort and friendship, as she rubbed my back and stroked my hair long after the tears dried. How I wished I could have stayed curled in her lap and slept for the rest of the day.

Yet, that would have been a sure way to incur a visit from the family. So, I kissed her on the cheek to thank her, and after washing my face, I found her downstairs, peeking through the cabinets near the refrigerator.

When I threatened to take a vacation from cooking, she looked absolutely stricken, saying she would do anything if I didn’t. I teased that she only wants to see me barefoot and in the kitchen, when she actually wagged a finger with her impish smile, and said, “Don’t forget, and pregnant, darling. You must know your place.”

We laughed, but her words sent me back to the night of her unscripted confession, when she said she wanted to give me children that we could both love. I know we were sick, and I shouldn’t take the feverish ramblings to heart, yet, her whispered words still send a shiver through me.

While we traipsed across the hill towards Mama and Papa’s, I tried to prepare her for what lay ahead. We only stopped at the car where she insisted on bringing her large tote bag inside, despite it being safe here.

The entire time, she listened as I described the sinful amount of food, the mess of family coming and going throughout the day, and the boatful of teasing we would be in for. I told her to just be herself, and everyone would love her, because how could they not?

I wasn’t sure either one of us were ready, yet, she assured me she could handle it all, including any displays of affection, just as she did in the car.

When I told her we’ll see how true that is, she took my offered hand, and a bolt of awareness zipped through me at the memory, as it does now. However, neither of us were prepared for the scene that greeted us.

Despite it being just after 10am on a Friday, a time when nearly everyone should have been at work or school, nearly the whole family was present. And, my little koala was holding court, putting on a show with all of the songs and dances she’s learning in school.

My parents’ house is a larger version of my own, with more bedrooms and bathrooms, but the dark wood paneling on the ceiling and floors give it a cozy feel. It’s no wonder it’s the favored gathering place for my three aunts, two uncles, and pack of daredevil cousins. Together with their spouses and children, we’re quite a brood.

Of course, every eye moved to us as we stepped from the vestibule into the blue and yellow great room. They were packed into every nook and cranny, and I nearly took a step back before I remembered Bronwyn behind me. A hush fell over the room, as even Doriane decided to sit down for the show.

Bronwyn’s hand trembled in mine, and remembering this was my circus, I stroked my thumb over her hand in silent support, and took a deep breath. “Hello, everyone! Bronwyn, this is the family. Everyone..this is my wife, Bronwyn.”

Ignoring my sweaty palms, which I never suffered from before that moment, and even the way my voice cracked on the word, ‘wife,’ I lifted our joined hands and placed a gentle kiss on her fingers.

When I gave her an encouraging nod, as nervous as I knew she was, she smiled, flashing the dimples I usually want to sink a finger into. And, no one breathed until Bronwyn said, “Hello, everyone! Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

Then, pandemonium broke loose as every member of my family rushed the door, shouting their greetings, reaching for hugs and kisses, and screaming questions like it was a press conference. Several camera flashes went off, and I knew it was the Trinity, the name my brother and I had given Papa’s three sisters.

Whistling momentarily worked to get everyone to freeze. Yet, they all fell right back into what they were doing as soon as I shouted, “One at a time!”

“All right! All right! Now, she’s my daughter!” Mama cried, her best gold dress swirling about her ankles. “Everyone else, get back, or so help me, there will be no dessert!”

The collective groaned until Mama cast her dark grey eyes around the group adding, “For the rest of the week!”

I have never seen everyone fall back so quickly. Oh, they didn’t go far, choosing to hang back around the edges until a better time. They’re vultures, but I love every single one of them.

Mama is much taller than Bronwyn, so she really meant it when she leaned forward, voice brimming with excitement as she exclaimed, “Oh, my darling! You are just the cutest!—Gus, she’s such an adorable munchkin—I’m Emily Renard, and this is my husband, Auguste Renard. We’re Michel’s parents. Can I hug you?”

I looked sidelong at Bronwyn, knowing how much she hates being reminded of how little she is. But, instead of annoyance, her face was full of joy as she told them she was delighted to meet them, and walked right into Mama’s arms for a hug that quickly became weepy.

Afterwards, it was Papa’s turn, as Mama wrapped me in a hug, whispering how well I’d done, and how much they love her. As I watched Bronwyn get passed around like a fresh plate of appetizers, easily laughing and joking with my aunts and cousins, I couldn’t help make the comparison with their first time meeting Ivette.

Ivette had been stiff, and no amount of time ever melted that stiffness. She never smiled, choosing to sullenly sit scrolling through her phone when she deigned to come. When someone would approach to talk to her, she’d glare at them, being difficult until they moved on.

My parents tried so hard to like her, but she truly wanted nothing to do with them, because in hindsight, I realize she didn’t truly want me. In contrast..I shook my head.

What contrast? There is no comparison. Bronwyn is light itself, drawing people to her, willingly sharing her warmth, not asking for anything in return. She’s easy to love, because for her the road is already open.

A warmth spread through me as I watched Bronwyn pull out what she called ‘happy to see you’ gifts she had brought for everyone. I didn’t realize she had been paying so much attention to our late night conversations about my family until now.

She gave out little NY cheesecake magnets and small bags of coffee for the aunts and uncles, boxes of chocolate for my six cousins, and for their children, she brought small parcels of salt water taffy for the little ones, and enough t-shirts for the eight older kids.

Adrien loved the Jamison McKay shirt she gave him, since she remembered he loves music. Yet, nothing beat Mama and Papa’s excitement when they received a reusable tote bag from the MET, with a pretty water color of spring in Central Park, and a Yankees baseball cap. They danced a jig, wearing their new items, and I could only shrug at their silliness while Doriane clapped for more.

As I was sitting at the bar stool on the kitchen island, Julie, my oldest cousin and Aunt Théodosie’s only child, abruptly called out. “Eh! Michou! Where are your gifts? Are you not happy to see us?”

That brought about a round of laughter that was only cut short when Bronwyn said, “Julie, actually, Michou misses you so much! We worked on it together, which is why your names are on the gifts. They’re from the three of us, so enjoy!”

Of course, a collective ‘aww’ went around, and when I winked at Bronwyn from across the room while she helped tie something for Aunt Gitte, she blushed prettily. Something fluttered in my chest at the sight, and I smiled in response.

Adrien approached, clapping a hand on my back as I tried to catch her eye again. “So, you never did say. Does she have sisters?”

I glared at him as our cousin Max and Uncle Georges, sauntered over and happened to overhear the question. “Or, cousins or aunts?”

I gladly told them she has an identical twin sister, and watched as they broke out in huge smiles before telling them that Briony’s engaged to be married. The groans were hilarious.

And, when cousin Geoff spawned from nowhere, hinting that it may still be worth a shot if she hasn’t said yes, I shot daggers at him and said, if he can find a way to beat out Nicholas Bancroft he was more than welcome to try.

They didn’t believe me until they looked it up and saw the pictures of Briony with Nicholas, commenting how much the sisters look alike. When Papa joined and asked why I was standing around gossiping with a bunch of bachelors, I laughed. And, excusing myself, I went to find my bride.

Hours later, we were nearly home free after eating a third time. Doriane was off playing with her cousins. Bronwyn was sitting on my lap on the sofa as I fed her some of Mama’s Queen of Sheba cake.

At least she was sitting on my lap until she groaned over how good it is, making everyone around us laugh. I was the only one not laughing as I shifted my knee beneath her. She’d have to find another chair if she was going to keep that up.

So, when I took another scoop, I didn’t give it to her. Or the next bite. On the third one, she struck, wrapping her hand around my wrist and stealing the bite. As I fought to get the fork back, she settled on the sofa between my legs, and at that point there was no stopping her from eating the rest of the cake.

“You two are so cute,” my cousin Joanne giggled. “How did you two meet?”

The flock of people that question drew could have been as effective as a call to arms. Bronwyn and I looked at each other then, determined to stick to the official story. “We worked together. Very closely.”

“How closely?” They demanded every detail.

So, I wrapped an arm around Bronwyn’s waist as I told them she stalked me, and told the whole office I was her work husband. The whole time Bronwyn laughed uncontrollably. “That isn’t how it happened!”

When I said she hounded me day and night until I couldn’t resist, everyone scoffed in disbelief, including my partner in crime. And, when she whirled around, betrayal clear in her eyes as she laughed, saying, “Oh, really?” I should have taken the hint.

Instead, I laughed and said it was indeed I who took note of the poor soul, and invited her out. No one believed that version, but it was just shocking the amount of people that believed her when she said I made a fool of myself by inserting my foot in my mouth, and after begging forgiveness I sought her out.

“Now that we can believe!” Cousin Eloise’s husband, Ernst, piped in. There was far too much laughter in agreement for my taste, including from my own wife..so I pushed her hair aside and gave her a little nip on the neck.

It came so easily—so naturally—it could have been something that happened every day. Yet, I knew as soon as I dropped a peck in the same soft spot that I was in trouble. I drew back, just a breath away and froze as I gazed at her.

Not only did she gaze up at me with a question in those soft brown eyes, even as a confused smile turned up the corners of her mouth, it brought the family’s attention down on us.

“Oooh! Cousin Michel is in loooove!”

“Michel, stop playing with your food in front of us!” Adrien called.

“Bronwyn, don’t let him bully you!”

“Gift Mama! Are you and Papa going to go play again?”

The last one broke the spell as I looked at Doriane in shock. Betrayed by my own daughter.

Meanwhile, Bronwyn sat in front of me, her body shaking in laughter as my family tried to embarrass me to death.

“Just kiss her already, Michou! Then everyone can get back to their games,” my own father grumbled over the forgotten hand of cards he, Mama, and my uncles were playing.

With my heart slamming against my ribs, I tugged Bronwyn close. I wasn’t afraid to kiss her. No, I was afraid that if I kissed her now, I wouldn’t want to stop. So, I fought them off with my last shred of restraint.

“We won’t be bullied like this! We can go home!”

“You’re not leaving here until we sing! So, just kiss the girl already!”

“Not you, too, Mama!” I huffed. “Will someone get to the piano already?”

Laughter mixed in with the collective ‘no!’ I was losing my mind. That’s the only reason my nose sank into Bronwyn’s neck as I closed my eyes and murmured so only she could hear. “I’m so sorry, Winnie. I knew it would be bad, but this must be so embarrassing.”

When she made a sound, I lifted my head to see her looking back at me over her shoulder. And, no one was more surprised than me when she smiled, reached back to grab my hair, and pulled me down into a kiss.

It was the culmination of the constant zing that has bounced between us for months. At first, it was light, questioning. As if, despite our conversations to affirm we were ok with PDA, she was still unsure. Yet, when I responded, to let her know it was ok, and oh, so..right, the kiss shifted.

Vague howling, whistling, cheering and laughter rang in the background, but every cell in my body was trained on the woman in front of me, as I drew my hand up to her neck.

In what only could have been mere seconds, we’d asked and answered multiple questions, and when I deepened the kiss, I became drunk from the taste of rum and chocolate still on her lips. I was transported back to our wedding day, to a kiss that now pales in comparison to this one, then beyond, to a life full of similar moments.

That kiss. It stole my breath, and gave me life.

“Go home! There are children present!” Aunt Ophélie’s voice cut through the haze, doing a fine job of uncurling my toes.

Zut. I pulled back as the sound of laughter rang out, and Papa exclaimed, “Finally! I win!”

Only a few seconds could have passed, yet, as I stared into Bronwyn’s dazed eyes, something shifted between us and fell into place. Reaching up to touch the hand she still had fisted in my hair, I smirked as I whispered, “Is this supposed to be payback? Because I’d very much like to keep the hair I have on my—”

Releasing my hair, she sat forward with a startled laugh, reaching for her cold cup of tea and draining the remnants. Yet, she snuggled back against me as I joked with my cousin Lottie. As if I could concentrate on anything beyond every point of contact between me and my wife.

I had to move. I couldn’t continue sitting there that way, as if that kiss hadn’t awoken something I thought long dead. If I didn’t kill it before it took hold of me, I wouldn’t recover if it didn’t work out.

That’s when the Trinity descended in all their dark haired glory, and for five whole minutes we discussed future children I didn’t know we were having, and how we would raise them. When Bronwyn finally laughed, saying she was deferring all timing to me since I’m the old one in the relationship, I delightfully discovered she was ticklish when I pinched her side.

The poor woman was then tickled for every joke made at my expense. Especially when Aunt Dosie asked where we honeymooned and Bronwyn snorted in laughter.

The question startled me. Frankly, it hadn’t occurred to me. “We decided not to honeymoon. We have Doriane after all.”

It was lame as excuses went. Still, I didn’t expect my quiet Aunt Gitte to look at me so skeptically, her salt and pepper bob swinging about her face as she shook her head. “Every woman looks forward to her honeymoon, Michou.”

Aunt Ophélie snorted as Aunt Gitte looked at me disapprovingly. “You’re better than this, my nephew.”

I shook my head. “Not Winnie. She was perfectly fine at home, weren’t you, my love?”

As three pairs of pale blue eyes swung to Bronwyn, I held my fingers in threat against her side, ready to tickle if she decided to break the united front. I was unprepared for her response as her whole body lifted and fell against me when she sighed.

“Actually, I always thought when I got married I wanted a honeymoon. Something simple and quiet, where my husband and I would spend days enjoying being ourselves together. Nothing so fancy as a week in Paris, but definitely somewhere in France.”

She tilted her head to look up at me as she smiled. “I guess Michel fulfilled my wish, because here we are!”

As I wondered how much of that was true, I dropped a kiss on her forehead in thanks. That seemed to pacify the Trinity, who automatically cooed in appreciation.

Then, a few minutes later, when Bronwyn called out, “Mama, where is the piano? I’d like to play something,” the whole room went quiet.

Ivette famously called my mother Mrs. Renard, despite Mama’s wish to be closer. I should have realized that Bronwyn’s habit of calling her Mama on the phone was one she’d carry over in person. Yet, I was caught off guard in that surreal moment.

Mama’s eyes widened in disbelief as she teared up, but when Papa touched her arm, she took a deep breath and pointed to the covered antique piano standing in the dark corner away from the light of the fireplace. “It’s there, my darling, please play as much as you want.”

That’s how I found myself gazing at my wife as she sat Doriane in her lap and began playing at my grandfather’s old piano. She warmed up with one of YaSanaa’s earlier songs that everyone began singing along to, and followed up with a rendition of Life in Rose that had everyone sighing—the women in appreciation, while the men groaned over what we expected to be a standard rendition.

But, of course, Bronwyn added her own twists, even giving it a jazzy flavor at some point so that we were tapping along, before she slowed it back down. Then, she transitioned into a pretty piece I’d heard her tinkering with at home for the last few weeks.

But, when it turns into a rousing rendition of I Want, by Zaz, and she begins belting the lyrics, well..my family loses their minds, and before I know it, every female in the room, including my quiet Aunt Dosie is crowding around her singing along.

The men have gathered to watch and quietly hum along under their breath, as I stare, once again fascinated by this woman. It’s then that Adrien sits down practically on top of me with a grin.

“Michou Bisous! You look happy,” he declared, waggling his brows.

A smile spread across my face. “Of course I’m happy. I’m home with all of my favorite people.”

Adrien ran a hand over his chin as he nodded towards the group of women bouncing around together in the middle of the piano solo. “Did you think when you left here you’d be running towards your future?”

I shrugged as I saw the joy on Doriane’s face as she watched Bronwyn’s fingers flying across the keys. “Who could ever know what the future holds, Adrien.”

He nudged me and smiled. “It’s nice to see you in love with someone who loves you back. It looks good on you, little brother.”

Without waiting for a response, he jumped up and crossed over to dance with Julie who was demanding we stop being old men.

Love? Who said anything about love? I like her certainly, but…wait. I like her. As in, really like her..everything about her. Even when she’s driving me crazy, trying to keep things to herself, I find it almost enjoyable getting it out of her, because I always discover some new fascinating tidbit.

That’s how I came to be sitting thunderstruck as the song came to an end and everyone broke into applause

“Play No, I Regret Nothing!” Aunt Ophélie demanded.

I smiled when Bronwyn put a thoughtful finger to her chin. “Oh, I’m not sure I know that one..is it the one that goes…”

My family all laughed as she began playing the opening notes, in expert mode of course, and joined in singing to each other and being silly in general. As the last notes played, Bronwyn looked up at me and winked.

My stomach bottomed out. Adrien couldn’t be right...

“Now, I’ve been waiting for weeks to hear Mama play La Bohème, because I heard it wasn’t a party until she did,” Bronwyn declared.

Giggles went around as Mama snorted. “I’m not playing after the concert pianist!”

Bronwyn nodded. “Good, because I’m an accountant, and it’s your turn,” she said firmly as she stood up, gesturing towards the piano.

Mama laughed as she stepped around her nieces and nephews to sit on the bench. “Fine, but we should play it together.”

Bronwyn’s eyes widened. “I would be honored, but I’m not sure I know all of the words—”

“Adrien, get your old violin,” I called. “Winnie can accompany you, Mama.”

Adrien rolled his eyes as he stood up grumbling. “You’re really raising the bar here on who I’ll be allowed to bring home in the future.”

“At least there’s something to aspire to.” I slapped him on the back with a chuckle as he walked by.

Mama looked wondrously at Bronwyn…who was glaring at me. “Why are you always such a troublemaker?” She shook her head, meriting a few chuckles.

Smiling angelically, I blew her a kiss. She smiled as she rolled her eyes, but she accepted the violin, which I was surprised to see was still in good condition, and began adjusting it.

After some tuning and discussing notes with Mama, we all settled in for the best sing along in Renard family history.

Bronwyn shoves at my shoulder. “Would you just move over a bit?”

Smirking, I reach over and hit the switch on the bedside table to turn the lights off. Turning on my side, I rest my head on my arm as my eyes adjust to the dark.

“Is that better?” I ask.

“Oh, so you’re awake,” she grumbles.

“Hm. Just a lot on my mind,” I respond. “Thank you for today. It was a lot of fun, but also…thank you for what you did for my family. It was unexpected, but I know they loved their gifts. Mama’s going to wear out her tote bag within weeks, and when the summer arrives, no one will be able to remove Papa’s hat from his head.”

I can hear the smile in her voice when she murmurs, “My pleasure. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

“What would I do?” I frown. “Hide them under the cupboard?”

She pauses. “No..it’s just..I didn’t think you’d want me to spend so much time around them, since we’re..you know.”

Taking a deep breath, I stretch my hand out until I find hers resting on the bed. “Bronwyn, while we’re married, we’re family. Despite the circumstances of it, I could never be ashamed of you.”

“Ohh,” she breathes. “Ok.”

We lay that way a few minutes before a thought occurs to me. “Do you want to see Annecy tomorrow?”

“That would be fun. Maybe we can visit some places you like to take Dorie.”

I nod, even though it’s impossible for her to see. “Saturdays are always busy at the markets, but if you don’t mind the crowd, there’s a place that makes the best old fashioned hot chocolate.”

“Sounds like a date.” A pause, then, “So, tell me when you first knew you were in love with hot chocolate?”

Chuckling, I tease, “I think you’ve gained enough intel from our late night chats.”

“Apparently not enough, because I still have questions.”

Running my thumb over her hand, I snort, “Yes, Inspector, I can see that. To answer your question, I defer to Mama, since I don’t know the exact age I was introduced to chocolate.”

“Ah, so is this how it’s to be, Mr. Renard? Not answering questions and deferring to Mama? You want to do things the hard way?”

I chuckle in response. “Fine. I’m a chocolate addict. I used to sneak it into my room to eat at night, and get in trouble when I didn’t have the foresight to get rid of the evidence.”

Her warm laughter cuts through the air. “Wait..where would you put the evidence?”

“Ugh,” I grumble. “In my pockets, under the pillows, everywhere.”

“That’s so unlike you Mr. Honest to a fault,” she laughs.

“It wasn’t my finest hour,” I grin. “After the third time being caught, Papa advised me it would be wiser to consider leaving the life of crime. I came to see his point when Mama washed my mouth with soap.”

“How old were you then,” she giggles.

“Six,” I snort, which is greeted with more laughter.

“Ahh, we’ll have to be on the lookout to make sure your criminal ways don’t show up with Doriane.”

I pause then, unsure how to respond, when Bronwyn quickly says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that we—that I have anything to do with correcting..I mean—”

“Winnie,” I interject with a sigh. “I don’t expect you to replace Ivette in her life. Yet, you’re her gift Mama, and I think, no matter what takes place between us, you always will be.”

“Hm. You’re probably right, but I don’t know how to be a parent, Michou. I’m trying, I want to be. But, I also don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

Ignoring the way her words warm my heart, I chuckle. “You don’t seem to worry about my toes when we’re dancing.”

When she reaches over to poke me in the stomach, I catch her hand, folding it in mine as I bring it to my chest. “Just be yourself, Winnie. No one knows how to be a parent at first. And, maybe it changes with every child, since no two children are alike. But, we figure it out. And, now we can figure it out together.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “If you’re ok with it, I am, too. We’ll just hope the criminality skips a generation.”

“Hey,” I quip, “I became an officer of the law after that! I’m a changed man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sleepily yawns, “That’s what they all say.”

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 22 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 24

Not ten minutes later, we’re pulling off of a highway in the mountains high above Annecy, and crossing either our third or fourth crystal clear river, which Michel says is named Fier. I’ve mostly calmed myself from the ambush earlier by absorbing the gorgeous surroundings.

Unfortunately, the higher we climbed the more grey everything became, as if we were entering a cloud. But as we cross what appear to be fields, the clouds parts, revealing the mountains standing just above us. We’re actually in a valley of a sort, with houses, or chalets, scattered here and there.

There’s very little in the way of stores, and I only saw one or two restaurants, but the views! It feels like stepping into the opening scene of the Sound of Music..you know..if it took place in France. But, still! The hills are alive.

As I gaze around in amazement, the chatter in the front seat comes to an end, causing me to look up as Michel glances at me.

‘Wow,’ I mouth, grinning as I shake my head in amazement. He beams with pride as he turns to look out of the window.

When we turn up a narrow tree lined lane a minute later, I see a house with green window frames sitting at the top of the hill, and I automatically know it’s his. He warned me that it isn’t a large house, and he’s right. What he hadn’t told me was how adorable it is.

It’s a small two story house, the bottom half made of cement and painted white, and the top half fitted with dark wood logs. Empty planter boxes hang from the balcony on the face of the house, and I can just imagine how idyllic it will look in spring and summer when it’s lined with flowers.

When we turn into the short driveway, Adrien kills the engine and looks at Michel, silently nodding towards the house. Doriane is completely knocked out and softly snoring, but as I undo my seat belt and reach to undo hers, Michel turns around.

“Would you like a tour first, Winnie? Adrien can bring Dorie to Mama and Papa’s, and we can join them after.”

I smile excitedly. “Oh, yes, please! It so adorable, I can’t wait to see inside.”

Michel nods, and as we open our doors to get out, I’m hit with a sense of belonging. I know I’ve never been here before, but it feels familiar, as if I’m coming home.

The air is so fresh and smells green, like sweet grass and herbs, with the faint hint of smoke. Looking at the few houses I can see sprinkled on the nearby hill, nearly every one of them has a curl of smoke ascending from a chimney.

Nearby, trees ascend into the mountains above us, and maybe it’s my imagination, but it looks like a small waterfall is trickling from one of the peaks. Looking down towards the valley we just came from, there’s nothing but the river winding through the hills, mountains, and homes.

I must look like a crazy person, spinning around, taking it all in and huffing the air like an addict. Yet, as I face Michel and our eyes meet, I’m just full of awe that a place like this exists. “I don’t think I would ever leave, Michou. This is just..breathtaking.”

“Hm,” he nods towards the house with a tight smile. “Ready to see inside?”

My own smile is swift as I exclaim, “More than you know.”

Walking around the car, towards the set of stone steps on the side of the house that lead up to the first floor, Michel holds out a hand to me as he says, “Watch your step.”

Taking his hand, I let him lead me to the modest front door, painted the same sage green as the window frames. Turning to point to a larger house sitting on the next hill, he offers a lopsided smile.

“That’s Mama and Papa’s house. That’s where I grew up.”

“Wow,” I nod. “Dorie must love being so close to her grandparents.”

“It’s a fight to get her home some days,” he admits, pushing his sunglasses atop of his head. Then, pulling out a key, Michel puts it in the lock before nervously looking down at me.

“Uh, it’s a modest home, but you’re welcome here.”

I smile reassuringly as I squeeze his hand. “If you’re trying to keep me from falling in love with it, I think you may have already lost that battle.”

He ducks his head, but I still see the smile as he steps inside.

The little stone and sage entryway has a cubby for hanging coats, with a small bench on one side and a washer and dryer on the other.

He helps me out of my jacket, and hangs it with his on a peg. But as he takes off his boots, and I bend down, unzipping my brown booties, he holds up a hand. “Just give me a moment.”

I sit down on the bench as he disappears through another green door with smaller glass panes on the top half. A cream colored curtain hangs on the other side, so I’m not able to see inside until the door flies open when he comes back.

His ears are red, and he’s refusing to make eye contact, but when he hands me a thick pair of socks, I gratefully accept and slip them on over my ankle socks.

“Welcome in,” he says, stepping back so I can step up onto the herringbone patterned wood floor. Surprisingly, the floor is as warm as the blast of heated, wood scented air that hits as soon as I step inside.

Straight ahead, a door sits open to an all white, full bathroom with a little window above the toilet. To the right there are three doors, with one opening to what appears to be Doriane’s yellow and white themed bedroom. Those are her favorite colors, so it makes sense.

The middle door is a linen closet, and the last door opens to reveal another modest sized guest room. The bed and armchair are littered with clothes, and are only rivaled by the amount of clothes on the floor. Adrien is living here for the year that Michel is away, and he’s made himself quite at home.

“Good sized rooms,” I comment, as Michel nods.

Both rooms are smaller than any of the bedrooms in my apartment, including the music room, but they’re perfectly large enough for a home. I daresay they’re larger than rooms found in typical New York City apartments.

Turning left at the entryway puts us at a door leading to a set of descending stairs on the left and an L shaped kitchen on the right.

From the backsplash all the way up to the ceiling, large, natural colored stones clad the walls, while a cream quartz countertop tops the sage green cabinets. Yet, the large island in the center is topped with butcher block, and features a massive stainless steel sink to match the refrigerator and electric stove.

A small, cast iron, wood burning stove sits between the great room and the kitchen, and I don’t have to wonder if it ever gets used in such a modern space since it’s currently in use.

The descending stairs lead to a small home gym, half bath and storage, or so I’m told as we step into the generous sized pantry beside it. I chuckle as Michel grumbles about the size of the rats that must have gotten in to leave such empty shelves.

Stepping into the great room finally brings us out from under the loft to the high, wood beam lined, white ceilings. An abundance of light pours in through the windows from all three sides of the large room, making the window seats perfect for reading, and giving the space an open and airy feel.

A two person, plaid upholstered banquette in the corner of the dining area features a square table with two additional chairs, and sits just behind an oval dining table that could seat between 6-8 people.

Despite feeling as if I should still be asleep, excitement at finally being in Michel’s space means I’m humming and nodding at the appropriate intervals, in awe of what he accomplished on his own.

Several deep-seated grey couches, armchairs, and wood tables decorate the rest of the space, all buried under so many blankets and pillows, I’m beginning to wonder if they have pillow fort contests. These all face the windows and a set of double doors that lead to a covered tiled balcony.

Several empty planters are lined up beneath the balcony, and I immediately wonder what Michel usually plants. There’s a door to the right that leads outside, but I’m distracted from asking where it leads when I see Adrien pulling away in the SUV below.

As I follow Michel up the stairs at the far end of the great room, I note all the pictures of Doriane as a baby and all her stages of growth.

“This is such a good picture of you two,” I smile, pausing on the landing to get a closer look. It must have been taken earlier this year since Dorie is still wearing the pink sneakers from the photo. They’re both looking into the camera smiling happily, and I immediately wish I could bring the picture home with us.

At the top of the stairs, we’re greeted by a carpeted loft which houses more toys than I’ve ever seen. Dollhouses, kitchen sets, bears, legos..if it’s marketed to children, it’s there. And now I know that Doriane’s style has seriously been cramped by her move.

“If I were Dorie, I would have staged a coup. There’s no way she wanted to leave.”

Michel chuckles. “From what I heard the meltdown was very serious indeed.”

I shake my head, staring at him in wonderment. “I forgive your meltdown, too, from when you first arrived. I would not be ok, trading all of this for New York City.”

His smile is a little sad when he quietly says, “It wasn’t easy, but, I would do it again for Doriane.”

“She’s definitely worth it,” I smile in return.

We continue the tour, turning right into a small alcove with just two doors. The first door on the right reveals a storage room with the water heater. Michel only hesitates a moment, taking a deep breath and pushing open the last door.

On this level, the steep pitched roof gives the cozy room height and character. The same natural wood planks that run through the rest of the home, line the floor of the master bedroom. It’s smaller than the other rooms, but it’s uncluttered, and feels cozy.

Morning light, streaming in through the white sheers at the floor to ceiling window and balcony, bathes the room in a warm glow. It illuminates the white and beige throw rugs, the pretty wood nightstands and headboard of the queen sized bed. Not to mention the whitish gray flowers that appear to have been recently knocked off the fur throw to the floor, and hastily swept under the bed.

That must be where the floral scent that mingles with the light woodsy scent is coming from. A glance at Michel, reveals he’s standing in the doorway looking everywhere except at me.

It’s a safe bet to say the flowers weren’t his idea. Apparently someone in his family is waging a covert battle behind the scenes to give him a romantic welcome home.

Crossing to a door on the far side of the bed, I find a pretty beige stone bathroom with slate tile, a stand up shower, and under a small window, a deep tiled in tub. Very nice, but no, that’s not helpful.

I close it and open the door closest to the bedroom door, and wow. The master closet is nearly as big as the bathroom. It’s gorgeous, but it isn’t carpeted. I heave a sigh before noticing the sliding doors to the balcony.

Rushing to it, I unlock and slide it open. That view is breathtaking. There’s nothing between me and that view except..well, this wall of windows. It seems this isn’t a balcony, or if it is, it’s been completely closed in.

With skylights at the eaves over the windows, it gives the small space a greenhouse feel, both bright and warm. There’s a small desk and chair set up on one end, and lots of shelves and empty planters. I wonder if Michel uses this space for gardening as well.

I slowly step back inside, noting how tightly his arms are folded across his chest. “Michou, I love your house. Really, if I could shrink it and bring it back to the States with me, I would.”

He scuffs his foot on the floor, looking truly abashed as he rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you, Winnie. That means a lot to me.”

“Um, I’m just really curious because, well I remember we’re sharing the room, but..um. There’s no space for..well..unless you have an abundance of blankets for your closet floor, or you plan to sleep under the bed there’s..no space for you to sleep on the floor..”

Rubbing the back of his head, he looks sheepishly around the room. “I could sleep in the bathtub.”

I chuckle, folding my hands in front of my mouth. “Well, even if you had the world’s biggest bathtub, I would say that’s a terrible idea. Especially for two weeks…so, um, yeah. I think we already know how this ends, but why do you only have a Queen sized bed, and how are we both going to fit on it?”

He looks at me dumbfounded. “Uh, well, although a King bed could technically fit, I was the only one here. It didn’t make sense to have a larger bed taking up space for me alone.”

I rub an eye, pursing my lips. “Hmm. So…well. Ok. We have no other choice, but, I have my scarf and bonnet this time. We’re going to keep our clothes on, and it’s going to be fine.”

Michel looks at the bed dubiously. “Do you really think it will be alright? You made a good point about the bed being..too small.”

A strangled sound escapes my throat as I close my eyes, shaking my head. “Yeah..we’ll be fine..and hey. You were worried about us being comfortable with appearing lovey dovey with your family. After sleeping in..that, I think we’ll be pretty used to each other. So, bonus right?”

He offers a tight smile. “I’m sorry, Winnie. I should have thought of the size of the bed and made other arrangements. With an extra house guest, and the house already being too small, I should have realized..”

I shake my head. “Look, I’m being perfectly earnest here. I love the house. It’s the perfect size, it’s gorgeous, and so thoughtfully laid out. There’s nothing wrong with the house.”

The gold of his eyes light up in the morning sun as his smile broadens. “It means a lot to me, that you feel this way. It took me a year to design it, and three to get it built, with all of the excavation that had to be done for the geothermal heat pumps—”

“Wait,” I frown in confusion. “Are you saying you built this house?”

He nods, his brows puckering. “I thought I explained that was the reason I have the mortgage?”

“Nooo,” I stare in surprise. “You told me you took out a mortgage for the house, but I had no idea you designed and built it. When you said it was finished a little over a year ago, I thought you meant renovations…”

With a sigh, he crosses his arms and looks at the floor. “I thought..well, at the time the three of us were living in Annecy. Ivette was struggling, as she had been since Doriane was born, but she took more and more jobs away from home. At least, that’s what she told me at the time.

So, I thought, perhaps it was the noise of town, perhaps the convenient access to things that she was supposed to be avoiding. Maybe if we could settle somewhere away from distractions.”

He rocks back on his heels as he softly shakes his head. “I approached my parents to ask them to sell me a piece of their land. They wanted to gift it, but for tax purposes it had to be a sale.

Once that was complete, I moved forward with figuring out how best to use the land, surveying, drafting..it all took time. By the time I got the keys in my hand, Doriane and I had gone through so much with Ivette, yet I still thought I should give it one more try.”

A sinking feeling in my stomach has me crossing to stand in front of him, but he doesn’t look up. As he stares at a point on the floor, his words come out in short angry bursts.

“When she finally came home between jobs, I told her I had a surprise for her. She didn’t believe me, but as I drove closer and closer to my parents house, the more agitated she became. And, when we pulled in to the driveway..”

Michel grits his teeth, breathing through his nose as he tries to calm himself. “When we pulled in..she wouldn’t get out of the car, Winnie. I begged her. I showed her the keys, I pulled up the deed on my phone, I showed her the mortgage payments…nothing mattered. She screamed abuses at me, about my family never caring about her, about living in a tiny apartment, and now being forced to live in a tiny shoebox in the back woods.

He looks up at the ceiling, his voice flat as he continues. “We had already been through counseling, checking her in and out of rehab, everything, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested in me, in this life. She had outgrown her need for me, so she rejected all of it.

She preferred money to taking the house in the divorce settlement…and, I’m still not sure why she wanted Dorie, when it’s so hard for her to connect to her. She hasn’t called once since leaving…”

He pauses, his body shaking, and when I lay a hand on his arm, he looks down at me and I realize it isn’t anger, but sadness that fills his eyes. His face crumples as he drops to the floor trying to breathe through the tears. “I was just trying to build a home…”

I go right down with him, pulling him to my chest and cradling him as much as I can. Tears roll down my own cheeks at the realization that he isn’t sad over Ivette. He’s grieving what he wanted most, and what was ultimately denied him..a family to fill this home, to love and care for.

While I whisper reassurances that it isn’t over, that he’s still here, another part of me realizes that he’s also crying because he still badly wants it, even if he can’t see how to get there. As much as he’d hate to admit it, he’s still clinging to the hope, nearly as tightly as he’s clinging to my waist right now.

So, I pray that Michel figures it out, that he’s strong enough to reach for it when he finds it. And, I also pray to be strong enough to let him go when he does.

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 22 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 24

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 21 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 23

Through a constant flurry of work, school events, family events, and wedding planning, home life has become an anchor to my soul. It’s my peace in a constant storm.

Was Dad upset because I’m helping plot a surprise destination wedding for Briony? Yes. But, Mom was happy, and they got over the annoyance of having to travel to England…eventually. Then, Michel made beef bourguignon, and that storm was quickly forgotten.

Now, my parents adore Nick. They even managed to get over their shock at the 11 year age gap between he and Briony. So, I decided to take Mom out for lunch one day to tell her about Michel. If things went well, then I’d tell Dad.

I picked a well-known French restaurant that Michel loved when I treated him. Despite the brick walls and the Midtown lunch crowd, the white table cloths, dark furnishings, and paintings featuring thematic French settings was conducive to spilling big news. I also hoped the atmosphere would remind me not to chicken out.

So, I began by telling Mom how Michel became my roommate. The soft sell went better than expected, and when she asked if things improved between us, I couldn’t keep the resulting grin off my face.

After telling her a little about him, she could barely control her delighted squeals. When I showed her a couple of pictures of him and Doriane, she giggled over him like she was in love. I was ready to drop the bomb.

Instead, as I was trying to spill the big news, I was bombed when she looked up, her dark brown eyes suddenly troubled, and said, “No matter what happens, Wyn, don’t tell your Dad. You know how he is.”

The disappointment was overwhelming, but I tried to fight it. “But, Mom, what if..I’m just saying..what if Michel and I end up—”

Mom shook her head so firmly, her salt and pepper twists began slapping the sides of her face, stopping me in my tracks. “Your Dad is just coming to terms with Nick and Briony living 200 feet from each other in separate houses. Imagine if he knew you were sharing an apartment!”

She scoffed then and shook her head. “No, let’s just keep this between us. Michel is moving back to France at the end of August, right?”

When I stiffly nodded, she smiled and took a sip of her wine. “Good. That’s a little over eight months away. Your father hates traveling into Manhattan anyway. He won’t think it’s strange you haven’t invited us, as long as you keep showing up for family dinner.”

I pursed my lips as I slowly cut into my duck, then brightened. “Maybe I can invite Michel and his daughter for dinner one day, just as a friend…”

She was already looking at me with that quirked brow that tells me I’ve lost my mind. “Now you know that’s not going to fly. One word from his daughter, and then what?”

I felt a little wild then. Like a caged animal. I wanted to scream why not, but instead I sipped my water, twisting my napkin in my lap. I had to say something! “But, Mom, what if something happened between us. Between me and Michel, I mean.”

She frowned, her smooth dark skin pulling taut around her eyes. “Like what?”

I sat back and looked around at the nearby diners as if they had the answer, all while my heart was beating like it was about to get up and leave the table without me.

“I don’t know,” I exclaimed. “What if we got married?”

Mom stared at me a moment before she burst into laughter, shaking her head dismissively. “Oh, Bronwyn. You always were the dreamer. Married! Your father would have a coronary! As I’ve told you, as much as we may enjoy them, life is not a romance novel, darling. You already said the man was adamant that nothing happen between you, could he make that any clearer?”

I chuckled self-consciously at that point, immediately feeling deflated. “You’re right.”

““Then, just forget about it,” Mom waved a dismissive hand as she took a bite of her coq au vin. “Now, you said something about traveling at the end of the month. Where are you headed?”

So, I told her the abbreviated version of where I was going and for how long, all while I tried to keep my poor heart from bleeding out.

When I got home, Michel patched me up with a sumptuous tartiflette that left me dreaming about potatoes, cheese and bacon for days. And, little Dorie put on a show to make me feel better, singing and dancing to songs she learned in school.

On we went, spinning in and out of good times and bad times. When his brother was in a car accident, and his truck was totaled, I sat up with Michel as he paced the room waiting to find out if Adrien was ok. It turned out that he was a bit banged up, but nothing too, serious.

Still I held Michel as he cried in relief, and told me how much the distance is killing him. We talked far into the night, and long after I crawled out of his ‘pallet’ and into my bed, I hung over the side and let him regale me with stories of his childhood until we fell asleep.

When I was finally able to chase up Evie, we instantly had a rapport. As it turns out, the woman refused to be the Matron of Honor, despite my insistence that she take it, claiming Briony would behead her and steal her children. A bit brutal, but perhaps accurate if we know Briony.

We laughingly agreed to be a Matron and Maid of Honor to share the load, although it would technically be two Matrons of Honor. However, I wasn’t about to spill that particular bean to Briony’s best friend.

After spitballing some ideas, we came up with a great idea for a bachelorette party where the ladies would indulge in a spa day, while all the men threw knives, or whatever it is that Alfie would have them doing.

I actually felt better after speaking to Evie, and as I told Michel about the planned festivities, I felt more excitement over the wedding than I had since learning about it. So, after kicking him out of the kitchen, I brought Dorie in to help make a pan of brownies. We decorated half with sprinkles and covered the other half with Nutella, giggling about how surprised her Papa would be.

Well, the joke was on us, because out of 12 brownies, Dorie and I only had three and a half. I knew he loved chocolate..but, really!

Meanwhile, at work, Brad didn’t take kindly to me taking my hands off of his work. After several discussions over the last few weeks, my pitiful year end bonus reflects his disapproval.

So, instead of leaving to meet Michel and Dorie to head for the airport, I’m sitting here staring at a memo requesting that I meet with HR to discuss a performance improvement plan. Anger swirls in my gut at the realization that Brad would rather fire me than step up and do his job.

I’m still staring at the email when a knock sounds at the door, and my second favorite person in the building swings into my office.

“What’s got your girdle knotted up?” Sam chuckles, as she unzips a bit of the side zipper at the hem of her brick red, leather pencil skirt to comfortably sit. Only she can pull off a white and black polka dot blouse, black under bust corset and stiletto, lace platform booties.

I take in her red lip and the artful smoky eye technique that makes her hazel, lion like eyes pop, and immediately stretch my arms towards her across my desk.

“Teach me how to do battle makeup! Spill the secret of your ways!”

She smirks as she tuts. “Somehow, I don’t think your husband would appreciate you in my Morning Dom look. I think he’s fallen in love with your natural, girl next door vibe. So I must sadly decline your generous offer.”

I roll my eyes, as I sit back, dropping my chin in my hand. “If he’s in love it’s with the hot cocoa at Soccorso’s. He gets it so often, I think I can taste it in my sleep now.”

Sam chuckles as she tosses her long bang to the side. “Well, if that’s what you want to call it…”

As I shut down my computer, I glare at her as she starts laughing. “I’m in no mood for jokes. Michel and Dorie are already in the taxi, and I still have to run down to Stella Caron’s office before I leave.”

Her laughter immediately dries up at the mention of the HR Manager. “And, why pray tell, would you need to go there?”

Rolling my eyes, I pull up the email on my work phone and pass it to her while I clean my desk. Sam scans the email and immediately jumps up, letting a very colorful string of Spanish words fly from her mouth. Her eyes are ablaze with anger. “How dare he? After everything you’ve done for Brad?”

She pulls out her phone and begins furiously typing.

I shrug as I reach in the desk for my purse, dropping in the work phone Sam tossed aside in her anger. “I knew it was coming the moment I started declining his work. I had enough of my own to do, but I guess HR disagrees.”

“Ha!” She exclaims. “HR isn’t filing a PIP for you, but they do plan to give a verbal warning. Just—”

She looks down when her phone buzzes again, and growls. “Just a second, Wyn…argh!”

Then, after another flurry of typing, she looks up, smiling triumphantly. “Your meeting is rescheduled for when you return, but you don’t have to worry. It’s being handled. Now just go—”

Her phone buzzes, and when she scans it, all the color drains from her face, as a soft, “No,” escapes her lips. After another flurry, I’ve got my coat on when she finally looks up, sparks of fury shooting from her eyes.

“Guess who’s making me go with him to Switzerland for the next month? Ben’s claiming its a training opportunity. I’d like the opportunity to train my foot up—”

“I really hope it’s not because of something you did for me, Sam. Just take it back. I can handle it,” I say decisively.

Sam crosses over to me, fairly quickly for someone in six inch heels, and puts her arms around me. “You just go and have fun. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t worry about me. It’s not like I haven’t traveled with him before.”

She pulls back to smile wickedly. “Besides, I’ll get to wear some of the outfits I can’t get away with here due to corporate culture. I plan to grind that man down into a fine powder beneath my Nayima peep toe heels.”

I playfully shudder. “Good grief, what did he ever do to you, Sam?”

The darkness lifts from her eyes, replaced with amusement as she pinches my cheek. “Don’t worry about it, babe. This is your first real vacation in years. You just focus on making sure your fine husband doesn’t think about staying over there.”

I huff a laugh as I pick up my purse. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll work on it!”

“Gift Mama! Gift Mama! We’re here!”

The feeling of soft raspberries being blown on my cheek wakes me, and I chuckle as I slowly open my eyes.

“Flight attendants, take your seats for landing,” comes over the speaker as my ears pop.

Outside the window, we’re descending over a lake, which turns into green hills dotted with houses as we come in for a landing. I sit up with a yawn and stretch, catching Michel’s eye. When he winks, I smile and look down at the adorable bundle of energy sitting between us.

“Thanks for waking me, Dorie,” I murmur, as I stroke her fuzzy braid. “It looks like we need to make a pitstop before we leave the airport, huh?”

She giggles as she sings, “Gigi has a toilet, we can stop there!”

“Ah, so it’s straight to Gigi’s house, is it?” Michel smiles, tickling her belly. “Forget our house, it’s only about the marshmallow teddy bears with your grandparents, isn’t it?”

She laughs as the plane’s wheels touch down, and adorably starts clapping as the pilot announces our welcome to Genève. I smile as I clap with her, and immediately turn on my phone to message Briony that I’ve landed. I drop my phone in my bag, not expecting a reply since it’s 1:30am back home.

I’m glad I managed to get some sleep because they say the cure for jet lag is to stay awake until it’s time for bed. Coffee, here I come.

“We can visit a lounge so that you can freshen up before we leave the airport, if you’d like,” Michel says, eyeing me over Dorie’s head.

“Oh,” I tilt my head. “I can wait till we reach your house. I just need to use the ladies room, and do something with this,” I wave a hand at the scarf tied around my head.

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “Alright. That will be our first stop.”

“Thanks,” I smile.

Michel was surprised when I pulled out the scarf when we first sat down on the plane, and asked if I planned to wear it the whole time. I just asked if he knew the damage a flight of nearly eight hours could do with all that dry air circulating in the cabin. He immediately locked his lips and threw away the key.

So, after gathering our things and leaving the plane, Doriane and I head into the ladies room to handle our necessities. When I’ve finished giving her two french braids, pleased with how her hair has grown since giving her a trim a couple of months ago, I get to work on my hair.

A little eyeliner, mascara and lip color later, I fluff my curls over one shoulder of my belted, knit oatmeal cape and pick Dorie up to look in the mirror. “How do we look, babe?”

“Beautiful, Mama,” she whispers, giving us two thumbs up.

Kissing her cheek, I smile. “Beautiful, Dorie. Let’s go find, Papa.”

We find him leaning against a wall outside of the bathroom, guarding our bags while looking at his phone. His thick, dark hair is longer than it was when he first arrived to the States, so it now falls in waves and curls about his face and over the collar of his black wool jacket and long plaid scarf. Perhaps most unusually, he’s wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, neatly cuffed above a pair of brown leather combat boots.

Do not ask why I’m here for it. Just don’t.

“Papa! Look at my hair!” Dorie exclaims as she let’s go of my hand to run towards Michel.

He runs a hand through his hair as he looks up, a grin on his face as he bends to catch her. “Wow! You’re beautiful, little koala. Where’s Gift..”

His voice trails off as he looks up to see me coming, and…I’ve never thought of myself as the most beautiful person in the world, but at that moment, when he swallows as he scans me from head to toe..I just might believe it.

“..Mama,” he finishes on a whisper.

The butterflies put on a whole Broadway production in my stomach, and I dip my chin as I near them, a bit embarrassed. It has to be hormones. So what if my period just ended a week ago. Some phase of the moon, some type of pheromone, something is in the air, and I need to get a grip.

“Ready?” I ask brightly, when I stop in front of Michel. I don’t wait for a response as I pick up my tote bag.

After going through immigration and customs, we collect our luggage, and turn towards something called the French sector. Once we’re through another set of customs, we find ourselves in a parking garage as Michel talks to Adrien on the phone.

“We’re waiting by the doors…yes, the same one you dropped me off at..ok..ok.”

“Papa, I’m hungry,” Doriane intones as he hangs up the phone. Michel smirks at me. It’s nearly 3am at home, she’s sleepy, not hungry.

“Remember, we ate on the plane? But, if you’re still hungry, we’ll get something to eat after Uncle Rien picks us up.”

When he looks up at me, I’m trying to cover my laughter, but when he raises a brow, I mouth, “Uncle Rien?”

He smirks, and murmurs, “It was payback for Michou Bisous.”

I dissolve into laughter just as a black SUV pulls up in front of us, because Uncle Nothing is a diabolical clapback.

The SUV comes to a stop, and out jumps the second most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, with a large toothy grin. He’s equally matched in size with Michel, maybe an inch taller, and I’m sorely tempted to ask if he’s sure they aren’t twins.

Yet, the differences are there. Adrien wears his dark brown hair cut at a modest length, and while he shares the same thick brows and lashes as Michel, with the same prominent jawline, his eyes trend more blue than grey, and his lips are slightly fuller.

As cold as it is, he’s only wearing a cardigan over a Def Leppard t-shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of black and white Vans.

“Uncle Rien!” Doriane squeals as she takes a running leap at the man.

“I’ve missed you, my darling!” He coos in a voice slightly deeper than Michel’s, pressing kisses all over her face. “That’s it, I’m kidnapping you. You can’t go back with Papa this time. I insist!”

“No!” She squeals in laughter as he puts her down to approach us, reaching over to clap a hand on Michel’s back a few times.

When he steps back, he’s talking to Michel, but his eyes haven’t left my face. “Only you would go alone for work and return with a full family, Michou. She’s gorgeous!”

I raise a brow as I look at Michel. He’s rolling his eyes at his brother, but I don’t miss the way he steps closer to me and rests his hand on my lower back. “Sweetheart, this is my ape of a brother, Adrien. Adrien, this is my wife, Bronwyn.”

Adrien steps forward to give me air kisses before extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, my lovely sister-in law.”

“Nice to meet you, Adrien,” I return with a smile. But as he draws my hand towards his lips, I pull away, tucking my hand in Michel’s instead.

Adrien laughs, but looks pointedly at Michel, who smirks. “Just open the trunk, Rien.”

Adrien barks in laughter, and as they move towards the rear of the truck with our two suitcases, I hear him commenting on how little we brought with us, and asking if I have a sister. Ha! Jokes on him. I do, and she’s taken.

I have Doriane buckled into her car seat and I’m buckled in beside her by the time they’ve finished their little chat and finally get in. Heavy metal comes crashing through the speakers before the volume is lowered with an apology.

“Do you want to color, Dorie?” I whisper as the guys sort out where to go first. When she agrees, I reach into her pink book bag, pull out a set of crayons and a coloring book, and set them up on her tray.

As Rien pulls into a little two way road that turns into a tunnel, Michel opens a console and pulls out a case. When he puts on a pair of aviators, I chuckle. Younger siblings…

But, wait. Adrien’s car was wrecked. Is this actually Michel’s truck? It would explain the car seat, although that could technically be installed in any car.

When there’s a lull in the conversation up front, I ask, “How are you since the accident, Adrien?”

He nods as he merges into a highway. “Better, thanks for asking. I’m still on leave until after the new year, but hopefully I’ll get a clean bill of health to return to duty.”

My brows rise. “Oh! Are you with the police or something?”

His laugh is familiar when he says, “Or something.”

“Please, tell me you aren’t still using that old line,” Michel says dryly.

“Why? Worried it will work?” Adrien retorts with a chuckle as we cross over a beautiful river.

Michel turns his head, and I can imagine he’s rolled his eyes.

“How do you put up with this man?” Adrien’s eyes dart to mine in the rearview mirror.

“How far apart are you two in age?” I ask, unwilling to jump in the middle of their sibling standoff.

“A year,” Rien says, as Michel says, “11 months.”

“Ah, I see,” I respond. “Irish twins.”

They look at each other and burst into laughter as Michel says, “I don’t think you can call Frenchmen, Irish, my love.”

“And, certainly not twins,” Adrien mutters good naturedly.

“Why not?” I smirk. “It’s the term for children born within 12 months of each other.”

“For one thing, my dear, I have 11 months more experience than him,” Adrien asserts.

“You mean you failed at more things, more often than I have,” Michel counters.

I chuckle at their banter, as we pass a checkpoint. Mountains rise around us, and set against the bright blue of the sky, make the perfect backdrop for a postcard picture.

Despite the fact the ride is supposed to be less than an hour, I doze off, only waking at the sound of a door closing. My eyes snap open, and I look around to see we’ve stopped at a market of some sort.

Doriane has also dozed off, and she’s still asleep, the poor dear, but Michel appears to be scrolling through his phone, his other hand braced against the back of the driver’s seat. His wedding band glints in the sunlight, and I smile, remembering how it got tangled in my hair the night of our wedding.

I must make a noise, because he glances at me over his shoulder and smiles. “What’s so funny?”

Reaching up, I spin the ring on his finger. “I was just thinking that you likely still carry my DNA around in your wedding band.”

His brow furrows, then he chuckles, quietly adding, “I’m pretty sure I still have your hair embedded in my finger.”

“Talk about making an impression,” I giggle with a shake of my head.

His eyes glitter as he smiles. “That you most certainly did. Four days out of seven…”

“Wha-? Ahhh…”

He quietly laughs as I duck my head when I remember making a similar statement after we caught that weird bug. I hit him in the arm, a flustered smile spreading across my face.

“There’s a child present, Mr. Renard.”

He lifts a shoulder as he smirks. “The show still must go on, Mrs. Renard.”

Heat crawls up my neck as I roll my lips into my mouth, trying to contain the smile threatening to break free. I hold up a finger. “Careful, Sir, or I’ll think you’re being naughty.”

“Not yet,” he responds, staring at me through those confounded aviator lenses that make him look devastatingly handsome.

Oh. My. Cocoa. I can’t believe this man is flirting with me!

The butterflies have fried to death with the electricity zinging through me. I turn my head to look out of the window, hoping that the heat of the sun will be enough to cool my face down, because it is hot in here.

“You know, they say some behaviors are addictive, Mr. Renard. Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead.”

He lifts the hand on the back of the seat to put a finger under my chin and turn my head towards him. “And, if I don’t? Do you think you can handle it?”

When he runs his thumb across my mouth, I instantly lick my lips, clearly unable to deal with this, and thankfully he puts me out of my misery when he boops my nose and turns around.

“If you can’t handle this much flirting, I don’t know what you’re going to do when we’re around my family. We discussed it before, but maybe I should have tried to ease you into it earlier.”

My brows rise as I recall our conversation around the time he said he bought our tickets. He didn’t plan to tell his family about the nature of our arrangement, so as far as they’re concerned, we’re a regularly married couple. And, allegedly, when this guy is in regular love, he’s extremely affectionate.

But, we aren’t in regular love. I swallow as I look back at him. Apparently, we’re a couple so in love, we met and married within a month and a half of meeting. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You may be out of practice, but don’t worry,” I say with more bravado than I feel. “I’ll pick up your slack.”

His silent wheeze of laughter isn’t even interrupted when Adrien opens the door and chucks a bag at him. “What’s so funny? What did I miss?” Adrien asks as he starts the car.

“We were just talking about the size of your head,” Michel retorts, pushing his sunglasses atop his head. But, when Adrien gets started cracking jokes about his boat sized feet, Michel turns around and winks at me, and all I can do is turn my head and look out of the window.

Yeah…this is going to be brutal.

← Previous Chapter: Chapter 21 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 23

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← Previous Chapter: Chapter 20 /|\ Next Chapter → Chapter 22

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Three knocks like the police..can only be Michel. When I look up, he already has his coat on over his blue dress shirt and black pants, and he’s wearing a smile.

“What’s up?” I ask, my brows shooting up.

He approaches my desk slowly. “Can’t a man come to take his wife to lunch?” His eyes widen, flicking to the side and back at me.

Looking over his shoulder, I see half the finance department is hanging out of their cubicles across the hall, trying to appear busy, but definitely spying.

I smile widely at him. “Certainly! Lets do this!“

I wonder if he realizes this is our first time ever eating out. Well, unless he counts the hot dog cart outside of the MET.

Reaching into my desk drawer, I pull out my green purse, trade my heels for my sneakers, and grab my coat as I walk around my desk. “Let’s go, husbando!” I tease.

I wasn’t expecting him to look down at me in surprise or with so much interest. It’s almost dazzling until I remember there’s an audience.

“What are you in the mood for, my love?” He asks, smirking as I close my door. Ah, he wants to play house for our nosy coworkers. Wrapping my hand around his arm, I smile as we join a few others heading towards the elevators.

Since we have an audience, just as we did the last time he used that particular term, I ignore the butterflies it stirs. They have clearly gotten lost and landed on the wrong person.

“I think I can go for anything, baby. What about the lunch counter down the street,” I ask as we join the first wave of lunch goers waiting at the elevator bank.

His gaze snaps to mine, surprise lighting his eyes as he nods his head side to side. “If that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I was hoping for anything that isn’t a burger. I’ve had far too many since moving here. But I’m sure I can find something else at this counter place.”

I smile. “Hey, the lunch counter is a local institution, but if you want, we can walk to the west side and have ramen today. And, tomorrow, you can pick what you want. My treat.”

He gives me the side eye as the elevator doors open, and after a few people get off, we wedge ourselves in behind several others. When we stop at the next floor, three more people pack on, but when the buzzer sounds, one steps off.

At this point, my back is pressed firmly against Michel, but there’s nothing I can do about it. And, as we stop at every floor between ours and the lobby, my back is getting warmer and warmer

It isn’t helped when he leans down near my ear, and begins rapidly whispering in French. “If you’re trying to win me over, Winnie, you don’t have to go to such lengths.”

I know he’s joking about the situation, but I’m already in a weird mental space. “I beg your pardon?” I return. “These are close quarters as you can clearly see.”

A shiver races down my spine as he chuckles, putting a hand on my shoulder, and continues to tease me. “No, love. You won’t find me complaining about this. I was merely referring to—”

“Oh, my goodness! Will we ever get off this thing!” Someone unexpectedly exclaims from the back of the elevator as we stop at another floor.

Someone else jumps in with, “I know. It’s hot in here, and we have a guy over here trying to chat up a woman in Italian or something. Let me off this thing!”

As a few titters go up, I shift nervously, but yeah..still absolutely nowhere else to go besides Michel’s extremely firm chest. Just what kind of work out routine does he do? Once again, I clear my throat, as I force my mind away from the memory of my very close contact with said chest.

Michel chuckles as he continues in French. “I meant, you were trying to impress me with the ‘husbando’ bit, and now you’re suggesting ramen. If you keep this up, you may have a lunch date every day.”

I chuckle in response, as I remember his admission that he had been an anime fanatic as a child. And, although my Japanese is terrible since I haven’t watched nearly as many J-dramas as I have C-dramas, I still use it to reply, “It’s my pleasure, boss.”

When his breath hitches in his chest, I feel it against my back. Suddenly, I’m not sure if the thumping I’m feeling is coming from my heart, or his.

“You didn’t tell me you speak Japanese,” he responds in gently accented Japanese.

“Only enough to order our ramen,” I respond with a smile.

He suddenly sniffs comically, and whines in typical anime fashion, “Hold on, I think I might actually cry!”

I gently attempt to elbow him in the stomach as I huff a laugh, but he catches my elbow and doesn’t let go. Instead, he begins rubbing my arm, releasing another set of butterflies. Seriously, if they can’t tell real interest from acting, I’m in big trouble.

He says something else in Japanese, which I don’t catch—again because my Japanese is terrible, and not because I was distracted by the way his breath was hitting my ear.

“Oh, come on! If she was interested, she would have said so already. Please give it up so the rest of us can peacefully travel the next six floors in this sweatbox. Kudasai!” They finish, thanking us in Japanese.

The elevator titters again, and at that Michel drops my elbow. I hate that he’d feel ashamed by the loud mouth in the back, so I crane my neck around in the direction of the voice. I couldn’t be more surprised to see Ben’s tall frame as he smirks down at his phone. I can just make out his sling inside the coat slung over his shoulders.

What’s he doing here? Isn’t he on leave?

When he looks up and catches my eye with a wink, I realize he’s teasing me and Michel.

Shaking my head, I smirk. Game on! “It’s ok, everyone. He’s my husband!” I call out, which is met with gasps by the few people on board who know us.

Ben shocks me yet again by laughing, before responding. “Oh, so that’s it!” Then, in Japanese he says, “You should smile for the man!”

Michel rumbles in laughter, and responds something along the lines of the hero needing to work for his wages. Then, their conversation becomes too rapid for me to keep up.

I reach down and take his hand as the doors finally opens to the lobby, leaving no room for doubt in the minds of those around us. Yet, as his hand closes around mine, I wonder if that was a step too far.

When we’re out of the building, I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. Peering down at me with a little frown between his brows, he asks, “Do you mind? I think it’s an appropriate amount of affection between married friends…”

As we begin walking, I smile at him teasingly. “Do you think Ben is going to stalk us, to make sure we’re holding hands?”

He shakes his head with a little smile of his own. “No, he went the other way. Besides, Ben is the last person on my mind right now.”

I chuckle. “Ok, well come along, my husband. Let’s get some ramen in you. I only have 30 minutes for lunch, and it feels like we spent most of it on that slow elevator.”

Around us, people are speeding by, likely on their own short lunch breaks. When we worked from home, we took more time for lunch since we could answer our emails wherever we were. But, now that we’re back in the office, I know I’d better get back in the swing of things.

Michel scoffs. “Why do you only take 30 minutes for lunch?”

My brows rise as he continues. “Salaried employees are entitled to an hour here. It’s far short of the two hours we can take in France, but it’s still more than what you’re suggesting.”

We stop at a crosswalk, waiting with the rest of the Midtown lunch crowd for the light to change. “I usually have a lot to do,” I respond with a shrug. “The more I can get done during the day, the less I have to take home with me.”

His brows shoot up. “Have you been taking work home?”

As the light changes, I chuckle, recalling the emails that I’m usually responding to long after 5:30. “Of course! Don’t you? How else do you juggle so many cases?”

A look of horror runs across his face. “Not by giving away my time to the company! They pay me for the hours I’m to work. What I do outside of that time is my business, and not to be shared without cost.”

My brows shoot up. “But, what if something isn’t finished, and you’re on a tight deadline? What if you feel you aren’t able to make your deadline?”

He scoffs as we maneuver around people staring up at the skyscrapers around us. “That’s when I have a meeting with my superior and tell him that he will need to lessen the load or adjust his expectations on the time line. Simple.”

I gasp, nearly stopping in my tracks, but he gives my hand a gentle tug as he glances at me. I frown as I start walking again, my steps much slower. “How many times have you been fired?” I ask, uncertainly.

“Never!” He exclaims, his thick brows jumping up in surprise. “Why would they fire me for being honest?”

For the first time ever, I stop dead in my tracks in the middle of a New York City street, and ignoring all the teeth sucking and sighing, I dissolve into a fit of laughter. “Never!” I gasp. “That’s unbelievable. So, these conversations happen in your mind, then, like the rest of us?”

He looks truly perplexed, though a bemused smile lights his face. “No. That’s what I say.”

When I start giggling, he takes me by the shoulders, and steering me through the flood of people, we stop at the side of a building out of the way of traffic. “Why are you laughing? It’s the way things are done.”

I look up at him now, completely baffled. “You’re really serious!”

He nods sharply. “My dear, there could be a million cases. I agreed to sacrifice my time, not my life.” He scowls, looking down at me. “I’m coming to understand that isn’t how it works here.”

I shake my head with a sigh. “Unfortunately not.” Pushing off the wall, I merge into traffic once more. When he takes my hand again, I raise a brow, but continue on. “Here, if you dispute your boss, make too much of a fuss, or even express reasonable expectations, you can be let go without cause. They can just say, thank you for your services, have a nice day.”

He rolls his eyes as we skirt a plastic bag blowing by. “That seems like the opposite of freedom to me.”

I smile as we approach the ramen restaurant, glad the line isn’t out the door yet. “If I’ve learned anything while living, it’s that freedom is a construct.”

His brows rise as he crosses behind me, putting me closer to the building, and takes my other hand in his. “You think freedom really doesn’t exist?”

I snort as the line inches forward. “Not the way we’ve learned it. It’s too fluid a concept. It means different things for different people, and no one is interested in what freedom looks like for the next person, because they’re all worried about their own personal freedom.”

Michel smiles, his eyes more blue than grey in the sunlight. “Now, this is an interesting thought. It’s something we learn when studying law, that freedom isn’t an absolute. That there must be limits, or boundaries. A person can do what they want within those limits, but the law itself prevents absolute freedom. Bravo.”

“Right,” I agree, inching forward as someone else leaves the restaurant. “Laws are the only reminders, that almost everyone accepts, to tell us we aren’t just here for ourselves. That we have to think of others. Which is why a place can be more free, or have less restrictions, but there must be restrictions all the same. Or else every night would be the purge.”

Michel watches me intently as we quietly discuss social duties and the balance of free will with conscience. By the time we’ve ordered, paid and sat in the last vacant cubby for two, my stomach is growling, but Michel, as usual, is energized by the topic.

Seeing how animated he becomes when discussing something that interests him will never get old. As it is, his gray blue eyes are aflame, and his hands gesticulate wildly as he accents his point.

“But don’t you agree that since it’s a construct, laws are also meant to intrinsically preserve your freedom too?”

I squint at him as I pull out hand sanitizing wipes. “To some degree, yes.”

“Ah!” He says as I offer him a wipe and he uses it. “Thank you. Take for instance your labor laws—”

As our bowls of ramen arrive, I bend my head to pray, but Michel, takes my hand to pray for the both of us, and immediately resumes afterwards, while I open my chopsticks.

“Your labor laws require a certain amount of time be set aside for every few hours you work. That’s personal time meant for your well being. It’s meant to keep your employer from encroaching on your right to take space, refresh, or handle personal business during the work day.”

“Right,” I say as I chew, “but, it’s still in the middle of the work day. They need things done when they need it, not on my time.”

I watch in amazement as Michel inhales his noodles then smirks. “These are delicious. And, you’re right, that’s what the employer believes, which is why the law needs to exist in the first place. Let me ask you something. What are the official hours of your work day?”

“Hm. 8:30am to 5:30pm, but I’m supposed to have a one hour lunch break.”

“Mmm. Mmmhm,” he acknowledges slurping his noodles. “So..you’re there, or tied to work for nine hours a day, but you’re meant to work 40 hours in a week, which you know, because your pay stub every two weeks says you’re paid xyz for 80 hours, yes? Then, what happens to the one hour lunch break? Those extra five hours per week meant for lunch are unpaid. And your laws say, your employer is not entitled to that unpaid time.”

My mouth drops at the realization he’s right. “I hadn’t considered that. So..all of that time when I was returning early to get more work done..”

“You were gifting them time, that they have not repaid you for,” he says, eyeing me over his empty bowl.

“Ha!” I scoff. “This whole time I thought I was just being a good worker. I thought if I just kept my head down, did my work..proved myself. I guess, I’m the fool for that one.”

He shakes his head, as he begins his second bowl of soup. “No,” he finally says. “A bit naive, but not a fool. A fool would take this knowledge in and continue doing things the same way.”

Where I would have been offended by his candor before, now I smirk, recognizing his frankness for what it is. It’s his way of showing he cares.

“Well, I certainly can’t keep going on like this. I guess that means I’m also reconsidering leaving work at work. Ugh,” I groan. “Brad is really going to hate this. He already complained today that I haven’t been helping enough with his work lately.”

Michel levels me with a serious gaze as I drink my soup. “How long are you going to let that go on, Winnie?” He asks, as I silently consider him.

I sigh. “Michou, the moment I say something, things always go sideways. As long as I don’t rock the boat, he has nothing to say.”

Michel looks down at my empty bowl, and stacking his on top of mine, he carries our utensils to the drop area as I walk to the door. As we step out into the bracing wind and begin walking towards the office, he takes my hand and tucks it into the pocket of his coat.

“Consider this, Bronwyn. “You’ve kept quiet and hoped that things will get better for how long now? And, maybe speaking up will cause other trouble and hardship, but the only difference is that it will be a change from the trouble and hardship you’ve already been suffering.”

I quietly consider his words as we stop at a light. “That’s possible, but usually it’s the nail that sticks up that has to be hammered. Is it worth making noise for the slight chance that it will make a difference, when it could certainly mean getting demoted or fired?”

Using his free hand, he reaches up to push a long tendril of hair behind my ear. “Staying quiet and hoping, probably works just as often as speaking loudly doesn’t work. But, at least when you’re loud people know there’s a pain point.”

The light changes and we cross the street with the rest of the crowd. “You likely should have been promoted at some point to VP, but Brad has occupied that position, and hasn’t been promoted to Senior VP. Ever wonder why?”

My brows lift in response. “No, I hadn’t considered it.”

Michel nods as I pull him to a stop outside of Soccorso’s. The famous Italian bakery is always bustling around this time of day, but the line is pretty short. “I just want you to try something, but I’m listening.”

He moves to stand behind me as the line inches forward. “Well, have you considered that he couldn’t be advanced as long as he wasn’t doing his own job?”

I look up at him stunned. “No! Is that what Ben said?”

Michel chuckles, “Believe it or not, darling, we don’t discuss work when we’re together. No. This is just my observation over the last two and a half months. But, if I see it, I’m sure Ben has long seen it.”

He nudges me forward as the line moves behind me. I turn around to ponder his words as he continues. “Ben likely also sees that you’re either too tired to give your own job 100% or you’re really outshining your boss, and that’s why Brad hasn’t promoted you to Senior Director”

Wow. “I don’t know how I missed that. So, you think I’ve actually been hurting myself and Brad, by not putting my foot down.”

“There has certainly been no reward in it, for either of you.” He shrugs when I spin to look up him, his eyes sympathetic. I groan as I face forward. It’s certainly something to think about.

When his arm falls across my shoulders, I glance up at him in surprise as he comes to stand beside me. “So, why are we here, munchkin?”

“Wh-hat?” I sputter with a laugh as his eyes smile back at me. “Munchkin? Since when am I a munchkin?”

He holds up a hand and looks at his nails. “As if you don’t know that you’re short.”

“I’m of average height for a woman,” I elbow him in the side as he chuckles. “And we’re here for the best Italian cookies and hot cocoa in New York City.”

“I’m glad you have limited it to the city and not the world,” he teases, eyes sparkling.

“I have no interest in debating cookies today, that’s why,” I cheekily respond, which is met with laughter. “Anyway, what was up with Ben earlier? I know he was teasing, but it’s not like him.”

I immediately regret my question when the teasing light leaves his eyes. “I suppose he wanted to see how we would react. Why does a person tease anyone he likes?”

“Really?” I scrunch my nose, since it seemed there was more to it than lighthearted fun. “Ok.”

We move through the doors, and it’s much quieter and warmer in the narrow counter shop. As the line moves forward, I thought the subject was dropped until Michel clears his throat.

“Actually, he may have wanted to see your reaction to being teased about our marriage.”

I quirk a brow, but before I can ask, he’s already giving an explanation. “Ivette liked to play games, and that continued even after we were married.”

His gaze skitters away, and when he nervously taps the back of my hand as he speaks, I realize his ears are reddened with embarrassment, not the cold. “When I would show up at her modeling firm to pick her up, she would pretend to be a single woman, and I would have to flirt with her to get her attention. Depending on the mood she was in, she would either be into it or…”

He clears his throat as we move forward. “Sometimes it would get me in trouble when she let people form the wrong idea of my being so..persistent? And..well she would refuse to bail me out, even going so far as to say she didn’t know me.”

He sighs heavily, as my mind whirs, trying to figure out why someone would be so cruel. I give his hand a squeeze, because I can imagine the fun at some point turned into an awful game of roulette.

“That must have been painful. I’m sorry you went through that.”

Michel’s chuckle is laced with embarrassment. “Yes, well. I’m going to guess you passed Ben’s test with flying colors. Although, I’m going to kill him when I get back to the office,” he mutters.

As we’re the next in line I pull out my wallet. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing that a few cookies can’t cure. Let’s get a bunch and give some to Sam. She’ll make sure he’s properly tortured for the rest of the afternoon..”

His laugh is a real one this time, and I smile in response, while internally wondering why anyone would ever want to deny knowing him.

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