Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance by Natasha Boyd (books like beach read txt) 📕

a way.” His hand grasped mine, and I let him, trying to pretend touching him didn’t matter. “I am a father before everything, Josephine. I let myself forget that for a moment. I am sorry for the way I have been, for what I might have led you to believe. You are correct, my head has been a mess since you arrived. And I cannot afford it. Today showed me that more than anything. There is no space for … us. For some mad, meaningless sex, when it could mean I lose my daughter.”

My breath choked. “Meaningless.”

He dropped his gaze, his eyes filled with regret.

I took a step back. “That’s all I am. I tell you I’m in love with you, and you call me someone to have sex with? Someone you barely know?” My words hardly made it out, my voice was gone. “Call a fucking hooker then. It would have been cheaper. For both of us.”

He flinched like I’d slapped him. He stepped toward me, his eyes screaming things I’d never hear him say, his mouth twisted in anger and … shame. “But even so, please stay.” His hand, rough and warm, slipped around the back of my neck. His gaze flicked to my mouth and then back to my eyes. “For her.”

My breathing grew shallow, betraying the effect he had on me. He was so close. His eyes so tortured. His mixed-messages were breaking me. It hadn’t been meaningless, but he wouldn’t admit it. He wanted me, but he wouldn’t allow himself to.

My fingers closed around his wrist and pulled his hand from my skin because, God knew, I couldn’t think clearly with him touching me, with his eyes conveying wants and needs he’d never allow himself to indulge while he ignored what it had cost me to admit my feelings.

The faint crease between his eyebrows deepened.

I took a shaking breath and lifted my shoulders as if I could ease the splintering inside me. “As I said, I love Dauphine.” Dread at the idea of being around Xavier after what we’d shared was like cement in my stomach. “For her, I’ll stay. For a few days at most,” I added. “To make sure she is okay. But more than that, I cannot do. Please try to stay out of my way, and I will try to stay out of yours.”

Somehow, I made it to the door. “Please have Evan bring my passport and my belongings as soon as possible.” I turned the handle and stopped. Turning my head, I looked him dead in the eyes. The words, “You coward,” danced on my tongue. “I hope one day you realize you are worth loving,” I said instead. Then I slipped through and closed the door behind me.

I raced silently up the stairs to my bedroom and flung myself onto the bed.

Down the hall, I heard Dauphine murmuring in her sleep, and I waited, tense, until I heard Xavier pad quietly up the stairs. He would be with her if she woke. Only then, did I let the full weight of everything hit me.

And when the crying was done, I asked myself how I’d gotten here. Not just emotionally, but physically. So, I’d had a hiccup in my career, I should have stayed in Charleston, in my own life, and fought for what I wanted. I wasn’t mad at Tabitha and Meredith, but I wondered at myself that I’d so easily gone along with this harebrained idea. My mother had been right, I’d run away.

I didn’t know who I was anymore. It was as if the Josie I’d grown up with—the strong, resilient, ambitious, probably-never-going-to-fall-in-love-because-men-couldn’t-be-trusted-Josie—was standing over the bed, arms folded and her foot tapping the carpet, wondering who this weak, lost, version of herself was. “You see,” she said to me, “I was right. Now pull yourself together, we’re going home.”

Sleep when it came was fitful and tortured. In my dreams, Dauphine was still gone, and Xavier wouldn’t talk to me. He’d look through me like I wasn’t even there, even when I tried to pound on his chest to get his attention.

But when I awoke, I was resolved—I could lose my heart, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t lose my sense of pride, and that would surely happen if I stayed. He may not love me, but he’d want to sleep with me again. But come hell or hot Frenchman I was flying home before the week was done.

Chapter Forty-Six

I jerked awake, my neck aching and my eyes gritty as the plane touched down in Charleston. I took a deep inhale and tried to stretch my back, my shoulders stiff and sore. Having forgotten to close my window shade when we took off at seven this morning from New York, midmorning sun shone like a spotlight, making it hard to get my eyes open. Then the pain in my heart took over everything else, and the deep breath I’d just taken shot out of me like I’d been punched.

We taxied to the gate, and everyone around me hummed with the energy of excitement and anticipation. I rested my head against the window and let my eyes adjust, taking long, slow, breaths to ease what was happening inside me. Should I have left? Should I have stayed and fought for the father and daughter I’d fallen so hard for?

Madame had begged me.

Evan had begged me.

Dauphine had begged me.

My eyes burned as they flooded anew. I’d stayed with Dauphine five extra days, trying to give her some semblance of normalcy and joy after her traumatic experience that she still wouldn’t talk about.

Xavier and I had co-existed under the same roof. Strained family meals. Avoided eye contact. Awkward silences.

And then he had all but begged me. And I couldn’t regret the moment of weakness I’d had, allowing myself one last bittersweet goodbye.

The night before I left came back to me. Xavier, Madame, Dauphine, Evan, and I sat around the large worn wooden table under an arbor wrapped in trailing vines,