Broken French - Natasha Boyd Page 0,169

mom. I didn’t realize how much I’d needed her to answer.

“Darling. This is a nice surprise. To what do I owe the honor?”

“Do I really call you that infrequently?” I cleared my throat and smiled, relief loosening my whole body.

She laughed. “No, but you never call me during the work day. How’s it going over there?”

“It’s great. You knew me better than I knew myself, getting me the contact there. It’s perfect for me. I love the people. I love the preservation projects. I do miss being creatively challenged. But I’ll find a way to get back to that somehow.”

“I’m thrilled. But that’s not why you called me, is it?”

I blew out a breath. “No. Mom … how did you know Dad was the one?”

There was silence. “Mom?”

“Yes, darling. Sorry. You just took me by surprise. I don’t know specifically. None of it made any sense. He was ‘old Charleston.’ I was an immigrant outsider. You know Charleston. So progressive in so many ways, so closed and backwards in others, especially letting newcomers in. But our love was … well, it was otherworldly. On paper, everyone’s eyebrows were raised. But for us it felt bigger than anything. But what clinched it was when he said he would move and leave his friends and his family and the city where he grew up and his job. Everything. Just for a chance to be with me because I had an internship that would take me to London for six months with a chance to begin a career there.”

“And you didn’t go? You gave up your career for him?”

“Oh, honey. It was a different time. And no. I had the same career. Just … different.”

“But not the internationally renowned one you could have had—”

“Josephine.” She let out a sigh. “The point is. It didn’t matter because I had your father. The point was he would give up everything for me, the way I would for him. But if you’re asking me for my blessing because you want to give up your job for this Frenchman, then I’m afraid I’ll have to advise you to take a long moment.”

“Did you feel the same way about Nicolas?”

“No.”

“Then why did you marry him?”

“I was lonely. You know what it’s like at my age. Well you don’t, but it’s always better to be a part of a couple than be a single woman. Everyone is kind at first, but then you stop getting invited to things when you’re single and ready to date. And when it got to that stage, it was obvious I needed to settle down. Nicolas was … he was kind. A bit flashy. But kind. I know now he was telling me all the things I needed to hear to trust him, but I was sad, and lonely, and you were so lonely. And I thought if we felt like a complete family again then you would be happier.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes.

“Not that it was your fault, at all,” she hurried on. “It was me. All me. We—we had some good times, didn’t we? With Nicolas?”

“Yeah. I guess. We did.”

“Look, whatever is going on with you, I need you to know I want you to follow your heart. Even if it leads you to France. You know that would probably make your dad happier than anything.”

“Mom—”

“It would. He always wanted to go back and see if we could trace back his history. And don’t you worry about me.”

“Mom. I’m not leaving. I love Charleston. My friends are here. You’re here. I love my new job.”

“But you love him too.”

“Yes.” I blew out a breath. “So much. So much my heart feels too big for my chest. And when I thought it was over, I was … devastated. And now he’s here.”

“Josie? Really? He came for you?”

“Don’t get carried away, he came here to check on his yacht.”

“Did he bring his daughter?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe not. But don’t you think maybe he was using the yacht as a reason to do what he really wanted to do?”

I scrunched up my face and my free hand. “Yes, Mom. Yes.” I unclenched everything with the admission. “That’s why I’m calling. I … Mom, I’m scared. He’s broken. God, he’s so broken. I love him, and he’s even admitted he doesn’t trust his feelings. But now he’s saying he loves me. I know if I do this I’ll need to take a leap of faith, and I’m asking

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