“No. Hated the way you made me feel like I could lose control. I pride myself on my control in every arena. And then suddenly it all meant nothing.”
Xavier folded the paper away, and then scooped his linen button down off the floor and held it out to me.
Holding the sheet to my chest, I sat up and took it gratefully. “Thank you.”
“Pleasure will be all mine, I can assure you. Come on. Dauphine waits.” He chuckled then leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead before jogging down the stairs. To my left, my jeans, shirt, underwear, and purse were all neatly on a chair.
I saw what he meant two seconds later when I went to the bathroom and saw that you could see my nipples through the shirt. I shook my head and took it off. After a quick rinse, I slipped on my bra before buttoning up the shirt again and then pulling my jeans on. I opened a small hotel toothbrush and toothpaste package. I wondered when Xavier and I were going to talk about our relationship. It was one thing admitting you loved each other and having amazing sex, but logistically what did that mean? Was there any permanence in that? I wanted to be with him, but there was no way I could see him living here anymore than I could see myself living in the South of France—
I spat the toothpaste out and rinsed my mouth out with water several times so as not to ruin the taste of breakfast. Me, living in the South of France?
All that gorgeous architecture. Amazing food. A wonderful man. A wonderful family. A vision of my mother and Mrs. Pascale sipping wine on her patio and discussing art flashed through my head. But what if we broke up and I’d moved to the other side of the world? My chest grew tight. I’d be alone and I’d feel so dumb.
I grabbed my phone that was tucked into the back pocket of my jeans and sent a group text.
If I moved to France, you would visit right?
Or if I had to come back because it didn’t work out, you wouldn’t think I was an idiot?
Am I crazy to move to France to date a guy?
Not that he’s asked me to go.
I’m freaking out.
I chewed on a piece of skin next to my thumb nail as I waited for an answer to any of the five rapid fire texts I’d sent. There was a knock at the door.
“Josephine? Are you okay?” Xavier asked, concern and something else in his tone.
“I-I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll be right down.”
IS ANYONE AWAKE???? I texted.
Mer: Bitch. Seriously? Is it not enough that you get a hot French billionaire to fall in love with you, but now you have to wake us up at the crack of dawn to crow about it?
Sorry. I’ll wake up for you when you need relationship advice. Please help.
Mer: Go to France and fuck his brains out, and ask him to marry you, and have lots more little Frogs. Yes, we’ll miss you, and yes, we’ll visit. Good night.
Tabs: ditto.
“Ugh!” I muttered. I splashed cool water on my face and finger combed my hair and then opened the bathroom door.
Xavier sat on the end of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, dread on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his face morphing to slight disappointment when he saw I was fully dressed. “Are you sick?”
“No.”
A flush spread across his cheeks, his lips were pale. “Do you want to leave?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “No.”
“Do you … regret anything between us?”
“No. Never. Never,” I repeated with a frown.
“So you still want us, Dauphine and me?”
I blinked and nodded. “Yes. But logistically, I—”
“So what happened in the bathroom? I get the sense you were freaking out?”
“I was. Well, a bit. I asked Meredith and Tabitha what I should do.”
“About what?”
I licked my lips. “Whether I should move to France.” I winced. “So we can date. Not that you’ve asked, and I’d never—”
“And what did they say?”
“What?”
“What did your friends say?”
“Um …” I slipped my phone out my back pocket and unlocked it, then handed it to him.
His eyes grew wide as he read Meredith’s response, and a smirk curved his mouth. When he looked back at me, his eyes were burning. He gave my phone back. “Does anything about your friend’s suggestion freak you out?”