Broken French - Natasha Boyd Page 0,180

on my shirt. Xavier’s shirt. “I-I’m not sad.” She pushed us apart and squeezed out. “I am going to call Mémé!”

She ran into her bedroom to call Madame and left Xavier and me alone. We pulled apart, and he kissed me softly one more time, and then brushed my hair back from my face. “You have made me happier than I ever thought possible. I thank God every day that asshole Tate made you quit so you could come to France. That’s the only reason I haven’t fired his firm already.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Donovan is very nice. And Barbara and a bunch of drafters, engineers, and junior associates. It would horrible for them to lose that project.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “Okay.”

“You’re crazy,” I said.

“Almost certainly.” He kissed me again, then pulled away and lifted my hand. Fumbling with the box, he managed to get the ring out one handed, letting the now empty box fall to the ground. “Is that … a Crogan’s box?” I asked, recognizing the local family and estate jeweler on King Street’s logo. “When—?”

“Yesterday. In fact, I almost thought you saw Dauphine and me. You were on the phone at the window. She helped me pick it out. I don’t know how she kept it a secret at dinner last night. I would have brought a ring from France because I already knew I was going to ask you. But then I thought if we needed it resized, or you wanted to change it—”

“Shut up and put it on my finger, you beast.”

“A beast? You have no idea.” He chuckled and slipped it on my finger.

“God, are you trying to show me how rich you are or something?” I teased, holding it up where the solitaire in an elegant, antique setting of small filigree sent a million light points beaming around the room. “Hmm, though actually,” I brought it close to my face, squinted my eyes, and scrunched up my nose. “There’s no helipad on it. Maybe you aren’t that rich after all.”

He barked out a laugh.

My God, we were both so giddy and sickeningly filled with love and joy. It was a good thing Meredith and Tabs weren’t here. They’d barf. Meredith especially.

Xavier sobered. “Could you love me if I gave it all up tomorrow? The boats, the money, everything, except for you and Dauphine? Because I’d do it. There are a thousand worthy causes. You could pick who we gave my money to. I would retire tomorrow.”

“Yes,” I said, matching him with the same amount of seriousness.

He swallowed. “Je sais,” he said, his eyes growing half-lidded. “I know you would. We would live a simple and happy life on your salary.”

“Let’s not get too hasty. Do you not have a retirement account? Surely, you are not that irresponsible?”

Laughing, he kissed me on the nose. “Yes, we’d be comfortable. But I might get bored not working. But perhaps I can get rid of just the boats.”

“And what would you do with all those amazing people who work for you? I miss them. Besides, I have fallen in love with the Mediterranean. I could learn to tolerate the boats. And what about Sylvie, are you not completing the new boat purchase from her?”

He laughed. “I’ve already paid for it and approved all the designs. I had no reason to come here really, except to come for you. Visiting Sylvie was just a courtesy.” He stood and helped me to my feet. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s eat, and then I want you to show me your city and all the history, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And for dinner, you must take me for … qu’est-ce que c’est que la … ah, shrimp and gits?”

“Grits. Soft polenta.”

His mouth twisted. “Soft polenta …”

“You’ll love it, I prom—actually, you might not.”

He shuddered. “Can you invite your mother?” he asked. “I have spoken to her on the phone, but I would like to meet her in person.”

“You have?”

“Of course! I had to ask for her blessing. I have asked Meredith and Tabitha too. We should invite them to dinner too.”

I pressed my hands together and stared at him in wonder. “Wow, you really were serious.”

“I have asked you to marry me, how is this not serious? Wait, you know this is serious, oui?”

“Oui,” I whispered. “It was just an expression.”

Dauphine flung open her door. “Mémé wants to wish you congratulations. Can my bridesmaid dress be like a mermaid? Please, please, please?”

I locked eyes with Xavier

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