Chapter 6
Six
ELLIS
This week has been nothing short of a nightmare.
I’m grateful for the opportunity, truly I am. But between wrapping up projects at work, making arrangements for the house, preparing Zoe as best I can, and worrying about the Josephine situation, the last days before we leave have taken their toll.
Once, I would have relished this kind of adventure. Now, an international flight (leaving at five in the morning) seems likely to end me. If it doesn’t, Josephine will finish the job.
In the two days since we met at Monkey Do , I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the hurt on her face. I felt like enough of a bastard in the days after our night together, even if I was certain a clean break was the best course of action. This is the opposite of that, and now, I have confirmation that I’m even more of an ass than previously thought.
Josephine… merde . She’s lovely. More than lovely. The woman is an angel with fuck-me lips and an ass I would go to war for, and I made her feel unwanted. Me. The man who—only a few days ago—used air freshener as deodorant after forgetting to visit the store .
Lying in bed the night before our departure, try as I might, I couldn’t think of anything other than Josephine. The way she looked at me in that library. Her arms wrapped around me as I carried her through the grocery store, and how my heart was lighter than it’d been in years. The sounds she made when I was inside her. And, worst of all, the rejection and hurt that flashed across her face when I apologized for leading her on .
While I wish I could deny it, that’s precisely what I did. When she gave me her number, I didn’t tell her I wouldn’t use it. No, I just let her go off into the night, allowing her to believe something would happen that patently could not. Not then, and certainly not now.
It’s all a mess, and I only manage to drift off for a few hours before my alarm sounds at three to get the luggage and Zoe out of the house in time to meet the airport shuttle. Predictably, my daughter doesn’t respond well to being woken hours ahead of schedule, and there are a fair few tears as I struggle to get us ready.
When the van arrives, Josephine is already on board. I nearly swallow my tongue when I see the formfitting jumpsuit she chose to fly in, which is casual and comfortable enough, but clings to every curve of her body.
God help me.
Despite my assurances that we could keep things professional, there is no denying the effect she has on me. My cock is at attention from the moment she steps down onto the curb, offering me a tentative smile and kneeling down to speak quietly to a grumpy, teary-eyed Zoe.
It quickly becomes clear that I’m not the only member of this family who is taken with Josephine Sutton. By the time the driver and I finish loading everything up, I climb into the dark van to find the two girls already curled together in a pair of seats, examining a tiny travel game that Josephine brought with her .
They sit together the entire drive to the airport, and when we arrive, Josephine settles a pair of noise canceling headphones and sunglasses on Zoe’s head without me even mentioning it.
Neither of us says much as we check in and make our way through security, with Zoe detaching from Josephine and clinging to me when it comes time to go through the metal detectors. It was only when we settle into stiff, uncomfortable chairs at the gate and my girl sees the plane that she starts to get excited.
“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee,” Josephine tells me quietly, gathering her purse from the seat beside her as Zoe presses her nose to the gate window to see the luggage being loaded up beneath. “Can I get you anything?”
A voice echoes over our heads. “Flight two-six-seven to Paris, Charles de Gaulle, will begin boarding in twenty minutes…”
“Coffee would be great. Thank you.” I reach for my wallet, but she’s already waved me off and turned toward the coffee kiosk situated across the terminal.
A man about my age, sitting across from us, smirks. “Lucky man.” He chuckles as he looks back down at his phone.
It registers, with a dull shock, that he thinks she’s my wife. Why wouldn’t he? We’re traveling together. Zoe and Josephine both have dark hair. To an outsider, we must look like a family. I’m sure this won’t be the only time someone makes this mistake over the coming months.
“Keep your eyes to yourself,” I snarl before I can stop myself. Irrational, territorial anger rising inside me. Even if she isn’t mine, it doesn’t give some asshole the right to look at her.
Like I did.
Wisely, the man doesn’t respond, and I alternate between keeping an eye on Zoe, hopping up and down beside the window, and checking on Josephine’s progress in line. As if she’ll pick up another admirer in the time she’s gone, one who’s observant enough to discern there is no ring on her finger.
She isn’t meant to be mine, that much is obvious, but knowing it doesn’t remove the vicious twist of jealousy whenever I think of her sharing something like we did with someone else. Hell, I can’t even stand the idea of someone looking at her, a failing I certainly never experienced during my marriage.
My only hope is that living in such extreme proximity to her proves we aren’t compatible, and any pitiful desire for more fades away. Jo is twenty-two. Surely she’ll want to go out and party, travel on her weekends and date men in the village. Even if it makes my teeth gnash just to think of it, her moving on to more appropriate prospects would certainly serve a purpose.
I’m so preoccupied I fail to notice Josephine returning until a large coffee cup is pressed into my hand. Offering her a weak smile, I flip back the plastic tab on the top and take a long, greedy draw. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” She doesn’t look at me, busying herself with putting her phone in her bag.
A sour taste fills my mouth. Things will get easier, won’t they? Less awkward? I really do want this to work out, and not just for my job. Better than anyone, I know that good childcare doesn’t grow on trees, and all signs point toward Josephine being excellent with Zoe. If I couldn’t find reliable help in a college town, what are my chances of finding a replacement in the French countryside should Josephine decide this situation is too much for her?
I am the reason my daughter is growing up with only a single father and no mother. The least I can do is keep my lust in check and allow her a positive female role model .
Unable to stand the silence, I glance at Jo’s profile and speak the question that’s been on my mind a lot over the last few days. “You never told me why you’re taking time off school.”
Her thumb nail drags up and down on the plastic rim of the coffee cup, creating a hollow clicking sound. “It’s nothing dramatic.” She lifts a shoulder, eyes following Zoe as she plops down on the ground to watch the luggage handlers with rapt attention.
“I’d still like to know.” I can tell I’m pushing my luck, that asking too much of her right now might result in the walls between us going even higher, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
Bright hazel eyes meet mine. “I did everything I was supposed to, and I still wasn’t happy. This should be a really big, exciting time in my life, but there wasn’t anything in my life to be excited about. I guess it occurred to me that if I didn’t stop and make a change now, I never would.”
Her words, so far from what I was expecting from her, hit me squarely in the chest. The feeling she’s describing is familiar to me, the sense of bewilderment and injustice when you follow the rules to a T, and you find yourself unhappy anyway.
“Not necessarily.” The corner of my lips lifts into a halfhearted smile. I lift my hand to the cavernous room where we’re seated. “Change can take you by surprise sometimes.”
Her gaze falls to her cup. “I?—”
“Papa!” We both look around to see Zoe hopping up and down in excitement, pointing down to one of the luggage handlers who is waving up at her.
“Wave back, mon coeur .” I feel my spirits lift as the first true excitement begins to set in. The circumstances might not be ideal, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and the first chance I’ve had to spend any significant time in my home country since college.
My mother was over the moon when I called to tell her the news, and has already decided to come to the chateau for several weeks once we’re settled.
There was a time when I would get homesick for France, but that faded away with every year I spent in the States. Now, I find myself itching with excitement to get home, to show Zoe all the things and places I loved as a boy… and Josephine. I would very much like to experience those things with the beautiful young woman beside me, too. Not that she’ll be accompanying Zoe and me on outings, I’m sure by the end of her work days she’ll avoid us like the plague, and?—
“Zoe doesn’t have any allergies, does she?” asks Josephine suddenly, interrupting my preoccupation.
I turn, blinking in surprise. “None. Why?”
Reaching into her bag, Josephine holds up a handful of multicolored lollipops, her lips curved in a sheepish smile. “I thought I’d better check with you first. They might help with her ears popping, but the sugar obviously brings its own problems.”
“I’ll take vibrating with energy over screaming in pain any day,” I tell her wryly. Truthfully, there is a handful in my carry-on as well, but I resolve to leave them where they are. The idea of her taking the time to research how to make Zoe’s journey easier makes me feel warm all over. To some, it might seem small, but for years now, I’ve been everything to my daughter. It’s a nice feeling to know there’s someone else who cares. Even if she’s only doing it because she’s paid to.
As soon as the conclusion crosses my mind, though, I dismiss it. Getting paid has nothing to do with it. There’s a difference between taking care of someone and caring about them, and it couldn’t be more clear that after only a few hours in her presence, Josephine already cares about my girl.
As passengers with children are called to board, Zoe gleefully takes her new nanny’s hand, bouncing with excitement as we head toward the plane.
“Here we go,” I say under my breath and Jo looks back, catching my eye.
“Here we go,” she agrees.