Chapter 19
Nineteen
JOSEPHINE
“Mom, why is this suddenly such an issue?”
Even from thousands of miles away, I can see my mother’s pinched, disapproving expression. It’s the one she uses when discussing ethics violations and making political commentaries. There have only been a handful of times when I’ve been on the receiving end of it, and why would I?
I didn’t sneak out, pick fights or date boys with lip rings. What parent wouldn’t want a physics nerd daughter with a 4.0 GPA and no sex life? Me stepping off the path I designed for myself—with her careful guidance, of course—is unprecedented. I can tell she’s been trying to play it cool, but beneath that calm facade, Mom is panicking.
“Honey, we’re just worried.” She says “we” as if my father isn’t so unobservant it didn’t take him two months to notice Mom had traded in his car for a newer model (in a different color). I would be surprised if he’s realized I’m not in the house, never mind that I’ve left the country. Since I left, the only communication I’ve received from him was a picture of his breakfast with an egg emoji.
It’s an effort not to make a noise that betrays my impatience. “I’m healthy, and happier than I’ve ever been. Me coming to France was your idea, remember?”
Mom isn’t as successful in holding back her sigh. “Frankly, I thought you would get bored by now, Jo. What do you do with your time apart from working with that little girl? You have such a brilliant mind, sweetheart. I’d hate to see you lose momentum and waste your potential.”
We’re going in circles. We’ve had this same discussion over and over again, and she still doesn’t get it. I don’t know what I want to be, or where I want to do it, or who I want to do it with. All I’m sure of is that I didn’t like my life before, and I do now. Complicated relationship with Ellis and currently bruised heart aside, I’m happy .
Or maybe I’m not being clear enough. Maybe I’m tiptoeing around her feelings like I’ve always done, trying to make everyone happy. Except now, I’m including myself. It’s starting to seem like a losing battle.
“I have to go, Mom,” I tell her, my chest hollow.
“Jo—”
“We’ll talk soon. Love you!” And, ignoring the answering noise of protest to this pronouncement, end the call.
I stare blankly at the darkening sky outside my bedroom window. My relationship with my mother used to be so easy. We never fought, never disagreed. I looked up to her. Now, it’s like we’re speaking different languages, and the only thing we get from talking is more frustrated.
Granted, I’m not exactly of sound mind to be managing this situation at the moment. After a day spent being tired and overly emotional about everything, my period arrived just after I fled from Ellis.
That , at least, I’m confident in being upset over, because the mixed signals are giving me whiplash.
One moment, it’s like we’re on the verge of our situationship turning into an actual relationship. The next, he’s raising his voice to his mother because she tries to prod him into taking me on a date.
God forbid.
I didn’t go down for dinner. About an hour after we typically eat, Zoe came up bearing a wrapped sandwich from the village’s small patisserie, an obvious offering from Ellis. She crawled onto the bed with me and rested her head on my lap, accepting pieces of bread—ones untouched by meat, cheese, vegetable or any condiments—and humming with pleasure as I combed my fingers through her hair.
We talked quietly about what she wants to do next week, and when she informs me she wants to cuddle and sew with me, I can’t even attribute the burning behind my eyes to the hormone cocktail I’m currently marinating in. Where her father twists me up in knots, my relationship with Zoe has always been easy. The two of us seem to move at a similar pace, and enjoy the same things. It’s hard to believe how lonely I felt even a few months ago, when now I have a small, temperamental friend following me every minute of the day.
Zoe gets bored with me eventually and goes off to join her Papa. It’s only when I hear their footsteps in the hall and the typical bedtime battle underway that I sneak downstairs and scavenge every last snack that I can from the kitchen, grateful not to encounter Maude.
I’ve been hiding ever since, and it’s only the knowledge that Ellis will soon be turning up in hopes of having sex—which is firmly off the table tonight—that motivates me to pick up my phone again.
Josephine: Hey, going to have to bail on tonight. I’m sorry. Not feeling great.
There. He doesn’t need the gory details, and I can cry, eat and sulk in peace .
I toss my phone away, my bottom lip trembling. Knowing I’m being weepy and hormonal does nothing to help me rein it in. This thing with Ellis was timed horribly. The first day of my period is always the worst, and all I want to do is stay in bed, binge movies that make me cry and wear my favorite unflattering pair of Weston University sweatpants.
Thankfully, tomorrow is Saturday. Normally, I get up with Zoe and Ellis anyway, but this time I intend to take advantage of my day off and sleep until noon. They can entertain Maude on their own. I’m not a part of their family, and it’s time I remembered my place.
I’m just on the point of selecting a sufficiently sappy movie from the pre-downloaded selection on my laptop, when a quiet knock sounds on the balcony door and Ellis appears a moment later, looking concerned. He looks even more handsome than usual, with his hair rumbled, and dressed in his own pair of Weston sweats.
“I wanted to check on you,” he says gently, brow furrowed in concern as he sits on the edge of the mattress. “You’re sick?”
“In a manner of speaking.” I wrinkle my nose and gesture vaguely to my lower half. “Sorry.”
If he’s phased by this, there’s no evidence of it in his expression as he eyes the snacks I assembled from the kitchen. “Don’t apologize. Do you need anything?”
Pushing myself up a little more against the headboard, I fiddle with the hem of my ratty tank top. “I’m okay, I think.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I have painkillers in my room, and—oh. Your water bottle is empty. Let me fill it for you.” He goes to take the favorite blue bottle off the bed beside me, but I put my hand on it to stop him.
“I’m okay, Ellis. Seriously. You don’t have to do this. I wasn’t expecting you to… to lie here and spoon me or something. You signed up for fun and sexy, not hormonal and we epy.” As he made clear a few hours ago, I am not his girlfriend.
Ellis gives me a withering look and tugs the water bottle free before turning on his heel and vanishing out into the hall. A few minutes later, he comes back with the bottle filled, ice and fresh lemon slices. He noticed that I like it that way?
“I had this in my room as well.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a fancy looking French chocolate bar.
Though I’m determined to be difficult, my lips pull into an unwilling, sad little smile. “Do you have a secret stash? Have you been holding out on me?”
He tosses it into the pile of other snacks beside me and sits back on the edge of the bed. “It was just the one, I’m afraid. Though, now I’m curious if you have one.”
“I’ll never tell.” I wince as I’m hit with another nasty cramp, pulling my knees up closer to my chest. Ellis stares at me for a long moment, expressionless, and finally gets to his feet. “Thank you for this. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promise, knowing full well I’ll only be emerging from this room for more food when the supply runs dry.
Ellis isn’t leaving, though. He kicks off his shoes and, without a word of explanation, walks around to the other side of the bed.
As I blink at him, confused, he shoves the snack mountain down toward my feet. “What are you doing?”
“Sitting with you.” He pulls back the covers and gets in beside me, fussing with the pillows behind his back and even reaching over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table.
I gape, opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. “This is against the rules,” I blurt out, heat rushing to my cheeks. It makes no sense. On a regular basis, this man walks into my room, tells me to take my panties off and bend over. I do it, call him daddy and beg for his cock without a second thought. Now, we’re sitting side by side, fully clothed, and I feel so much more vulnerable.
He picks up a bowl of popcorn and helps himself to a handful, peering over at my laptop screen. “What are we watching?”
What is happening?
“Ellis,” I snap, getting irritated. “If you’re feeling obligated?—”
“I’m not feeling obligated, Josephine.” He takes another handful of popcorn and leans across to use the track pad on my computer to select Little Women .
I hit pause before the opening credits can begin, filled with the bizarre desire to laugh and cry at the same time— freaking period . “Why?” I demand. “The last time I checked, I’m not your girlfriend. That’s why you snapped today, right? Because your mother thinks we’re together?” I let out a hard laugh. “Well, now she knows that’s not the case. You’d better leave before she comes in here to borrow a comb and gets confused about our relationship status.”
The words are spilling out without pause. For as long as I can remember, I have been stuffing down my hurt or anger instead of making others uncomfortable. I don’t remember ever just telling someone how I felt, or calling them on their crappy behavior. I have no idea what makes this different, or why I’m now capable of doing it, but I’m proud of myself .
“It’s shitty, Ellis. Really freaking shitty. One minute you’re telling me this means something, you’re trying to get me to break the rules and being sweet to me, and further complicating this already super complicated situation. Then the next you’re losing your temper when your mother tries to play matchmaker.”
“Josephine—” he begins, an apologetic note to his voice, and I don’t want to hear it.
“No. I’m not done,” I snap, sitting sideways so I can glare at him. “You’ve been giving me mixed signals from the first night we met. I know you have some stuff you’re working through, and that you don’t want a relationship, but if that’s the case, you need to stop acting like we’re in one when it suits you and pushing me away when it doesn’t.”
My tirade is fading away, replaced by a bone deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with running around after Zoe all day, and everything to with having feelings for a man who is pretty much the definition of emotionally unavailable.
Ellis’s throat works, as though he’s having difficulty swallowing, his expression crestfallen. For some reason, this show of emotion only makes the ache in my chest worse. He has feelings for me, but he doesn’t want to .
Tentatively, he reaches out and takes my hand. “You’re right.” He nods to himself, as though confirming what he just said. “I’m so sorry, Josephine. This wasn’t… I haven’t handled this well.”
I press my lips together, trying to keep myself from either crying or yelling at the beautiful man staring at me with regret in his eyes. Honestly, I have no idea what will come out if I try to open my mouth right now, but it won’t help the situation.
Ellis continues, his hand still gripping mine. “I hate that I’ve hurt you, hate that I’ve become the sort of man who is so wrapped up in his own issues that he causes someone else’s. I want to do better for you. You deserve better.”
I shake my head miserably. “I can’t keep doing this, Ellis. It’s too much. Things have gotten way more intense than we meant them to, and I’m getting so mixed up over what’s real and what isn’t.”
At my words, something ignites behind Ellis’s pale eyes. “ We are real, Josephine. When I said I wanted to do better, I didn’t mean to go back to the arrangement we had. We both want more, so let’s be more.”
I still, replaying his words in my mind as if I’ve somehow heard him wrong. I haven’t, though, and now I’m torn between bursting with joy that he’s offering me everything I’ve ever wanted from him, and building a ten foot, barbed wire topped fence around my heart. Even that might not be enough. At this stage, I might need to surgically remove him.
“I don’t want to force you into a relationship.” My voice is hollow with exhaustion. “This isn’t an ultimatum.”
His thumb smooths over my knuckles. “Of course it isn’t mon amour . It isn’t your nature. You are hardworking and kind and loyal. You treat my daughter as if she were your own and make friends with my cranky mother and make me feel more myself than I have in a long time.” Tears fill my eyes as Ellis continues, his voice unbearably gentle. “ That is why I want to be in a relationship with you, Josephine.”
“You said you didn’t have space in your life for me,” I whisper brokenly, recalling the what he told me back in Connecticut, just before we came here.
Ellis smiles slightly. “In my defense, I had no idea you would make room for yourself. Nor did I realize how much of a burden is lifted when you have someone who cares as much as you do.”
Damn it. Damn it. I don’t want to be the girl who throws herself joyfully into his arms and tells him all is forgiven.
“Well, what about Weston?” I demand, fighting to keep ahold of all the reasons he had.
As if his job is of no real importance, Ellis shrugs. “We have at least four months to go until that becomes an issue. You were only a few credits shy of graduating, and I am not above sneaking around for a few more months if it avoids putting either of us in an uncomfortable position. And as for Zoe, because I’m sure you’ll bring her up next, I’ll just say that I would like to be sure we’re on very solid footing before introducing her to our relationship. For what it’s worth, though, I think she would be delighted to keep her Jojo. ”
Okay. That’s… Well, that’s fair. Really fair.
I’m just resuming the mental scramble for another thing to throw in our way when Ellis sighs. “Nothing needs to be resolved tonight, mon amour . I know I’ve given you quite enough reason to be wary.” His gaze darkens, and my heart stalls. “That being said, I would like to make it clear that I have every intention of making you mine.”
I nod— because what else am I supposed to do —and Ellis settles back against the pillows, apparently satisfied.
“You’re not leaving?” I ask in surprise, still trying to work through the mess of emotions I’m feeling right now.
He shoots me a tired look. “Let me take care of you, Josephine. Please.”
It’s the please that does it for me.
I nod.
There are probably some really badass, strong women out there who could tell a man like Ellis Delvaux “no” but I am not one of them. Or, at least, I’ve exhausted my supply of denial for the night. Maybe it’s just because I want him to stay.
Ellis leans over me and takes the computer, pulling it into his lap. “Come here,” he murmurs.
I obey without complaint, scooting over the mattress to curl into his side, my head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around my side. Ellis restarts the movie and my tension begins to drain away. It’s so nice to be held like this.
“ Little Women , huh?” I observe, cuddling closer. Warmth floods through me when he kisses my hair, dragging me more securely against him.
He chuckles. “I thought it was on theme.”
We both watch as the character of Jo appears on screen. “Your dad jokes are getting worse.”
Ellis only reaches for the closest snacks. “Salty or sweet?”