Page 17 of The Desire

“We have more important things to talk about right now. I think we both know what the DNA test result is going to say.” She nods as she sips more coffee, trying to get her brain to comprehend what I’m saying. “I have a proposal for you which I think makes sense. You speak fluent French, and I don’t speak more than a few words. Blaise is going to need someone to help him, plus teach him English so he can assimilate into living here and get ready to go to school. I have searched his records, and he is four years old, so we have a bit of time.”

“Wait, what are you saying?” I can see the coffee is starting to take hold as she stands up straighter, paying attention to my words.

“Don’t interrupt, I’m getting to that.” I can’t help my abruptness this morning.

“I never realized how bossy you can be.” The smirk on her face is not doing anything for me.

“You are about to find out.” I push up from my lean on the counter and place my cup in the sink then turn back to her.

“I’ve decided you should come and work for me. Be my translator and English teacher, as well as Blaise’s nanny. I don’t know how to care for a child, and to be honest, I don’t have the time. You will move in with us, care for him, integrate him into this life, and travel with me if needed at any time. I will pay you far more than you currently receive. We will start moving your things in on Monday…” I pick up my phone and push send on the email of the employment letter of offer I drafted early this morning.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not moving anywhere, and I have a job that might not pay well but that I love. And besides that, what makes you think I would want to work for someone so arrogant!” Slamming her coffee cup on the counter, she storms toward me, poking her finger into my chest over and over. “You’ve decided? Who the hell do you think you are? I’m the only one who decides what I do in my life, asshole.”

Both of us freeze at the sound of a little boy’s voice in the distance. Her eyes dart to the door entering the kitchen and back to me. “This discussion isn’t over,” she hisses in an agitated whisper, stepping back from me.

“Open the email I just sent to you, and you’ll see that it is actually over. It’s an offer you can’t refuse,” I say, forcing the point that I won’t take no for an answer on this.

I need her here, end of story!

Both of us move apart and face the doorway, and Adeline enters sheepishly, holding the little boy’s hand in hers, but he’s hiding behind her legs. All I can see is the mop of black curls starting to peek around the side of her and one little eye trying to assess his surroundings.

“Bonjour, Adeline. Bonjour, Blaise.” Elouise’s voice is her normal soft caring voice she used last night when around Adeline. I’ve got to hand it to her, she turned off the attitude she was about to unleash on me like the flick of switch.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Elders, Mademoiselle Elouise,” Adeline timidly replies, but her eyes keep flitting between us, trying to work out what she should do next.

“Please tell her to call me Remington, and she doesn’t need to be scared of me,” I say, looking at Elouise who glares back.

“Debatable,” she mumbles under her breath, before she translates my wishes to Adeline.

“Merci, Remington.” Adeline smiles slightly for the first time as she replies to me.

“Bonjour, Adeline and Blaise,” I say. Hearing his name from me has his little head popping out from behind her legs and his eyes opening wide.

“Papa.” He gasps, and that one word I never thought I would hear referring to me falls from his lips. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up but not in a good way. From sheer fear. This is my worst nightmare standing in front of me.

If I have learned one thing over the years it is never show your fear. Don’t give it any power over you. Push through it. It’s the only way to get to the other side. Take the emotion out of the situation. If I can jump from a plane from ten thousand feet, then I can talk to a four-year-old.

The problem is that he isn’t just any four-year-old, he’s my four-year-old.

Fuck!

Once again Elouise takes the reins and walks forward, creeping down to talk to Blaise at his eye level. I can tell he is listening to her, but his eyes haven’t left mine. It’s like looking at my younger self, and it feels weird, like an alternate universe.

Hearing Elouise’s voice in English brings me out of my daze.

“I have explained that you are happy to meet him and that you are glad he is here to stay with you. He is also hungry, so I told him his papa would get some yummy food for him.” Standing from where she was crouching with Blaise, she takes his hand slowly from Adeline, leading him to the stool at the kitchen counter.

“Rem, food?” she snarks in her not-so-sweet tone. Oh yeah, she’s still pissed at me.

Moving to place the platter of pastries and bottles of juice on the counter where I already had plates and glasses set up, Elouise puts an apple pastry on the plate for Blaise and the innocence of a little boy who is hungry overrides his fear of me.

Taking his first bite, I can see him starting to look around my kitchen which is probably like nothing he has ever seen before. Unless things had changed, Camille didn’t have any television in the mountain cabin, and there is no internet service that far up, so it’s not likely he would have seen anything more than the homes in his village and maybe the occasional trip to Paris, but that is doubtful. And even if he did, then he wouldn’t have visited anything like this place.

Adeline and Elouise are chatting between them, and I’ve had enough of being left out. As I found out last night, Blaise doesn’t speak English, but Adeline does, so she will talk to me even if it is difficult.

“What are you talking about? I’m in this room too and not just a fu…dgsicle statue on the wall.” For fuck’s sake, I can’t even swear in my own home anymore. Seriously!

The giggle that Elouise is trying to keep in just makes me more agitated.

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