Page 75 of The Carver

When I met his stare, he looked exactly as I expected. Staring at me so hard it was like the first time he saw me across the bar all over again. If his mother hadn’t been there, he’d probably kiss me or bend me over the table.

I looked at his mother again.

“Then it sounds like you’ve found the right man.”

Things had progressed far quicker than I’d wanted for a brand-new relationship, but we were too passionate and volatile to remain stagnant. We raced down the highway in a Maserati from the moment we met—and we still hadn’t stopped for gas.

I didn’t respond to that, too afraid to acknowledge what she said, especially in front of Bastien.

“Do you want children?”

“Mom.” Bastien intervened again. “Don’t ask her that.”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s a harmless question.”

“It’s not harmless,” he said. “It’s packed with your agenda. You aren’t as discreet or clever as you think you are.”

Bastien and I hadn’t talked about that. I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore. A couple months ago, I could have pictured myself with a brand-new baby in that big house, but now, kids were the last thing on my mind. We still had hundreds of milesof highway in front of us. I let her question die on the air between us because I really didn’t know what I wanted.

Delphine returned to her food, sidestepping the tension that she’d caused.

I looked at my food, but I was aware of Bastien’s stare. Felt the intensity of his look. Felt the way he reached across the table and grabbed me without touching me.

After dessert and coffee, we said our goodbyes in the entryway.

I thanked his mother for dinner even though she’d done nothing to prepare it—except pay for it.

“It was lovely to meet you, Fleur.” The night started with a handshake, but this time, she gave me a hug and squeezed me tight.

I didn’t expect her affection, not because she was a stiff woman, but because I didn’t deserve it. I was practically a stranger to her, a woman who was still technically married to someone else while shacked up with her son. “You too, Mrs. Dupont.”

“It’s Delphine.” She pulled away and gave me a smile. “I expect to see you again because my son wouldn’t have brought you over if he didn’t want you around for a long time.” Her smile remained, enduring and kind. “And I’m sorry if I asked too many inappropriate questions. When you get old, your mouth has a mind of its own.”

“It’s okay,” I said with a chuckle. “And you aren’t old. When I first saw you, I couldn’t believe you were Bastien’s mother.”

She lit up like a firework at those words, giving a laugh as she patted me on the shoulder. “That’s sweet of you to say. But I can’t take all the credit—not when my doctor and my aesthetician deserve it more.”

“Bye, Mom.” Bastien kissed her on the cheek before he grabbed my hand. “Thanks for dinner. Set up a meeting with Pierre so I can interrogate him the way you just interrogated my girl.” He winked as he guided me to the car and opened the back door. He gave me his hand and helped me inside before he shut the door.

Delphine remained in the thirteen-foot-high entryway, watching her son walk around the vehicle with a slight smirk on her lips.

When Bastien got into the back seat beside me, the driver went through the gate and entered the quiet street that was devoid of traffic. The pavement shone from the rain that had fallen sporadically in the last few hours.

The stress was gone from my shoulders, and I suddenly felt light, like the worst had passed.

Bastien looked out the window, relaxed in the leather armchair, the ink from his tattoo visible past the end of his sleeve. “She likes you.”

“She does?” I asked.

“You would know if she didn’t.”

“She seems too classy to be confrontational.”

“She’s the daughter of an arms dealer, the wife of a heroin distributor, the mother of two criminal sons. Trust me, she has no problem being confrontational when she needs to be.” He turned away from the window and looked at me. “All you had to do was be yourself.”

“I don’t think she liked the fact that I was married…that I am married, technically.”

“She doesn’t,” he said. “But that’s not a reason to dislike you.” He looked out the window again, and we spent the rest of the drive in comfortable silence. We passed the historic buildings with Napoleon’s mark still present in the stone. Passed the cathedrals and the statues that made this city the most beautiful on earth.

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