Page 28 of Cowgirls Love French Kisses
Léa nods vigorously. “And you can’t be scared, because the prince is never scared.”
I lean in, conspiratorially. “What if I told you that sometimes, even princes feel a little scared?”
Her eyes widen with the revelation, but then she places her tiny hand atop mine. “That’s okay, Uncle Mathieu. Even if you’re scared, you can still be brave. And make sure you tell the princess how you feel, or she won’t know.”
Her childlike view of love, I now realize, is not so childish at all.
“Actually, Léa,” I say, a newfound resolve blossoming within me, “that might just be the best advice I’ve ever received.”
She beams. “When you find her, the princess I mean, can I play with your kids?”
“You’ll be the first one they chase,” I promise, and she claps her hands together like it’s the best news of the year.
The late spring evening unfurls gently around us as the garden buzzes with the soft sounds of family. I'm half listening to the chatter, half lost in thought, Léa's words circling in my mind like bees around a bloom.
I'm pulled back by a touch on my shoulder, and I look up to see Marie-Christine and Éliane eyeing me with a gentle smirk.
“Was our little Léa pestering you, Mathieu?” she teases, settling into the chair beside me.
“Not at all,” I assure her. “She was actually giving me some—” I might regret saying this, “—love advice.”
Éliane’s eyebrows arch in amusement. “Oh really? And what pearls of wisdom did she impart?” Her tone is light, but her eyes are soft.
I recount Léa's advice, and as I do, Anne-Laure joins us. They listen, their faces a mirror of delight and tenderness.
“She told me to be brave,” I say, “and that I need to go on an adventure to find my princess, one which should culminate with me declaring my love.”
The sisters exchange a look, a silent communication I've seen a thousand times. “Sounds like she's onto something,” Anne-Laure muses, her voice laced with laughter.
Éliane’s hand brushes my shoulder. “Léa's got a point,” she says, her voice threaded with a quiet conviction. “You’ve been through a lot,” she swallows hard, “but we all know you’re destined for someone.”
“Never doubted that for a second,” Marie-Christine pops up out of nowhere the way big sisters have a tendency to do.
“I’m getting right on that.” I clap each of their shoulders. “Next destination: Destiny.”
With that, I walk over to Dad on the other side of the garden, because the last thing I need right now is a reminder of the past. Time to think about what’s on the horizon.
Correction:Whois on the horizon.
Annie.
As the night dances on, and games of horseshoes,pétanque, and badminton filling the air, I sketch a plan. It's time to lay the ghost of the past to rest and take on this adventure.
The hugs and kisses goodbye meld into a single moment and I’m off, striding away from the family home, the chatter and clinking of dishes fading behind me.
“It's time,” I whisper to the silent streets. “Time to step up. She won't just come to you. She doesn’t even know you’re there. She has to know.”
My mind is convinced, but my heart has planted an anvil at the bottom of my stomach.
This needs a plan. And that’s the one thing I don’t have yet.
CHAPTER12
Annie
“So, 'piece of cake'is something easy,” I explain, sketching a rough drawing of a cake on the board. “Not actually eating cake, though that's easy, too. But spilling the beans is when you share a secret. You know, like letting the cat out of the bag.”
“The cat out of the bag?Incroyable,” mutters the CEO of a big construction company that I cannot pronounce to save my life. “A language full of incomprehensible expressions.”
