I didn’t know who I was anymore. It was as if the Josie I’d grown up with—the strong, resilient, ambitious, probably-never-going-to-fall-in-love-because-men-couldn’t-be-trusted-Josie—was standing over the bed, arms folded and her foot tapping the carpet, wondering who this weak, lost, version of herself was. “You see,” she said to me, “I was right. Now pull yourself together, we’re going home.”

Sleep when it came was fitful and tortured. In my dreams, Dauphine was still gone, and Xavier wouldn’t talk to me. He’d look through me like I wasn’t even there, even when I tried to pound on his chest to get his attention.

But when I awoke, I was resolved—I could lose my heart, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t lose my sense of pride, and that would surely happen if I stayed. He may not love me, but he’d want to sleep with me again. But come hell or hot Frenchman I was flying home before the week was done.

Chapter Forty-Six

I jerked awake, my neck aching and my eyes gritty as the plane touched down in Charleston. I took a deep inhale and tried to stretch my back, my shoulders stiff and sore. Having forgotten to close my window shade when we took off at seven this morning from New York, midmorning sun shone like a spotlight, making it hard to get my eyes open. Then the pain in my heart took over everything else, and the deep breath I’d just taken shot out of me like I’d been punched.

We taxied to the gate, and everyone around me hummed with the energy of excitement and anticipation. I rested my head against the window and let my eyes adjust, taking long, slow, breaths to ease what was happening inside me. Should I have left? Should I have stayed and fought for the father and daughter I’d fallen so hard for?

Madame had begged me.

Evan had begged me.

Dauphine had begged me.

My eyes burned as they flooded anew. I’d stayed with Dauphine five extra days, trying to give her some semblance of normalcy and joy after her traumatic experience that she still wouldn’t talk about.

Xavier and I had co-existed under the same roof. Strained family meals. Avoided eye contact. Awkward silences.

And then he had all but begged me. And I couldn’t regret the moment of weakness I’d had, allowing myself one last bittersweet goodbye.