“Can you look up what belle-mère means?” I asked her, spelling it out while she typed it into her phone.

“Stepmother. Did Dauphine ask you to be her stepmother?”

I nodded, mute, my eyes filling.

“It actually means beautiful mother. Trust the French to fully romanticize a replacement mother. My idea of a stepmother is Cruella De Ville.”

“Same with my stepfather.” I picked at a stray thread on my pillow. “Although he wasn’t exactly cruel, not to me. Just a money grubber.”

“Maybe it’s different when one parent dies as opposed to one of them having an affair.”

“Maybe.” I lifted a shoulder. Then I shivered. “The way he looked at me when he took her tablet. I feel guilty all of a sudden, even though Dauphine called me, and not the other way around. Maybe I shouldn’t have called her back.”

Meredith brought her knee up and rested her cheek on it, looking at me sideways. “It sounds like you have a good relationship with her. You guys are friends. If you hadn’t called back when she was obviously upset, that would have been cruel.”

I sighed. “You’re right.”

Suddenly my phone rang again. Another unknown number. Both Meredith and I stared at it.

“Answer it or no?” I asked quickly.

“Answer it!” Meredith practically shrieked.

I stabbed the accept button. At least it was a voice call and not a video call.

“Josephine?” Xavier’s deep voice rumbled.

Meredith slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

I flapped my hand.

“What?” Meredith whispered at my gesture. “What does that mean?”

I covered the phone. “I don’t know. Leave?”

“I’m leaving,” she said, then stopped and pointed at me. “But you are telling me everything.”

“Go,” I mouthed.

“Going,” she mouthed in response, backing to the door.

“Josephine?” Xavier said again with a muttered French curse.

“I—I’m here.”

Silence descended as soon as I announced to Xavier I was on the line. The soft click of my bedroom door closing behind Meredith was the only sound.

Perhaps he’d hung up because I hadn’t announced myself sooner. I took the phone away from my ear to check the screen. We were still connected.

“Xavier?” I asked softly, and it came out as a whisper, almost as if I was afraid to say his name. I was afraid. So afraid these feelings for him would balloon up at the sound of his voice when I’d been trying so hard to stuff them away.

“Oui,” he said softly. When nothing else came after, I frowned, but stayed quiet, unsure of the purpose of his call. Was he angry? Did he miss me? After a few moments, I lay back against my pillows and clicked off my side lamp. Waiting. In the darkness, I became aware of the faint sound of his breathing. “Are you alone?” he suddenly asked.

“Yes. Of course.” I paused. “You?”