“I don’t think we should talk anymore.” Josephine’s words cut through my turmoil. “Or not talk anymore. Or whatever the hell it is we are doing. I … I’m going to end the call now.”

“Josephine, wait. Attend. S’il te plaît … give me a moment to get my thoughts into words?”

She blew out a long breath.

Christ. How could I do this over the phone? What was the point? What thoughts would I, could I, give voice to when I didn’t want to face them myself?

I missed her. So what? She wasn’t here, and I was certainly not there. Telling her would only confuse both of us.

I wanted her. But again, the geography. Telling her would only cause pain.

I was jealous. And I had no fucking right to be. Telling her would be the cruelest thing when I had no plans to do anything about it.

She deserved happiness. The kind of happiness I wasn’t capable of giving.

“Please forget I asked that question. Let’s begin again. Tell me about your job.”

She sighed and began wearily. “Well, firstly, it’s really nice to go into a job where everyone respects your opinion, and you don’t have to wear hose and heels.”

I tried to parse out the phrase she just said and came up blank. “What is that? Ho-sand?”

“Hose and heels. Panty-hose? Tights? Stockings? And high heeled shoes.”

Des talons. A flash of Josephine in scandalous thigh high stockings and high heels hit me between the eyes and flooded down to my groin. I groaned aloud.

She stopped talking instantly.

“Pardon. Continue,” I said with effort. “S’il te plaît.”

Clearing her throat, she went on.

I did my best to focus on her words until I was legitimately caught up in her stories about the history of her current projects. “It sounds like you should have stayed on a bit longer with my mother. She’s been sweet talking developers and town councils long enough that she’s definitely learned some tricks. You could both learn from each other.”

Josephine chuckled, huskily. “I bet. She’s formidable.”

“She wasn’t formidable enough to get you to stay though. I wish you’d stayed.” It slipped out and I cursed myself.

Josephine let out a soft breath. “I couldn’t. And for what?”

“To give me time.” I snapped my lips closed with a wince.

There was a pause where I guessed we both teetered on the edge. “Time for what?” she asked then, leaning over the abyss.

I leaned out precariously far too. There’d be no one to catch us if we both lost our balance. “Time … to trust,” I said.

“Me?”