“Are you okay?” he asked, his face morphing to slight disappointment when he saw I was fully dressed. “Are you sick?”

“No.”

A flush spread across his cheeks, his lips were pale. “Do you want to leave?”

I swallowed and shook my head. “No.”

“Do you … regret anything between us?”

“No. Never. Never,” I repeated with a frown.

“So you still want us, Dauphine and me?”

I blinked and nodded. “Yes. But logistically, I—”

“So what happened in the bathroom? I get the sense you were freaking out?”

“I was. Well, a bit. I asked Meredith and Tabitha what I should do.”

“About what?”

I licked my lips. “Whether I should move to France.” I winced. “So we can date. Not that you’ve asked, and I’d never—”

“And what did they say?”

“What?”

“What did your friends say?”

“Um …” I slipped my phone out my back pocket and unlocked it, then handed it to him.

His eyes grew wide as he read Meredith’s response, and a smirk curved his mouth. When he looked back at me, his eyes were burning. He gave my phone back. “Does anything about your friend’s suggestion freak you out?”

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “No.”

He pressed his lips together, as if containing a reaction. “Not even the ‘more little frogs’ part?” He raised his fingers in air quotes. “Which I have to say is mildly insulting.”

“No,” I whispered after a short pause and tilted my head. “You?”

His eyes dropped to my mouth as he contemplated my question. “No,” he said at last. His eyes flicked back up to mine. And the gravity of what we’d both just admitted was like a silent explosion. Promises and hope and a future filled with love and laughter and a bigger family suddenly bloomed in the ether between us.

I exhaled, a giddy smile splitting my face even while I tried to bite it back.

He stood. “Good, then come. Dauphine has a question she’d like to ask you.” He held out his hand and I placed mine in his. He kissed my wrist and then led me down the stairs.

Halfway down, I looked up from following my feet and saw the dining room table with food and flowers and champagne. “I-I thought you said you’d eaten and saved me some. Not—” I glanced to Xavier, only to see him looking toward Dauphine. She was waiting, holding an envelope out in her hands.

My name was etched in her chicken scratch across the front. I let go of Xavier’s hand and stepped toward her. “What is this?” I asked.

She covered her mouth and jumped up and down twice.

I took it and carefully tore it open and removed the card. It was written by her in French.

Josie,

S'il te plaît, veux-tu être ma belle-mère?

Je t’aime,

Dauphine.

I was frozen.