Page 190 of Boss of the Year
Lucas stared at Daniel, this new version of his brother who seemed to have found a backbone along with purpose.
“I’ll handle her,” Daniel continued, his voice firm with newfound authority. “The board meetings, Mom’s theatrics, whatever legal challenges she thinks she can mount. Don’t worry about any of it.”
Lucas stared. “It’ll take a little more time than that. But, Daniel?—”
“Go.” Daniel nodded toward the exit. “Go find her before it’s too late. Because take it from me, brother, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
38
CAFÉ AMERICANO
*a little water keeps the espresso from spoiling.
The village of Saint-Cyprien was exactly the kind of place I’d imagined when I asked Ondine for recommendations of where to live. Stone houses with terracotta roofs and periwinkle shutters clustered around a medieval abbey at the top of the hill, from which narrow streets worn smooth by centuries of footsteps wound to the Dordogne River. A few intersected at a small central square surrounding a small fountain, into which passersby sometimes threw spare change.
It was the fourth town on Ondine’s list that I’d visited in the south of France since arriving two weeks earlier. Carcassonne had been too large for my taste, and the villages around Toulouse were inaccessible by train. Only fifteen hundred people lived in Saint-Cyprien, but it was on a main train line to Bordeaux and Périgueux, and only thirty minutes’ drive to Sarlat, where a friend of Xavier’s ran a Michelin-starred restaurant. I was officially welcome tostagethere as a line cook whenever I was ready.
For now, I was sitting at a café on the square, reading a new Jane Austen retelling, nursing an espresso made by a friendly young woman named Sandrine, and taking in the rhythms of village life, when my phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call from Joni.
“Oh my God,finally!” Joni’s face filled the screen, bright and animated as always. Behind her, I could see Nathan’s apartment, which meant she was probably between rehearsals. “You never sent me any updates yesterday. I’ve been waiting for my daily check-in.”
After sitting with me on the bathroom floor for a good part of an hour, the only way that I managed to face the facts of my situation was with my sister spending the night with me in the guest room, sleeping next to each other like we had as kids. In the morning, Joni had tried to convince me to stay in New York, at least until I had decided what I wanted to do.
But I couldn’t. For whatever reason, the situation felt like now or never. I knew if I stayed, I’d never leave.
It was only after I promised to check in every day that Joni agreed to let me go and keep the news of my pregnancy to herself until I decided what to do about it and tell our siblings (or not) myself.
“Oh, sorry.” I blinked. “I got in late last night on the drive here.”
“Where is here?”
I turned the phone to show her the square, the buildings, and the people of this charming little commune.
“Saint-Cyprien,” I said as I turned the phone back and propped it up on my book so I could keep sipping my coffee. “I’m renting an Airbnb here for the next few weeks to make sure, but yeah. I think this is it, Jo.”
“Oh myGod, it’ssocute!” Joni squealed. “I love the blue shutters! And that fountain is adorbs!”
I grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty idyllic.”
Joni grinned right back. “I miss you like crazy, but you look so happy, sitting in some chic French café like you belong there. I’m so freaking proud of you for doing this.”
I balked. “Really?”
Joni hadn’t exactly been thrilled when I told her about my plan to move to France permanently. She had almost immediately crawled into Nathan’s lap and started crying, occasionally sobbing things like, “But Ijustgot you back!” and “We finally get along, and now you’releaving?”
It appeared she had a change of heart.
“Well, I won’t lie about wishing that you stayed in New York. I was kind of looking forward to you living ten minutes from the new house.” She sighed. “But when I really thought about it, yeah. It’s pretty awesome. A month ago, you would have needed two weeks of ‘thinking’ about it just to get out the door. A year ago, the idea of traveling the French countryside all by yourself wouldn’t have even occurred to you.”
I bit my lip. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
Her expression told me I was. “You look good. You look like you, in the best possible way. I’m proud of you.”
The compliment warmed me more than the autumn sunshine. She was right, too. Even a month ago, the idea of walking through a Brazilian park had scared me. I couldn’t say I wasn’t still a little worried every time I tried something new. But it was getting easier with each new venture. The world was always going to be full of scary possibilities and surprises that I couldn’t prevent. I could hide from them, or I could embrace them.
I was ready to choose the latter.
Even the biggest one of all, I thought as I slid my hand over my still-flat stomach.
