Broken French: A widowed, billionaire, single dad romance Natasha Boyd (i read books .TXT) 📖

“This place is so old school, I love it!” Andrea yelled. She held out her glass to clink and we both toasted and then drank. The DJ began a dance mix of “Gangsta’s Paradise” and we hit the dance floor.

“You were right,” I told Andrea after an hour where we’d danced, had water, more champagne, and danced some more.

“What?” she yelled.

“This is so fun!” And I’d needed it so much.

She nodded with a grin.

Since it was early and most of the groups there were part of couples, no one had really approached us to dance with them. But men sure watched us. Some girls too. We may not have been the most gorgeous or glamorous in the place, but even I knew there was something mesmerizing and attractive about a person full of joy and happiness. And for a few hours, that was exactly how I felt. The room filled. I was gently but firmly pulled into the embrace of a guy with swept back blond hair and ripped jeans and a Dolce and Gabbana t-shirt who barely looked like he was out of high school. He was absolutely beautiful but far too young for me. I laughed at his overblown confidence and enjoyed two songs with him. At least he was respectful about where his hands went. Andrea danced with his friend. When they tried to urge us off the dance floor, indicating a dark corner of benches, we declined and my guy held a hand to his chest, feigning a mortal wound. But it didn’t take long for them to find new conquests.

My hair clung to my neck, and it got smokier and warmer as more people showed up. I made a drink motion to Andrea and we forced our way through to the now crowded bar. After a glass of water, I motioned to the ladies room.

Down the hall, the air was cooler on my damp skin, and my ears rang with muffled throbs. It was comparably quiet. I held onto Andrea’s arm, still feeling slightly off-balance.

“Whew! That was fun,” she enthused as we pushed open the door. There was a small sitting area before the bathrooms.

A girl was fixing her hose and gave us a once over.

“Haven’t had a good old dance like that in ages,” Andrea said as the other girl left.

“Those two young guys were fun.” I peered into the mirror and wiped at the mascara shadow under my eye.

“Ahh, he was whispering and begging me to “bring him to heaven.” She laughed, raising her fingers in quotes. “If I were ten years younger,” she crooned. “Your guy was stunning.”

I chuckled. “And also twelve.”

“Yeah. Makes an old maid like me feel like she still might have it though.” She made her way to the mirrors to join me and grabbed a tissue to blot her glowing face.

“You aren’t an old maid!”

“Josie. I haven’t had sex in over ten years,” she said at my reflection. “I’m as old maid as it gets. And the last time I did it was … well, I left him, didn’t I? So that’s that.”

The mood plummeted.

I squeezed her arm, and she sniffed, turning around. “Argh. Look at me—a sorry-for-myself wreck after champagne. It’s always made me gooey. I just miss it, you know? The intimacy. The tenderness even, not that I got much of that.”

“You’re fine. You can feel sad about that if you need to. I mean, ten years?” I exclaimed in a teasing tone.

She leaned away and punched my arm good-naturedly. “Hey.”

“I’m kidding.”

“I’m not. I’m … lonely. The boat and all the people on it are lovely, family, almost, and I feel safe, I love my work. I feel valued but … I also feel invisible. Like there’s this whole other life out there I’m supposed to be living and that bastard stole it from me.” She sighed as she turned back to the mirror. “I’m a hologram in this life.”

I wanted to say that I didn’t think she was invisible to Evan, or that he saw her as a hologram. But it also was a heck of a long time for Evan not to make his move if he wanted to. “I don’t feel like I’m wise enough to give you advice,” I said softly. “I mean, look at me, I’m supposed to be an architect, but I’ve ended up a nanny. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’ve studied and invested huge amounts of money and years into getting a job my dead father would have approved of, and the man my mom married after him threw it all into jeopardy. The last guy to ask me out ghosted me after one date. And before that someone dumped me because of who my stepfather was. Utterly humiliating. And worse, I’m really damn attracted to my boss. I mean, God, could you get any sadder than that? I’m crazy about my boss.” I shook my head with a cringe. “I’m setting feminism back a hundred years.”

The sooner I got that resignation letter written, the better.

I could tell Andrea wanted to say something but didn’t know what.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to make it about me. Can I say one thing though?”

“Hit me.”

“I don’t think you’re invisible to Evan.” There, I’d said it.

Andrea went pink, and then pale.

“Shit, sorry. Are you going to pass out?” I asked.

“No. No, I’m fine. But since we’re being honest, I don’t think you’re invisible to Mr. Pascale either.” She took my arm. “I could tell from the beginning that there’s something between you. And maybe it’s just a physical attraction. Maybe it’s more. But it’s there. And that man deserves some happiness. Some joy. And if you leave tomorrow, he’s going to be a grouchy mother fucker. And you are so fantastic with Dauphine. Not that you should throw your own life plans away for a widower and his daughter. But I’ve never seen him even have the