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"You know, when you got knocked up with Archer's baby, I thought this would be good for business."
I hated that he had never wished for my happiness. But as Mamman said, "You can't teach someone to love, ma chérie;that is something you're either capable of or not, and your father is not."
"Was it?"
He shook his head. "He wouldn't help me. But I think he's good for you."
I grinned, putting my hands on my stomach. I'd worn a colorful maxi dress that showed off my cleavage, which I knew would make my husband as horny as my hormones did me.
"You can give me credit for that," he smirked. "Without me, you wouldn't have had sex with thatfils de pute." Son of a whore.
"Ah, Papa, I'll give credit where it's due but you get zero of it for Duncan being the man he is. All credit goes tohim."
My father was facing the door while my back was to it. But I felt Duncan before he put his hand on my shoulder. He'd come back through the kitchen and brought with him the smell of yeasty bread and his cologne. Smells that comforted me.
"Moreau," my husband said.
"Archer," my father finished his coffee. "I just wanted to let my daughter know that I have retired. I felt it was time."
"Of course." His hand squeezed my shoulder gently. "What are your plans?"
"I have a home in Piedmont. I'm thinking of living there for a while, maybe growing some vine," Papa said airily.
"Sounds fantastic." Duncan didn't hide the satisfaction in his voice.
"You're happy I'm leaving France," my father stated.
"Yes," Duncan said without hesitation. "The further away you are from my wife, the better I will feel."
Papa looked at me wanly. "Send me pictures of my grandchild."
"Yes, Papa." I rose and kissed his cheek. "You take care of yourself."
"I always do."
"Exclusively, in fact," Duncan chided. I elbowed him so he'd shut up. Papa knew he lost; there was no reason to make him feel worse.
Papa picked up his half-eatenpain au chocolate andwalked out as he bit into it.
"I felt a little bad seeing how sad he looked," I told Duncan as we watched Papa go across the street to a waiting car.
Duncan kissed the side of my head. "He's lucky Vincent hasn't killed him, but if he even tries to dip his toes into anybusiness, hewilllose his life."
I sighed. "I know. I don't want him to die, but if he does, it will be because of how he lived his life."
A few customers walked into the bakery then, and I stood quietly with my husband as Lisett took care of them.
I had never imagined a life like this—so perfect. I leaned into Duncan, and he held me.
"Je t'aime, Elsa," he whispered.
"I love you, Duncan," I replied, the words remarkably easy to say.
Chapter 38
Duncan
Elsa was in a mood, which led to me being in a mood, which led us to having an argument. There was a lot of yelling in French (by her) and condescending statements in English (by me).
