The Butcher (Fifth Republic Series Book 1)

It’d been a couple days since Bastien had come by the apartment. I’d eaten the pancakes when he’d left, and they were just as good as the first time I’d had them on the terrace of his home along the Seine. But I hadn’t heard from him since, and I hadn’t heard from Adrien either. It was the first time I’d heard nothing from either of them.

I went back to work at the bar, and Bastien didn’t show up for a drink. Adrien didn’t stop by to harass me either. My life became quiet and unremarkable. That forced me to experience the pain head on, to think about what I wanted to do.

Try to save my marriage…or move on.

I was in my apartment when Adrien texted me. Can we talk?

I should appreciate how much space he’d given me this last week, even though I shouldn’t have to appreciate anything from him, not after what he’d done. Sure.

I’ll be there in a minute.

That meant he was outside my apartment, at one of the cafés downstairs, or sitting in the back of his driver’s car. Just when I thought I had some space, I realized he’d been suffocating me this entire time.

He walked inside a moment later, wearing jeans and a sweater because a chill had swept across the city.

I was on the green couch, my knees to my chest, wearing leggings and a long-sleeved sweater, my loungewear. I wore no makeup because I didn’t have the energy to care about my appearance at the moment.

He sat in the armchair, arms on his thighs, looking at me with trepidation. “I can apologize to you again and again, however many times you need to hear it. It was a lapse in judgment, a momentary mistake, something I’ll regret forever. But we still love each other—and I think this marriage is worth fighting for.”

My stomach was clenched like a fist, the pain and the rage mixing into a bowl of acid.

“Could we just try?”

My eyes flicked to the window behind him.

“Fleur—”

“What constitutes trying?”

“Whatever you’re willing to do. You could move back in and have your own bedroom⁠—”

“I don’t want to go back there.”

“Then you can stay here, and we could do marriage counseling a couple times a week. Perhaps a professional will help us heal the wounds and help you trust me again.” He sat at the edge of his seat, like he wanted to fling himself forward and grab me hard. His eyes flicked back and forth between mine as he waited for my answer.

I wouldn’t be this depressed if I didn’t care about Adrien. I would be able to get out of bed if I didn’t care. But I was defeated, and the time apart had only made me feel worse. Did that mean I was love-sick? But I also had a deeply passionate relationship with a man I hardly knew, so what did that mean? That I was delirious? That I was just seeking comfort anywhere I could? I didn’t have the answer to any of those questions. “Okay…”

He continued to stare at me, his expression slightly blank as if he didn’t realize what I’d said. “Okay? Did you just say okay?”

I nodded.

The biggest smile moved over his face, a glow in his eyes that was brighter than Christmas morning. “That—that makes me really happy. Thank you so much⁠—”

“This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. It just means…I’m willing to start somewhere.”