Papillon

Chapter 34: 18

Francis

A FaceTime call sounded through my room at midnight: Bella Ryder.

I picked up immediately and her beautiful face lit up my entire screen. It tugged at my chest, hard.

"Joyeux anniversaire, Francis Laurent Duval!" She shrieked. I swear the walls of my room shook.

I smiled. "Merci, Isabella Marie Ryder."

We were steadily into spring now, which meant my 18th birthday. I usually liked my birthday because Mama and I would spend the day together–just the two of us, even when I was in France. I'd be away from my nightmare of a sperm donor for just a couple hours.

"I wish I could give you a birthday kiss right now but here's the best I can do," she said, blowing a kiss through the screen.

My smile grew even wider. "Best birthday present ever."

"Gosh, I'm with a legal adult now and I'm only sixteen," she pouted. "Scandalous."

"You're right," I nodded. "We should probably stop. Wait until you turn eighteen too."

Her eyes went wild with rage, but her expression softened immediately. "You couldn't last without me," she shrugged, unbothered.

She was right. I was in love with Bella Ryder–there was nothing that could rid myself of her. We still weren't officially "dating", but everyone who mattered seemed to know we were basically together. I hadn't told her I loved her even though a part of me told me she loved me too–maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"Je ne sais pas que je veux savoir à quoi ressemblerait la vie sans toi," I told her. I don't know want to know what life would be like without you.

She sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She was picking up on French quickly–between my mother's French lessons and my additional help but she still didn't understand everything, especially with how fast I talked.

"I'll make you lunch today," she suggested shyly. "Sound okay?"

"Can we do dinner? I'm having lunch with Mama."

She smiled so sweetly I wanted to die. "Of course. Any requests–"

Her voice cut off with another incoming phone call and my heart stopped beating.

"I'm getting another call. I'm sorry but I need to take it."

"Aw, okay. But I'll see you tonight?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Okay, good. I have something to tell you tonight then," she smiled shyly. My chest constricted but I couldn't focus on anything other than the incoming call.

"Je te verrai ce soir, papillon," I promised. I'll see you tonight, butterfly. "Bye."

I picked up the other call before she could respond, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Que veux-tu?" I demanded. What do you want?

"Is that how you speak to your father?" He replied in French.

"What do you want?"

"I'm just calling to wish my son a happy birthday," he said dryly.

"I was never your son."

"DNA tests prove otherwise and believe me, I had them done."

"Fine. Then, I stopped being your son on my sixth birthday when you gifted me third degree burns, three broken ribs, and severe asphyxiation," I replied calmly. "You know that. I know that. So, for the third time, what do you want?"