Falling for my boss ✔️

Chapter 11 - Family's opinion

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Léon's POV

"Léon, Estelle and Adrien don't want to eat without you!", Rebecca called from the kitchen. I glanced back to the dining room and smiled at my two little monkeys as they raised their children's cutlery at me. 

"I'll be there in a minute!", I promised them.

I quickly sent Michaël a text message after his sudden call. It was 6:30 am in Avignon, which meant it must be 12:30 pm in New York. Mother had been there early for her standards.

Pale, petite arms wrapped around my back. "What's wrong? You never let the kids wait." 

"It was Michaël", I lifted my head to see my wife properly. If there was one thing Michael had always stubbornly insisted in, then it was to have eye-contact with the person you spoke to.

Rebecca knew. "Why was your mother there?" 

"I don't know", I got up from my crouching position and left my phone on the ground for it to charge – this time without a code. Estelle had managed to disable it for 10 hours the last time I had my phone on the ground like this.

"But he didn't sound too good. I bet they ... talked about Sébastien again. It still takes a toll on him." 

"And on you too", Rebecca brushed my hair back. "What did he say?" 

"The typical after mother left us: I love you." I smiled at my wife and squeezed her hand.

"Papaaaa", both kids screamed at the same time.

"Cooooming!", I yelled back while Rebecca laughed. "Why are they so clingy again?" 

"Because you let them do everything", Rebecca took my hand and led me to the dining room.

Estelle instantly beamed at me. First she had been clingy to her mother, but the moment she had turned 1, she had started taking an interest in me. And now that she was 2 years old, she was particularly clingy to me. Adrien was the complete opposite – he was an independent little 4-year-old boy, independent like his mother, who loved to be with us only when he ate or was in the mood for cuddling. He usually played with Estelle. It warmed my heart how close these two were.

Exactly what Michaël had insisted we be after the divorce. And his efforts had showed; we were inseparable and he visited us on every holiday.

"Was that uncle Michaël?", Adrien asked, his face smeared with chocolate. I even saw some in his eyebrow. They were so cute when they ate their chocolate croissants. 

"Yes."

Adrien's face lit up. He was the identical copy of our brother Sébastien; the hair that was neither blond or brown, his green eyes and even the one dimple on his right cheek. Attitude wise he took after Rebecca, patient and independent.

This age hurt me the most to see him in. My younger brother had been his age when my parents had divorced. My heart ached at the thought if I would have to send him away now, like Sébastien back then. Only at four years old, he had been sent to Uncle Jacque in Paris. How could mother do that? I could never send Adrien away, never.

I often wondered how Adrien would look growing up. Would my brother have looked like him?

Estelle, my little princess, was mine through and through. Brown hair which we had gotten from my father, but with a red glint from her mother, my green eyes and even the dimple on our chin. Rebecca claimed it was her favourite spot to kiss us. She was even loud and spontaneous like me.