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Secret Smile

“Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile and you use it only for me.”

~*~

You honestly don’t want to leave but what other option are you left with? Somewhere deep down inside you want him to ask you to say, though you know better. You know that he would never ask you to stay; there was no reason for him to do it, not unless… no. There was no “unless” and there was never going to be one either.

You poke your head inside the medium sized room and you gently knock on the open door. Francis Bonnefoy turns on his leather armchair to face you and eyes your appearance skeptically, “Oui cher?” the Frenchman asked and raises an eyebrow, “is there something you wish to say?”

Opening your mouth to say what was on your mind, you find yourself closing it as you thought of an even better way to express your words when you shut your lips again and instead frown at him.

Francis rolls his eyes and returns his attention back to his desk where his glowing laptop was waiting for him, “When you’ve stop behaving like some stupid fish out of water, call on me.”

“Ineedtogiveyoumytwoweeks’notice.” You blurt out quickly, causing Francis to turn his chair around to face you once again.

“What was that?” perhaps it was just your imagination but you swear that he look livid by your words.

“Mr. Bonnefoy, I need to give you my two weeks’ notice,” you say a little more clearly and slowly while wearing a tiny smile, you could see something flitter across in the blond man’s eyes as he stares at you, “My family and I are moving out of the state by the end of the month and I also want to give you my thanks for your kind hospitality.”

“Is that truly what you wish to do?”

His question catches you off guard, you didn’t expect him to say that, “Er, it is sir,” you nod once at him, “what other choice do I have?”

Francis watches you for a second before turning to grab at the phone and quickly dials a number, one handed, “Where do you live? I can arrange for the movers to go to your house to pack and move your things they will travel anywhere I tell them to.”
Wow… that must have been nice, or so you think to yourself, “Thank you Mr. Bonnefoy, but I don’t think it will be nec—“

He waves a hand dismissively at you then he completely ignores you while someone had answered on the other end until he silently hands you a slip of paper and a pen for you to write your address on it. Complying you quickly write it down and hand it to him you find it easier just to let him have his way with things like this, the man was too stubborn for him to listen to reason anyway. He looks at the paper and begins to repeat the words you’ve written to the person on the other end of the phone. Francis says yes a few times, said something in French and then finally a goodbye before he hangs up the phone.

“It’s been taken care of you can now put your mind at ease.” He says then turns back toward his desk and his laptop.

“Thank you again sir,” you say though you feel a slight disappointment in the pit of your stomach as you turn to leave the room, “I’ll get started on dinner then,”

You head down the staircase and walk into the kitchen where you open the fridge and take out a few things some were the vegetables that you were going to prepare the pot roast with. After washing them thoroughly you then begin to chop then, starting first with the red onion.

Soon your mind begins to wander on the conversation you had with your mother a few days earlier.

~*~

“Sweetheart,” your mom says right before you head out to your afternoon class, “I know you’ve been trying really hard between going to school and working at your job but unfortunately it’s not enough, we are going to have to move.”

You stop and drop your bag on the floor with a small clump. Move? Where? When? “Where would we move to?” you voice your thoughts to her as many more began to race in your mind.

“Your uncle Ruben offered us a place to stay in his house in Seattle.”

Seattle? But that was so far away from everyone and everything that you know! Your life was here in (y/c&s)! How can you just uproot yourself and say goodbye?

“What if I told you that I don’t want to go?”

“What other choice do you have sweetie? Not unless you plan to stay with a friend I don’t know about? Do you?”

You bite your lip and think of Francis… no way could you ask him. It would be awkward and a bit humiliating, “No mom, I’ll resign from my job tomorrow.”

~*~

It was easier for you to hide your sadness due to the onions you were chopping; you sniffle and hiccup gently then wipe your eyes clean with the side of your arm and sleeve. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Francis sneaking up behind you until he spoke.

“__________,” he speaks behind you causing you to freeze in mid-chop, “You could always stay here, there’s plenty of room and in that way you can also finish school…”

“A-Are you asking me to stay?” you sniffle again and blink as you turn around to look at him just as more tears moisten your eyes.

Francis looks taken aback by your blunt question and you can see how pink his cheeks became as he looked away from you, “I wasn’t saying that precisely, I only meant that if you want to you can, I did say that you could when you first came here, did I not?”

You had open your mouth to reply that he did when your phone rings and you fish it out of the front pocket of your jeans. Looking at the caller ID you read your mom’s name across the screen along with her smiling picture.

“Hey mom what’s going on?” you asked in a worried tone, your mom usually never calls you at work or at school unless it was an emergency.

“__________! Are you okay? What’s going on? There are movers here taking all of your stuff! Why did you keep me out of the loop in your plans? Where are you moving to? These men won’t tell me anything!”

“Mom! Mom slow down I don’t know what you’re talking abo—“ you turn to see Francis giving you a small smirk, he then gestures for you to hand him your phone.

As though you were hypnotized, you hand your phone to him where he then begins to speak to your mother.

“Madame __________?” he spoke in a very polite way, which was very odd for you to hear because he was usually spouting so many vulgarities, “Ah oui, it is lovely to hear from you as well (y/m/n). Yes I quite agree. No, no it is no trouble at all but a pleasure. Oui, __________ is a wonderful employee and a well brought up young woman. Thank you very much madame, oui adieu!” his smile drops and he hands you back the phone, “Your mother wishes to speak to you again.”

He turns and leaves the kitchen you watch him go with wide eyes and you didn’t realize your mouth had drop open, “Mom?”

“Sweetheart, you are a grown woman and you should be able to make your own decisions, if you want to stay behind and live your life then I can’t stop you. I love you so much and I can’t stand in the way of your happiness.”

“Happiness? Mom what are you talking ab--?”

“And you know I will only be one phone call and one plane ride away.”

You suddenly had a dreading and suspicious feeling in your gut, “Mom, how do you know Mr. Bonnefoy?”

“Sweetheart, you’re a bright capable young woman and I know that you will be alright where you are, though if you need me, like I said I’m either a phone call or a plane ride away, I love you baby, don’t forget that.”

Then she hung up. She. Hung. UP. What the hell?

You were staring at your phone just as you were about to leave the kitchen to look for your employer when he reenters the kitchen to look for something to eat.

“Mr. Bonnefoy,” you start out calmly, your heart hammering in your chest, “Where exactly are you transporting my stuff to?”

“Hmm? Here of course why do you ask?” he answers so nonchalantly you didn’t know whether or not if he was being genuine or not.

“But I didn’t even say yes!”

“Were you planning to say no?”

“No…”

“Well then I don’t see what the problem is.”

You stare at each other for a moment, your eyes take in his expression, his deep violet eyes, the curve of his lips, the chiseled chin and his high cheekbones… you have no idea what possessed you to do it but you close the gap between the two of you and you hug him.

“Thank you,” you say and snuggle against him, “Thank you so much.”

“What’s going on in here?” you can hear Matt’s voice say upon entering the kitchen.

“Your father asked me to move in with you,” you say still snuggling Francis tightly.

Francis on his part had stiffened the moment you had hugged him, his arms were raised above your head awkwardly as though he didn't know what to do with them.

“What is she doing?” he addresses this question to Matthew as you feel him slightly turn his body to speak to him.

“Papa, I believe it’s called a 'hug'.” The young man snorts amused.

“I don’t like it… get her off me.”

“Let me see what I can d—‘EY!” just as the young man approaches you, you pull him into the hug as well.

“You too Matthew,” you smile and snuggle against him as well.

“This is your fault, vieux pet dégénéré[1].” Matthew spats and glares at his father, but you don’t care you knew they liked the attention.

“Taisez-vous, petite merde.[2]”

Maybe.

…