Chapter 31

By the time Yvette and François arrived, the house was filled with the mouthwatering scent of roasted chicken, garlic butter potatoes, and a fresh garden salad that Monique had prepared. A bottle of wine sat open on the table, and soft music played in the background.

Monique greeted her parents with a warm hug at the door before leading them into the dining room, where I stood waiting.

François clasped my shoulder with a firm but friendly grip. “John, you look well.”

I chuckled, shaking his hand. “I feel better than I did a few days ago. Thanks to your daughter.”

Yvette smiled knowingly. “Yes ... she seems to be taking very good care of you.”

I coughed, suddenly feeling a bead of sweat at the back of my neck. Monique grinned beside me, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

We sat down at the table, Monique serving everyone before finally taking her seat beside me. The conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from the Gendarmes’ visit earlier that morning to my expected recovery timeline.

François swirled his wine in his glass. “The police don’t seem very confident they’ll find the person who hit you.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “No, they don’t have much to go on. I doubt I’ll ever know who did it.”

Yvette gave me a sympathetic look. “That must be frustrating.”

I nodded. “It is. But at this point, I just want to focus on getting better.” I reached over and gave Monique’s hand a gentle squeeze. “And enjoying what I have.”

Monique smiled, squeezing back.

François set his glass down, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Well, from what I hear, you have plenty to enjoy.”

I stiffened slightly, but when I looked up, his expression was nothing but warm approval.

Yvette leaned in, her voice light but meaningful. “Monique is happy, John. We can see it. That’s all that matters to us.”

Monique beamed. “Maman...”

Her mother gave her an affectionate glance, then turned back to me. “She’s always been independent, strong-willed. But the way she looks at you...” She smiled. “You make her light up in a way I’ve never seen before.”

François nodded in agreement, taking another sip of his wine. “Love is love, John. Age is irrelevant.”

I let out a slow breath, some of my earlier worries easing away. “That means a lot. Thank you.”

Monique grinned, clearly pleased with the turn of the conversation.