The Frenchman's Bride. Rebecca Winters

      Something about those parting words convinced Vincent she’d been telling his children the truth. She’d meant what she’d said in the literal sense because she would be turning her back on the world when she took her vows.

      Everything that had transpired at his apartment was starting to make a horrible kind of sense. The Rolland household had been turned inside out.

      Monique was barely speaking to him. His son was in hell because Vincent had insulted the love of his life, a woman who was about to become cloistered and permanently unavailable to him.

      Everything Vincent had done since the twins’ birth to make sure they didn’t repeat his mistakes had blown up in his face.

      Nothing would ever be the same again.

      Had it only been twelve hours since he’d awakened in his hotel room in London, excited because he was going to fly to Paris to surprise his beloved children?

      Tonight despair made him feel a thousand years old.

      “Let’s go inside, petite. Paul needs us, even if he wishes I were drawing my last breath in the middle of the Sahara.” Even if my son wishes he’d left this earth…