I gaped at him, hearing French spew out of his mouth like it was nothing. Guillaume was the French variant of William. Seriously? Frankly, I’d been surprised he even spoke English. Figured him for someone who communicated solely in emojis. But my grandmother smiled. “Parlez-vous français?” “Un peu,” he said, measuring about half an inch with his fingers. “Très, très peu.” She laughed, and that same smile that made him look like he was built for hugs spread across his face. He looked down at her, and I rolled my eyes. Un peu, my ass.
