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Levi takes the hint instantly. “You don’t look like a captive.” He puts his hand on my jaw. “Clean-shaven, nice clothes.”

Oh, I like this twist. I amp up the innocent act. “You are such a big strong man. The Army will protect me.” I sidle toward the bed.

“If you deserve protection.” He pushes me onto the bed. “If you’re so innocent, prove it.”

I raise myself on my elbows. “If your army is so powerful, you prove it to me.”

He unzips and gets down over me. “You’re about to find out. You ever taken one of these before?” he asks, fishing out his cock.

I pull him the rest of the way out. He’s hard and I like it. I try to control my glee. “I don’t know what to do! Oh, please, is there some other way I can prove my innocence?”

Levi rucks my shirt up and pulls down my pants. “No other way. You’re about to discover the power of the United States Army, Frenchie.”

My doorbell rings. Levi’s head sinks.

“Ignore it,” he says.

The bell rings again.

“Sébastien, j’sais que tu es là!” I hear. I know that you’re there!

“Oh, fuck! That’s my mother!” I tell Levi.

“FUCK!” Levi says. He rolls off me. “How did she get here so damned fast?”

I tuck my shirt back into my pants, look down, and then decide to untuck it in order to obscure that I’m hard. “Are you coming?”

“Give me a second,” he says, tucking himself away. He still has a bulge. “Christ, what do I wear? We never decided earlier. I thought we had time. I need to borrow one of your ties. Stall them so I can put on a tie.”

“Don’t! T-shirt and jeans. These are ordinary people.”

“They’ll see I’m hard!”

The doorbell rings again.

“J’arrive!” I call down the stairs, and, with a last, reluctant glance at Levi, I thunder down the stairs and throw open the door to reveal my mother, a short woman with a shoulder-length iron-gray pageboy cut. She smiles at me.

“Well,” my mother says in French. “I thought you’d never get to the door.” She kisses me on the cheeks. “Here’s a bottle of wine for the house and a bag of Montréal bagels for you. Now let’s not waste any more time. Where is my future son-in-law?”

I look past her to see my entire tribe rolling out of a minivan, stretching their legs and looking miserable. “Levi?” I call up the stairs. “My family’s here. My entire family’s here.”

“Were you two having sex?” my mother asks. “Never mind that, of course you were. Your lips are swollen and your shirt’s untucked.”

Well, if that wasn’t enough to deflate whatever residual hardness was left, I don’t know what is. I hasten to tuck in my shirt as Levi comes down the stairs. He’s opted for jeans and an Army T-shirt. He puts his left hand around my waist and extends the other to shake. “Madame Saint-Jacques,” he says. “Un plaisir.”

“Non, you are family,” she says in her heavily accented English. She kisses his cheeks like she did me. “Now let me get a look at you.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and scrutinizes him. “How much French do you speak?”

“Not very much, but I’m learning.”

“Good. Sébastien will help you. And do you want children?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“A lot,” I put in.

“Four to start. Ideally six.”