MICA SIPPED A glass of Gabe’s chardonnay a half hour later as he surreptitiously watched Grace, with Jules perched on her hip, chat with Katia and Austin McCreary. Austin chucked Jules under the chin, while Grace told some story that caused Katia’s eyes to grow wide before she frowned in concern, then gave Grace a big hug and a smile.
Grace’s iPhone pinged, and she excused herself. As she greeted the person on the other end, she managed to kiss Jules’s cheek and nod at Maddie and Nate. Mica could tell from the shake of her head and her concentrated expression that this was yet another call from Paris.
Work.
Her design team needed her again. By his count, this was the third call this evening.
Shame pinched the edges of his conscience. He remembered how he’d ridiculed her when they were kids, telling her she had no idea what hard work was. His ego and pride at being a farm boy and a Barzonni had clouded his thinking.
He realized now there was nothing silly about her. She handled Jules and her overseas calls deftly. Her friendly manner was infused with caring and genuine affection for everyone present. She was open and happy and concerned about others. Even when they were kids, she’d been forthcoming about her opinions and goals. He just hadn’t listened. She was as ambitious as the rest of his brothers. Even his father.
It was Mica who lacked drive.
What does she need me for? Frankly, Mica knew what Grace needed. She’d told him so. If circumstances were different, he thought, he would have fallen in love with Grace already. But after the way she’d kept Jules from him, he couldn’t trust her. He could feel just about everything else for her—admiration, respect, attraction—but without trust, there could be no love.
Gina went over to Grace and insisted on holding Jules. Surprisingly, Mica’s son gladly went to his grandmother. He snuggled into her shoulder as if he’d known her his whole life.
Still on the phone, Grace sidled over to a wing chair near the roaring fire and dug around in Jules’s diaper bag. She withdrew her iPad and began swiping and tapping as she talked.
A few moments later, Grace put the iPad away and ended the call.
She went back over to Jules and thrust her hands out to him. Grinning, the baby nearly leaped into Grace’s arms. Sam came up, put his arm around Gina’s waist and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, excused herself and followed Sam to the kitchen.
Grace was then joined by her Aunt Louise, Cate Sullivan, Trent Davis and Sarah. Grace’s smile was luminous and inviting as she fell into easy conversation with them.
Mica had always marveled at how the talent for easy conversation and making friends had passed him by. His mother had worried about him when he was young, and he preferred the solitude of his room or the mechanical shed to being with people. His father had accused him of brooding. Mica wasn’t quite sure why he seemed to better understand the workings of tractors and machinery than he did people.
People were a mystery to him.
Except for Grace.
He’d made fun of her and mocked her. Teased her. He’d been arrogant, thinking that his life, his way of doing things, was better than hers. He’d been young and self-centered. And he’d been wrong. Grace had always worked diligently toward her goals. She still did.
He felt a slap on the back. It was Rafe. He wore a white dinner jacket, tuxedo slacks and black dress cowboy boots. Rafe was munching on one of Olivia’s delicious macarons.
“What’s up, bro?” Rafe asked, not looking at Mica but keeping his eyes on Olivia as she took Jules from Grace’s arms.
“Not much.”
“Yeah?” Rafe popped the last of the cookie into his mouth. “You gonna make this wedding happen before Grace goes back to Europe?”
“Of course I am,” Mica replied, sounding more confident than he felt.
“Nate says you botched it,” Rafe said bluntly. “No ring, huh?”
“Will you guys knock it off about a ring?”
Rafe grimaced. “Uh-oh. This isn’t good.”
Mica’s eyes tracked slowly back to Grace. Suddenly, she looked like the most competent woman in the world. And beautiful, he thought fleetingly. It should be easy to trust her, to move forward and forget she’d kept Jules from him all these months. He could be a father now, so why should it matter so much? But the pain of being left out, ignored and made to feel immaterial in his own son’s life banged around in his head. And his heart.
That was the devil of it. His head and heart kept crossing signals. One minute he wanted her out of his life, for her to leave Jules with him not just for a few months, but forever. The next, he saw visions of holding her next to him every night for the rest of his life, as they watched Jules grow together.
If only Mica could change her mind about the importance of love in their relationship. If they got married now, maybe he could come to trust her eventually. In the grand scheme of their lives, it wasn’t all that much to sacrifice for Jules’s sake. His mother had done it.
Jules had to come first. Mica would do whatever it took to secure a good life for his son.
Rafe was still munching his cookie. “She really isn’t going to marry you, is she?”
“I don’t think so.” The words tasted sour.
“Dang,” Rafe commented. “I’d guessed that’s why she was back here.”
“You guessed wrong.”
“We all did, huh?”
“Yeah...” Mica looked down at his glass.
Rafe slid his arm around Mica’s shoulders and squeezed. “Carpe diem, bro.”
“Huh?”
“Take charge another way. He’s your kid.”
“She wants to leave him with me for several months. Then she’ll come back for him.”
Rafe’s eyes rounded. “So, what does that make you? Temp Daddy?”
Mica lifted his head, suddenly filled with strength. “Absolutely not. Never. I’m his father now and always.” Mica straightened his shoulders.
“Prove it.” Rafe nodded toward Grace. “To her.”
* * *
GRACE WATCHED MICA across the room by stealing glances at him as she talked to Mrs. Beabots and Isabelle. When she shifted Jules from her right to left shoulder, she saw Rafe and Mica talking. She didn’t know what Rafe had said to Mica but Mica’s demeanor had changed. He walked toward her, his intense blue eyes riveted on her face. That was one of the things she’d always loved about Mica. He wasn’t the kind of person whose attention flitted from person to person like a hummingbird. He focused on one person at a time, as if there was no one else in the world.
She remembered that. And so many other things.
Like the feel of his lips on hers. The way he held her to his chest with so much strength he didn’t need two arms. But she wasn’t here to tell him those things.
She didn’t dare.
“Mind if I hold my son?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she replied, handing Jules to him. Jules smiled at Mica and the pacifier in his mouth dropped out. Grace had tied a ribbon to the pacifier and clipped it to Jules’s shirt, so it didn’t fall far.
“Hey, buddy. How’re you doin’? Forgive your dad for the tape incident?”
Jules whacked Mica’s cheek and giggled.
Mica blinked in surprise, then chuckled. “Does this mean we’re even?”
“I’m guessing.”
Mrs. Beabots smiled up at Mica. “I just had an idea. Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night, Mica?”
“Mrs. Beabots, no,” Grace protested. “You’ve done too much already.”
“Nonsense. I’ll make something special. Mica should spend time with you and Jules.”
Grace’s phone pinged. She looked down at the caller ID. “It’s Etienne. Again.”
“And he is?” Mica asked with an edge to his voice. Was that...jealousy? His face was too placid, perhaps too carefully controlled, for Grace to tell what he was thinking. Or feeling.
“My team leader. We had a deadline moved up.”
“On New Year’s?” he scoffed.
“There are no holidays in haute couture,” she grumbled and moved off to the side to take the call.
Within minutes, Grace heard the tinkle of a knife against a crystal wineglass and Sam’s voice calling everyone back to the living room.
“Sorry, Etienne. But the wedding...” she said haltingly.
“You want us to design a wedding dress?” Etienne asked.
“No. No. I’m at a wedding. I’ll have to call you back tomorrow.”
“Grace! Tu es une exaspération!” He hung up.
Grace put her phone away, feeling guilty. Her evening out would cause her team to fall another eight hours behind. Another workday lost. Coming to America might have been the worst move she’d made yet.
No, she admonished herself. Weeks and months from now, she’d be glad she told Mica about Jules and asked for his help.
The crowd gathered in the living room. The massive fireplace was built of rock and stone, with an opening so large, Grace thought she could walk into it without stooping. The wood mantel was covered with fresh cedar and pine boughs and studded with silver beads, balls, white lights and white satin ribbons.
Judge Harry Miller, a tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man, held a bible and stood between Gina and Sam. Gina clutched a bouquet of white and red roses, while Sam, dressed in a black tuxedo, looked dashing and quite possibly more radiant than the bride as he reached out to take her hand.
Grace hadn’t moved or breathed since she’d taken her place next to Mica, who still held Jules. The room fell silent as Judge Miller began the ceremony, but Grace hardly noticed anyone...except Mica.
Grace shivered when their shoulders touched, and the way Jules snuggled down in the crook of Mica’s neck melted her heart. But Mica stared straight ahead, watching the interplay between his mother and Sam with an intensity she could almost touch.
Suddenly, it struck her that this happy moment for Gina might not be so joyful for Mica. Mica had been close with his father and often spoke reverently of Angelo. Mica loved his father, but it was more than that. He idolized him.
Tonight, his mother was marrying another man. Liz had told Grace the story about Gina and Sam and that their love for each other went back more than thirty years, to when Gina had first moved to Indian Lake. She’d barely been out of her teens and had promised Angelo she would come to America once he had established himself. Before she’d married him and moved to the farm, Gina had lived in town. And there she’d met Sam Crenshaw.
They’d gone to the movies and had sodas together and Sam had lost his heart, according to Maddie.
But Gina was a woman of honor and though she’d told Sam she loved him, she had been unwilling to go back on her promise to Angelo.
Then, two years ago, Angelo had had a heart attack and died one afternoon when he and Rafe were putting Rowan through his paces on the training track the two of them had built with their own hands.
With their own hands.
That was a Barzonni claim to fame. Everything on this farm had been built, sawed, painted, plowed and seeded by a Barzonni. Mica shared in that history.
Grace tilted her head to the left and watched Mica’s reaction as Gina put a ring on Sam’s finger.
Had Mica just winced? Or was he reacting to Jules?
The judge continued reciting the vows.
Gina’s “I do” was loud and clear and overflowed with happiness.
As Sam put a ring on Gina’s finger, Grace could swear Mica’s face had paled. In the flickering firelight, she was certain she detected a mist in his eyes.
Her heart went out to him. She’d been so enthralled and immersed in her own concerns, her business and her baby that she hadn’t made room for all the emotions that Mica was going through. She’d been prepared for his shock and his anger. But this? What was all this?
This wedding had been sprung on all of them. Mica hadn’t had a chance to process any of it. And talk about bad timing. Grace had shown up on his doorstep with his baby on the day Sam had proposed.
Did he feel his mother was dishonoring his father? Or did he feel that his mother had been cheated of real love all her life, and that this was Gina’s last grasp at happiness?
Mica had always kept his emotions in check. Even last year, he hadn’t been romantic or rhapsodic about their relationship. At the time, and in the months since, she’d chalked it up to the fact that their time together was so short. She’d always intended to return to Paris. Like she did now. But maybe she’d mistaken his need to protect himself for a lack of care.
It was possible all she was feeling was guilt, but the truth was, she’d loved him since she was fifteen. Coming back to Indian Lake, learning about the accident and losing herself in his mournful and confused blue eyes had confirmed it. Or so she thought. But this flood of compassion and warmth for Mica, of caring for him as much as she cared about Jules or herself, was new. And she didn’t know what to make of it.
She no more belonged in Indian Lake than she did on Mars. But right now, Mica needed a friend. He was hurting and lost and she wanted to ease his pain.
Grace slid her arm around Mica’s waist and leaned into him. She wished she knew exactly what he was feeling so she could say the right thing. Mica was extraordinarily silent about nearly everything.
In some ways, this moment was no different. He didn’t speak or even look at her. But he didn’t move away, didn’t flinch when she rested her head on his shoulder.
The gesture was so slight, but coming from Mica, it was meaningful. With each hour she spent with him, she was beginning to understand him better.
She simply wanted him to know that she cared about him—and wanted to help, even if he didn’t want her.