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BEFORE FRANCESCA KNEW it, September turned into October, and December came fast. She was spending more time with James. Colleagues, friends, and Peter referred to them as a couple—the perfect couple. As did James, but in Francesca’s mind, their relationship was a physical one, not emotional. By Francesca’s standards, it wasn’t based on love or the deep-seated emotions that came to pass between two people meant to be together. That love and emotion were reserved in Francesca’s heart for Tommy. It always would be.
Peter was thrilled by the turn of events, and he’d already set the wheels in motion. James would be offered a seat at Thompson and Associates board of directors table. Peter wouldn’t table the offer until the vows were said, but that was a matter of time. Days ago, James had asked Peter for his blessing to ask Francesca for her hand in marriage.
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JAMES JOINED FRANCESCA AT THE FRENCH doors and handed her the flute of Kristal. “You look deep in thought. Are you resenting me for having turned down your father’s invitation to spend New Year’s Eve on the beaches of Ibiza with him and Tiffani?”
Francesca shook her head. “I think you know I’m not a fan of Tiffani’s. Besides, this was perfect. Dinner was wonderful, the company is great, and the view is spectacular. Look at how pretty everything looks covered in snow,” Francesca said, gazing out the patio doors to where a white moon cast a soft, silver glow over the city. Thick, large flakes of snow drifted, weighed down tree branches and blanketed rooftops and everything under layers of white. It was a scenic winter wonderland that lent a romantic feel to the night.
“It is a beautiful sight,” James skimmed fingers over her arms. She looked stunning in the short, teal Fendi dress he’d picked up for her. It tightly hugged the curves he’d become intimate with over the past few months. “Will you stay the night, Frankie?”
“If you’d like me to.”
“I would.” James clamped a hand on her arm when she started to swill her champagne. “Not yet. It’s thirty seconds to midnight.”
“All right.”
“Come sit with me.” James took Francesca’s hand, led her to the fireplace. Helping her down onto the Persian rug, before the crackle of flame and wood, they waited for the stroke of midnight. At the sound of the chiming clock announcing the incoming year, James touched his glass to hers. “Happy New Years, Frankie,” he said, brushing his lips to hers then, reaching into his jacket pocket, got down on one knee.
“I love the time we spend together, Frankie. I love being with you, and I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to come home to you at night. Will you do me the honor of doing all those things for me? Will you marry me, Frankie?”
Although Francesca had seen it coming and worked through in her head what she’d say when the moment came, she froze. Nausea rose so fast, so sharp it stole Francesca’s breath. For a long moment, the snap of burning wood was the only sound in the deafening silence of the room as she stared at the diamond ring.
Feeling the thump of panic, Francesca bolted to her feet and put distance between them. That ring symbolized so many things Francesca wasn’t ready to deal with: change, a new future, a fresh start, stability in her life. It brought finality to Tommy and her. The thought made Francesca’s chest constrict, but she needed to stop aimlessly drifting through life, waiting for Tommy’s ghost to appear.
Determined it was time to move on, to push aside, once and for all, the notion of Tommy returning to her, Francesca looked into James’ eyes and saw James’ eyes narrow and his jaw clench.
“You’re supposed to say yes, I’d love to, James, without a second thought.”
She’d hurt him, embarrassed him, and that wasn’t her intention. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that marriage is a serious matter, and I... Do you think we’ve known each other long enough to make an informed decision? I mean, we’ve been together for less than six months.”
Everything about James hardened. “There’s no timetable to falling in love. It just happens. I fell in love with you the moment you walked into the courtroom, but it’s now clear to me you don’t feel the same way I do. If you did, you wouldn’t be questioning my proposal—us. I’ve misread you all along.”
Francesca watched James walk away from her toward the patio doors.
“To think that all the times I made love to you was nothing but a roll in the sheets for you. You led me to believe you were sexually unsophisticated. You’re anything but. Isn’t that the truth? I’ve been spending my nights with a professional.” James’ anger cut through Francesca like razor blades, but she blamed no one but herself for inflicting the type of pain that hatched such hurtful words.
Francesca never meant to hurt James. He’d been patient, caring, and understanding. He hadn’t once pressed her for intimacy, waited until she came around. James had been the perfect gentleman all these months, and now she’d hurt him for doing nothing more than love her.
Tommy’s shadow walked beside Francesca, but James was here, flesh and blood with his heart asking to love her.
“I’m sorry, James. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just, well, that you surprised me.” Francesca’s words stumbled over one another.
James slammed his glass of Johnny Walker on the bar, spilling half of it and startling her. “Goddamnit, Frankie. Proposals are meant to be spontaneous. They normally trigger a positive, emotional response. Not a regrettable one, which is what I hear in your voice, see on your face.”
The injured expression on James’ face was clear, and it tied her stomach in knots. “I didn’t mean to upset you, James.”
“I’m not upset. I’ m disappointed, Frankie. I’ve tried to do everything right by you.” There was a sharp note of irritation. “Your father told me you might react this way, but I dismissed him.”
“My father? What’s he got to do with anything?”
“I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago to ask his permission for your hand in marriage. I’m wondering now why I bothered. You try to do everything right, and this is what you get.” James hurled the whiskey glass into the fireplace.
Francesca wrapped arms around herself when crystal hit brick and shattered into pieces.
“He told me you’re hung up on someone from your past. Someone who’s been dead for years, but who you won’t let go,” James said, walking to Francesca, and fisting his hands in her hair pulled her face inches from his. “Were you thinking of him when we were in bed, Frankie? When I was inside you?”
Putting on her lawyerly poker face, Francesca braced herself to lie. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t do that. I ... I love you too much to think of anyone other than you when we make love.”
“If you loved me, you would have accepted my proposal without hesitation.”
“It’s hard for me to open my heart to anyone, to let people in. People leave you. It’s been that way for me since I lost my mother,” and Tommy. “Please let go of me, James.”
“Yes, I’m sorry.” James gentled his hold of Francesca’s hair. “Did I hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” Francesca started to raise a hand to massage her scalp but resisted the urge for fear of triggering a reaction from James.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“It’s not something that comes easily for me to say. It brings back too many memories.”
“I’m sorry I reacted as I did. It’s just that I love you so much, Frankie, and your father telling me about a past lover and you turning my proposal down. Well, it all played badly in my head.”
Her father was going to get an earful for stoking James with his misguided notions. “I understand.”
“Do you, Frankie? Do you really? You know I’d never hurt you.” James tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you in love with this, Tommy, still? If you are, I’d understand. He was your first love. I know how that feels.”
A frown creased Francesca’s brow. “You do?”
“Of course. I, too, had a first love. Her name was Jasmine White. She was my high school sweetheart, and we spent every minute together. On our way from the prom, we were hit head-on by a drunk driver.” James breathed deeply. “She was killed on impact. I, unfortunately, survived the accident. I’ve had to live my entire life with the guilt of surviving that night.”
Francesca’s face softened when she saw the pain in James’ eyes. Walking over to him, she lay a hand on his cheek. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, James.”
“It was a long time ago, but it still hurts. I think it always will.” James took her face in his hands. “She’s an important part of my past. I’d hoped you never expect me to forget Jasmine.”
Sensing his pain, feeling it herself, Francesca’s hands came up to meet his, and he felt a sense of unity with her. “I’d never dream of it.”
“And I’d never dream of making you forget your past.”
Francesca felt the room fill with oxygen, and a wave of love washed over her for James. “I would be proud to be your wife, James.”
“You’re sure, Frankie?”
Francesca’s eyes tracked over to his. “I am.”
At her words, James fished into his pants pocket for the ring. “It was my great-grandmothers. I hope you like it.” Dimples flashed as he slid the shimmering diamond, encircled in rubies on Francesca’s finger.
“It’s beautiful, James.” Francesca held her left hand up to admire.
“You’ve made me the happiest man alive, Frankie.” The tears rolling down James’ cheeks, he lowered his mouth to kiss her deeply and sweetly. At the end of the kiss, Francesca reached for his hand and led him to the bedroom.
