“Thank you. And please come again.” Julianne smiled at the departing customer in her mother’s shop. The smile was automatic, even though she was exhausted. She looked at the clock. Five minutes to closing, and three customers still roamed the store, not looking anywhere near ready to pay for their purchases.
Hannah, on the other hand, looked ready to go another three hours. Julianne had never seen anyone take to a job as Hannah had. In the six weeks they’d been working with Monica in the shop, Hannah had learned more about cooking than Julianne had in her entire life.
Her mother rounded the counter and leaned close. “It’s over.”
“We’re closing early?”
“The trial, honey. The trial’s over.”
Julianne’s heart pounded. “Nico?”
“Guilty on all counts.”
“What does it mean?”
“His lawyer said he’ll probably get seven to ten years.” She lowered her voice. “Nicky’s passed the word that you’re to be left alone.”
“Can I believe that will happen?”
“Apparently so. He’s also been ordered to make restitution to some victims, particularly your friend in San Francisco. There are ways around that, of course, but he says going to do it. And, honey, he also says there’s a trust fund in your name that should’ve come to you when you turned twenty-one.”
Shock took her breath away. “How much?”
“I guess I’m ready,” a customer said, dumping her items on the counter.
Julianne would have asked Hannah to ring her up, but she was busy with another customer, talking her into a full set of oven-proof skillets. Monica, meanwhile, grinned, enjoying herself at Julianne’s expense.
How much?
Monica kept her waiting until the last customer left and the door was locked. She and Hannah would go to the back room to take care of the day’s receipts while Julianne straightened the shelves.
“Two million,” Monica said, her excitement barely contained.
“Dollars?”
“Apparently.”
Hannah looked from one woman to the other. “What’s going on?”
“My father apparently left me a trust fund. Mom, that’s dirty money. How can I take it?”
“You want to give it to charity?”
Julianne considered it. Yes. Yes, she wanted to do exactly that, part of it, anyway. “I want you to have half.”
“What? No. It’s yours.”
“Things should’ve been different. I’m turning half over to you.”
“We’ll talk about it later.” She headed toward the back room.
Hannah grinned. “Zach is going to be so surprised.”
After six weeks Julianne still hadn’t told Hannah she wasn’t going back to the Prom, that the marriage was a fraud. Hannah had made huge progress, but she was still naive. She didn’t even think it was ridiculous of Julianne to have stayed away from her husband this long—or that Zach hadn’t been to see her either.
Julianne had mastered the art of excuses. And she’d stopped crying herself to sleep.
Why, if Zach Keller walked right through that door right at that second, she’d be able to resist him completely. She would keep her chin up and her pulse under control. Julianne grabbed a dust cloth and walked down the first aisle, her shoulders back.
Hannah wasn’t the only one who’d made progress.
Zach stared through the window of the upscale kitchenware store. Closed. He’d arrived ten minutes too late. Then he spotted movement down one of the aisles—Julianne, dusting a shelf.
He felt gut punched. She looked the same but…happier. She danced as she dusted, and seemed to be singing, too. He’d never seen her that carefree at the castle. He hadn’t encouraged her moments of exuberance that seemed to come from out of nowhere then just as quickly disappeared when he squelched them.
He hadn’t been good for her. He knew that.
And he was here to set her free. He carried divorce papers in his pocket. He wouldn’t keep her from living her life—or from her plan, whatever it was—any longer.
She spotted him and froze, her hand pressed to her belly. Then she dropped the duster, ran to the door, was all thumbs unlocking it. She jerked open the door and threw herself in his arms, landing hard, almost knocking him down.
“You came! You finally came!”
He heard her voice shake, then felt her body follow suit as she cried, sobbed, actually. He hadn’t expected that kind of greeting. He’d expected—
He didn’t know what the hell he’d expected. But now he was torn between wrapping her up in his arms and never letting go—and giving her the divorce papers and her freedom…
Wait. The minute she’d seen him, she’d touched her abdomen, as if…as if she was pregnant?
And she hadn’t told him?
“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, peppering his face with kisses, transferring her salty tears onto his face. Emotional. She was way too emotional. Definitely pregnant. And she’d kept it from him.
“When were you planning on telling me?” he asked, ordered really, as he moved her back.
“If you would’ve called, I would’ve told you.” She swiped her fingers across her cheeks. Her smile widened.
“Something like that, you should’ve taken the initiative, don’t you think?”
She frowned. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear it from me.”
“Not want to—? Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you sent me away.” Her voice got soft, her frown deepened. “Why would I call and tell you I missed you?”
His mind went blank for a moment. “I meant the baby. Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?”
“What baby?”
He dropped his gaze to her belly. She had her hand there again, as if protecting their child. “Our baby.”
He saw Monica and Hannah approach. Hannah picked up speed, and threw herself into his arms much as Julianne had done. Julianne stared at him, fury gathering in her stormy hazel eyes.
“What’s this about a baby?” Monica asked.
“He thinks I’m pregnant,” Julianne said, crossing her arms.
“Are you?”
Julianne’s mouth dropped open. “No, Mother, I am not. I have no idea why he thinks so.”
Hannah had stepped back and was watching the scene with great interest, Zach realized. And Monica’s eyes were sparkling. He needed to get Julianne alone. To finish the conversation. She wasn’t pregnant. Wishful thinking…
“That’s why you’re here,” Julianne said, her voice rising as she came to her own conclusions. “You thought I was pregnant. You didn’t want me back. You just wanted me because—”
“Of course he wanted you back,” Hannah said firmly. “He loves you. Anyone can see that. Why wouldn’t he want you back?”
“Did you come because you thought I was pregnant or because you love me and can’t live without me?” Julianne challenged.
The divorce papers tucked inside his jacket might as well have caught fire. He started to sweat.
Monica took Hannah by the arm. “We’ll leave you to your conversation. Lock up when you’re done, honey.”
Zach looked everywhere but at Julianne while he waited for his sister and his mother-in-law to go. When the store was quiet, he took a step toward his wife.
His wife.
He didn’t have to give her up. Legally she was bound to him. He could make her stay. He wanted her to stay.
“You haven’t answered my question,” she said. “As usual.”
“I love you.”
She lifted her chin abruptly, but she also swallowed before she spoke. “That’s why you came? To tell me that?”
He pulled the papers from his pocket and passed them to her. “This is why I came.”
He expected her to get mad, to toss them back in his face. Instead she read them silently, accusingly.
“Do you have a pen?” she asked.
“I don’t want you to sign them. If you do, I understand. I won’t fight you. But I don’t want you to.”
“Why wouldn’t you fight for me?”
“Sweetheart, I would fight mad dogs and Englishmen, and the Cyclops, and runaway trains, and anything else that came along, in order to keep you safe. But I won’t make you stay if you don’t want to.”
“So, you’re just giving me options?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t fight?”
He hesitated. “You want me to fight?”
Her voice became almost a whisper. “I was never wooed, you know. You forced me to the altar. I’d like to be—” She made a gesture of helplessness.
“Wooed.”
She nodded, her lips trembling.
“That’s fair. Can I take the rest of my life to do that?”
He wouldn’t have thought she had any more tears left in her, but they flowed as she nodded again. “I love you, Zach.”
He took her in his arms and held her close. He’d missed her. Every day had been hell without her.
“I’m coming with a dowry this time,” she said against his chest. “A trust fund from my father. A million dollars. I want to use it to help the victims. A fund separate from yours. One where I would be able to help in a different way.” She leaned back. “Are you still in business?”
“My actions are being overlooked. Officially and unofficially. But I’m moving the operation to Seattle.” Which was a condensed version of what had happened and all the negotiations he’d endured. He could explain it all later.
“Think you can stand living in Seattle?”
“The Prom?”
“Will still be a base of operations, a safe place to come and go, but I can work anywhere. I’ve decided it’s time to start living.”
“I can live with that.”
“What about your plan?”
“It keeps evolving. I’ve decided to keep it fluid, not get locked into any one vision.” She leaned back and smiled that brilliant smile of hers. “Right now my plan is to find the nearest hotel and get you naked.”
That was a plan he could endorse.