HE’D DONE THE right thing, Philippe told himself. Walking away. If he had stayed, he would have lost his temper. A leopard didn’t change his spots, indeed.
Heaving a groan, he threw himself facedown on his hotel bed. Why was she being so stubborn? He was offering her a wonderful life. A home, a family. Mon Dieu, he’d told her he loved her!
And what had she done? Spat it back into his face. Suggested he was lying to get his way.
Only after your back was against the wall.
Argh! He flipped over onto his back. When they left the hospital, he’d been consumed with worry. Making sure Jenna and the baby came home were foremost in his mind. He intended to tell her his feelings, but then they started arguing about France and the conversation got away from him. But he did tell her eventually. Je t’aime. I love you. Even a woman who didn’t speak French had to know what he meant. And if she didn’t understand, hadn’t he implied his feelings enough? After all, he’d told her he couldn’t lose another person whom he loved. Wasn’t the meaning obvious?
She hadn’t said she loved him back.
A hole opened in his chest, the pain ripping through him. Reminding him he was, again, alone with no one to love him in return.
Jenna, with her wary wall, had a point. In fact, he knew she was right. He should have listened to his own advice and walked away as soon as Jenna started slipping under his skin. Instead, like a fool, he kept coming back for more.
Perhaps if he had, his chest wouldn’t feel so battered and empty. Turns out he didn’t need someone to die to feel alone.
The biggest irony of all? After years of protecting his heart from pain, he was destroyed by a woman who played the game better.
Jenna sighed and began counting the syringe kits for the third time. No one ever mentioned the downside of keeping your pride. Dignity might let you walk with your head held high, but it also left you with a six-foot-two hole in your heart.
“At least I’ve got you,” she said to her belly. Baby, at least, seemed to be doing better. There hadn’t been any more spotting or cramping, which was good. In fact, she noticed today her pants were too snug.
“You look a million miles away.” Shirley joined her behind the counter, a stack of admission papers in her hand. “Everything okay?”
Far from it. Everything was blown to smithereens.
“I had to use an elastic band to button my pants this morning,” she said out loud.
“Because of the baby or the breakfast treats?”
“That’s not funny.”
Her friend held up a hand. “Sorry. Didn’t realize that was a sticking point now.”
No, Jenna was the one who was sorry. Shirley didn’t know that talk of pastry poked at the hole in her heart.
At least she was at work. She refused to waste her time crying over what might have been. Give the sting a couple days to fade and she’d be fine. Alone, but fine.
“Oh, for crying out loud.” She started counting the syringe kits again. “I’ve forgotten how to count to ten. Stupid baby brain.”
Shirley gave her a look but fortunately decided to keep any comments to herself. “We’ve got a new patient arriving this afternoon,” she said. “Coming over from the hospital to go on hospice.”
“And so goes the circle of life,” Jenna replied. “We live, we die and in between we struggle not to make fools of ourselves.”
“Wow, thanks for the wisdom, Miss Sunshine.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be witchy. I’m just tired.” Despite being exhausted, she hadn’t slept very much. Another reason why she was unable to count the kits.
Shirley slid the kits to her side of the desk. “What happened?” When Jenna finished explaining, her friend practically pushed her into a chair. “Oh, Jenna. I’m so sorry! What are you doing at work on your feet, you idiot?”
“I’m fine,” Jenna replied, slapping her friend’s hands away. “Work won’t hurt me. Besides, I need to keep my mind occupied.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” Shirley asked. She pointed to the saline bags that were still uncounted.
“How do you think?”
“I can’t believe he walked out like that—and that you let him.”
“What was I supposed to do? Beg him to stay?”
Their final goodbye wouldn’t stop haunting her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the look on Philippe’s face when he said goodbye. The light in his eyes faded away, leaving them dark and shuttered. “If he wanted to stay, he would have.”
“Oh, sure—totally,” Shirley drawled. “I know I would stay if I told someone I loved them and they threw it back in my face.”
Not her, too. Philippe painting her as the bad person she understood. Didn’t like, but understood. Shirley was supposed to be on her side, though. “He didn’t say he loved me. He said he needed me to make a family.”
“He didn’t say anything else?”
“Something in French that was probably supposed to be romantic, I’m not sure.”
“Do you remember what it was?”
“Does it really matter?” He was gone. Probably caught the first flight he could get.
“No, but I’m curious,” Shirley said. “I never got to try out my French immersion software, and I want to see if it stuck.”
Jenna shook her head. She really wasn’t planning to get into a word-for-word recap. It hurt too much. “Jet something.”
“Was it je t’aime?”
“I think so.”
“You idiot!” Her friend smacked her on the shoulder with a force that sent her chair rolling backward. “That’s ‘I love you’ in French.”
He’d said the words? Jenna’s heart started to skip until common sense shut it down. “It doesn’t matter. People say ‘I love you’ all the time and don’t mean it.”
“Some of them do.”
“Yeah, well, he also meant it when he said he had no intention of ever marrying or having a family, and there is a lot more evidence to support that claim.”
“True,” Shirley replied. “I mean, he only flew halfway across the world so he could bring you breakfast and hang out with your dementia patients.” She waved to Lola, who was straightening magazines in the entertainment room. “Oh, and spent the night in the emergency room holding your hand.”
“Because the baby is important to him. She—it—means the continuation of his family line. What?” Shirley had rolled her eyes.
“You just said he had no intention of ever having a family. Clearly he does if that baby matters.”
“The baby’s name.” But even as she snapped the response, Jenna knew that wasn’t true. The baby mattered very much, so much he’d wanted her to go to France so he could keep an eye on her pregnancy.
Because he wanted a family. Something he claimed to never want. Was it possible she was wrong? Or did wishful thinking have her hearing what she wanted?
“Did you know that Philippe accused me of having daddy issues?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. He said I didn’t trust him because I lumped him in with my father, or something to that effect.”
Her friend started counting the syringe kits.
“Don’t tell me you agree with him,” Jenna said.
“Well, you don’t really trust men,” Shirley replied. “Whenever we go out, you shoot down most of the guys who talk to you.”
“With good reason.”
“I’m not saying you don’t have reason. I’m just saying you don’t trust many of the guys you meet.”
“Because I’ve seen the damage the wrong guy can do.”
“You mean guys like your dad,” Shirley replied.
“I...” She didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. “I’m going to go down to the front desk to see if Nelo knows anything more about our new patient,” she said.
Shirley took the hint. “Suit yourself. There are eleven kits. You’re welcome.”
Daddy issues. She did not compare every man to her father. Jenna marched around the workstation to the elevator. Before she could push the button, however, the doors slid open to reveal the very man they’d been discussing.
Jenna’s heart stopped. What was he doing here? “I—I thought you were going home.”
He was dressed for business in a dark suit and cashmere coat. The same outfit he wore his first morning on the island, only this time he had the benefit of a fresh shower and shave. Thankfully sunglasses covered his eyes, meaning she didn’t have to see his shuttered gaze again.
“I am.” The flatness in his voice made her cringe. “I should have departed earlier, but...” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
He had a gift bag in his had. “I wanted to drop this off before I left,” he said, handing it to her.
Jenna didn’t know what to say; she was too focused on the idea of him leaving. Taking the bag, she looked at it and saw the gift label read “For Lola.”
“You’re bringing a present for Lola?”
“Something I promised last time I was here. I didn’t want her to think I forgot.”
It was more likely Lola had forgotten the conversation and the promise. “She’s in the entertainment room if you want to give her the present yourself,” she said.
“Thank you, but I cannot stay. I have a conference call in an hour. I thought...” Once again, he shook his head. “Tell Lola I said goodbye.”
Still no goodbye for her.
“Philippe, please.” She stopped him from boarding the elevator again. “I... I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t want us to part with unsettled business.”
“But you still want to part.” When she went to speak, he held up a hand. “You don’t have to elaborate. I accept your apology.”
“Thank you.” She waited for the relief to arrive and free the tension from her shoulders, but it didn’t come.
“When do you leave?” she asked him.
“I have a flight out of Boston this afternoon. I leave the island at ten.”
Five hours from now. He’d be gone for real this time. No miraculous appearance off the elevator. Her heart sank even as she reminded herself the decision to stay behind had been hers.
“The...um...that is... I spoke to my ob-gyn yesterday. She suggested I have an ultrasound next month. I will let you know when it’s scheduled, in case you decide you want to attend.”
“You know I will.”
Jenna nodded. Was this to be their new normal? Awkward, cordial conversation about tests and appointment dates? A lump the size of a boulder rose in her throat. “I guess I should let you go, then,” she said. “I don’t want you to miss your call.”
“Merci.”
“Philippe, wait!” Once again, she stopped him from stepping on the elevator. “Can I at least get a goodbye?” she asked, hating herself a little for the request, but needing the closure more.
A look crossed his face, and then he nodded. “Oui. Of course.”
He combed his fingers into her hair, the way he did when they made love, and lifted her face to his. Jenna looked into his eyes, hoping for one more look into their deep violet depths, but the sunglasses kept them hidden. She pictured them anyway, the image seared into her memory.
Dipping his head, he kissed her softly. Sweetly. Too sweet for her tastes. Clutching his shoulders, she deepened the kiss, workplace professionalism be damned.
“Je t’aime, ma chérie,” he whispered when they parted.
“I...” Say it, her heart urged. Tell him.
The words stuck in her throat. No longer able to look him in the eye, she focused on the base of his throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “So am I.”
Ignoring the look on Shirley’s face, Jenna turned around and walked past the nurses’ station to the entertainment room.
“For me?” Lola’s eyes lit up with surprise when Jenna handed her the bag. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to open it to find out.” It was hard to speak while holding back tears, but she managed.
Lola tossed the bright blue tissue paper on the floor and let out a laugh. “That’s why I couldn’t find him! He was in the bag!” She pulled out a stuffed gray and white cat.
“I was just thinking about Beatrice,” Shirley said as they were leaving work a short while later.
Jenna was only half listening. Her mind was still at the elevator hearing Philippe whisper I love you. The reply had been right there in her throat. All she had to do was say it aloud. Why couldn’t she? Why couldn’t she trust that Philippe’s whispers meant something? Meant forever.
“What made you think about her?” she asked.
Her friend shrugged as she burrowed through her pocketbook. “I don’t know. You and Philippe and how her inheritance was the reason you met him in the first place. Makes me wonder what she’d say about this whole mess.”
“Probably something like ‘don’t worry about what anybody else thinks,’” Jenna replied.
“Maybe.” Pulling out her car keys, the blonde pressed the auto-lock button. A few feet away, her SUV’s lights flashed. “She ever talk to you about her husband?”
“Her partner in crime? All the time. Called him the love of her life.”
The conversation was making Jenna’s tears threaten again. Bad enough she had to fight them back every time Lola showed her that stuffed cat.
“Did you know she once told me that marrying him was the greatest adventure of her life?” Shirley said.
Jenna nodded. Beatrice had shared the same memory with her several times. “What’s your point?”
“No point,” her friend replied. “I think it’s interesting, though, that she considered marriage her greatest adventure, and then left you money to have an adventure of your own. Makes you wonder what she really wanted you to do.”
“I doubt she expected me to meet Philippe.” Beatrice was awesome, but she wasn’t psychic.
Shirley opened her driver’s door. “True. On the other hand, it does make you wonder if she thought you should take a chance on something more than a trip to France.”
Suddenly Jenna got the point of the conversation. “Subtle.”
“Don’t blame me,” her friend replied. “Blame Beatrice. Call me later if you feel like talking.”
Jenna’s phone began to buzz the second she shrugged off her coat. Kicking herself because her first thought was about Philippe, she checked the call screen. Not Philippe. Or Shirley, either. It was her mother.
The two of them hadn’t talked for a couple of days. The last thing Jenna was in the mood to hear about was her parents’ extramarital affair with one another.
She could only ignore the inevitable for so long, though. Sooner or later, she would need to talk to the woman.
“Hi, Mom,” she said as she lay down on the sofa. “What’s new?”
A gut-wrenching cough answered her greeting. “Sorry,” her mother croaked.
Awesome. They could be miserable together. Jenna waited until her mother caught her breath before talking. “You sound horrible.”
“I feel worse. This will teach me for waiting on my flu shot. How are you feeling?”
“Just got home from work.” No sense telling her about the hospital visit. There was nothing the woman could do at this point. And she definitely wasn’t going to tell her about Philippe.
Instead she forced herself to ask her next question. “Dad taking good care of you? Bringing you hot tea, crackers and all that?”
Even if her mother hadn’t paused, Jenna would have guessed her response. “You know your father. He doesn’t do well with sickness,” she said. “Plus he needs to keep his distance so he doesn’t get sick, too. Things are crazy busy at work for him. Lots of business dinners...”
“His new inventory manager attending these dinners, too?” she asked.
“Your father works with all sorts of people, Jenna.”
In other words, yes. Looked like this reunion would be shorter than usual. Maybe it was because she was emotionally drained, but she couldn’t stomach the excuses anymore. “Why do you take him back? He does this to you every single time.”
“I love him,” her mom said simply.
“But he doesn’t love you.”
“That’s not true. He tells me he loves me all the time.”
“Then turns around and leaves you home sick while he goes out to dinner.” And dumps you as soon as he finds a replacement. “Actions speak louder than words, Mom. When’s the last time he did something nice for you, or anyone, for that matter?”
“You don’t understand. Your father has a lot of people demanding things of him. The last thing he needs is me distracting him with a lot of whiny demands. I’m lucky he spends as much time with me as he does.”
It was the same load of bogus excuses her mother gave every time. “All I’m saying is that maybe there’s someone out there that’s better than Dad. Someone who... I don’t know...sticks around.”
Someone who wants to build a family, a voice said in her head.
On the other end of the line, her mother sniffed—and it wasn’t from the flu. “I didn’t call to hear a lecture about relationships from my single-mother daughter. Your father and I are back together, and that’s that.”
“Fine,” Jenna said. She didn’t want to have this conversation, either. Her mother was going to stay in her bubble of delusion forever, and there was nothing Jenna could do. Some things never changed.
Pleading a headache, she told her mother she’d call her back and let the phone drop on the floor.
“Your grandmother’s in love with a loser,” she told the baby. “How on earth a woman can be so blind to the obvious is beyond me. I mean, the guy’s taking his girlfriend out while she’s home with the flu. All I did was complain about feeling tired and your daddy made me two different kinds of tea.”
Actions speak louder than words...
Her father would never bring her mother pastry or hang out at a nursing home hunting for an invisible cat. God knew he’d never fly across the world for her.
Or move heaven and earth to keep her safe.
How on earth could Philippe have thought she was comparing him to her father? There was no contest. Her father was a bastard. Philippe...
Loved her.
The awareness of it hit her like a ton of bricks. Philippe loved her. All this time she’d been afraid of falling in love with a man who didn’t love her, and he was saying it every day. With every pastry, every neck rub. She’d simply been too blind—or too scared—to see the truth.
But Philippe wasn’t scared. Philippe, who in his own words had lost everyone he ever loved, was brave enough to love her.
She pressed her hand to her stomach. “What have I done, baby?”
Ten past ten. Philippe checked his watch against the clock behind the concierge desk. The times were identical. If he didn’t leave soon, he would miss his flight to Boston.
Maybe two more minutes.
Why bother? He already delayed his departure a day on the chance Jenna would knock on his door. Now he was stretching out his ultimatum. It was time to accept that Jenna wasn’t coming. He didn’t know what made him foolish enough to think that she might. Hope was a very stupid emotion.
No more.
From now on, whatever love was left in his heart belonged to his child. For as long as she was in his life. A bitter, gloomy thought, he knew. It appeared the brooding he’d spent his life fighting had won the battle. Why not? He was tired of the struggle. His heart didn’t feel like pretending it wasn’t broken.
The doorman approached with his keys. “Your rental car is parked out front, Mr. d’Usay. I put your bag in the trunk.”
“I hope you enjoyed your stay at the Merchant Seafarer,” he added when Philippe handed him a tip.
“You have an excellent hotel.” Thankfully the man didn’t ask if he’d had a pleasant stay, saving Philippe from having to make up a suitable answer. “Could you leave a message for Mr. Merchant letting him know I will email him soon?”
“Absolutely, sir. Have a good trip.”
Nodding his goodbye, Philippe made his way through the front door. True to the doorman’s word, his car was parked and running a few feet down the curb.
He was reaching for the door handle when he heard the sharp blare of a car horn, followed by another. Three, in fact, in rapid succession. Looking up, he saw a red sedan barreling up the hotel driveway.
It was Jenna. She stopped the car next to his.
“What are you doing?” he hollered as she leaped from the driver’s seat. Driving like a maniac. Didn’t she know she could have an accident?
“We were afraid we’d be too late,” she said.
Too late for... His jaw dropped in disbelief. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? He was afraid to guess; all his other assumptions had been wrong.
But it was there. In eyes warmer and greener than he’d ever seen. Like the color of plants in the spring.
“Iloveyou,” she said, the words rushing out as one. “I love you, Philippe d’Usay.”
“Are you sure?” He was almost afraid to believe what he was hearing.
“Yes. I think I have loved you from the moment we met, but I was too scared—too stupid—to let myself feel it.”
Listening to her words, it felt as though the sun burst through the clouds. The fullness in his heart chased away the darkness. “I love you, too.”
“I know.” She gave him a watery smile. “And I am so very sorry I didn’t believe you. I was wrong the other day. I didn’t understand...”
Oh dear God. The French. He was such an idiot. “I should have told you in English.”
“No, that’s not it. I didn’t understand what love looked like. I thought love was something people talked about, but it’s not. It’s something you do.”
With a shaking hand, she took his and pressed it to her stomach. “I want to show this baby what love really is. I want us to be a family. The next generation of d’Usays.” She gazed up through damp lashes. “If you’ll have me.”
They were the most beautiful words he’d ever heard. “Oh, ma chérie, you’ve had me since the day on the terrace. I love you. I will always love you.”
“Then that’s all I need to hear.”
Philippe too. Wrapping her in his arms, he held her tight. Heart to heart. He would never let her go.
“Take me home,” she whispered in his ear.
A wonderful request, but he needed to make sure of her answer. “Which home is that?” he asked.
Her face beamed with love. “Wherever you are, my love. Wherever you are.”