JENNA’S JAW DROPPED. Marry him? That was the next suggestion? Mr. Marriage and Family Require Too Much of a Commitment?
“Don’t dismiss the idea out of hand,” he said, gripping her hand tighter. “If you are my wife, the child carries my name.”
“So would I,” she pointed out. Surely the attorney had noted that she came with the deal.
“Only for a short while. We need only stay married long enough for the baby to be born. Then we can dissolve our agreement.”
“Not dissolve, divorce,” she corrected. Semantics, maybe, but the word mattered. Marriage wasn’t the same as an agreement to grow flowers.
“Very well, we will divorce once the baby is born.”
Jenna took a deep breath. “Tell your lawyer I’ll sign any kind of stipulation he wants,” she said.
Philippe frowned. In his confusion, Jenna pulled her hand free but kept it under the table. She didn’t want him to see how much she was trembling. How could he make such a suggestion? Was he not listening when she talked about her parents?
“I do not understand,” he said. “I am offering...”
“To do the right thing. Yes, I know.” That added to the suggestion’s sting. Philippe believed he was doing the right thing.
“My father did the right thing, too. So did my grandfather. And, while I appreciate your dedication to family traditions, I’d prefer not to repeat mine.” Mentally, she gave herself a pat on the back for speaking calmly.
He shook his head. “But this would be different,” he said.
“How? I’m pregnant, you’re suggesting marriage.” Where was there a difference? “Seems the same to me.”
“Except that both of us would be entering the marriage with the same expectations.”
In other words, their marriage would be different because there was no expectation of it being real. Jenna had to give him credit. He was honest.
What surprised her was to hear him press the issue. Was it an ego thing—shock that someone would say no—or was it because he wanted the baby born in wedlock? Either way, there was one very key ingredient missing. No way she was marrying anyone who didn’t love her. She, and her baby, deserved better.
“Doesn’t matter. The answer is still no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Have your lawyer draw up whatever papers he wants.” She looked to her glass, not wanting to see the relief that was no doubt in his eyes.
Or for him to see the disappointment that was in hers.
That could have gone better. Philippe ordered a brandy before settling into the shadows of a leather bench seat. Jenna and he had said their goodbyes a few minutes earlier. A very polite hug outside the front doors, barely long enough for him to register the lines of her body, before she slipped into her waiting car. As soon as her taillights disappeared into the night, he’d headed for the hotel bar.
Fortunately, the place was deserted except for the bartender, who was more interested in the American football game on the television set. His disinterest allowed Philippe the privacy to recount the night’s events.
Had he thought honestly Jenna would consider his proposal? He knew her story—part of it, at least. But their situation was different, was it not? Besides, he wasn’t offering permanence; she could leave whenever she wanted.
But apparently she preferred to sign a legal document instead. Fine. He should be relieved the situation would be resolved so civilly. He’d dodged a bullet, as it were. There were plenty of women in his past that wouldn’t have been so understanding.
“You lost your friend.”
It was the waitress from the restaurant. She set his brandy on the table before angling her head toward the bartender. “He’s more interested in seeing if New England scores on this drive, so I volunteered to bring your order. I’m surprised to see you alone.”
“She had to go to work,” Philippe replied.
“Too bad. Would you like some company?”
He studied the woman over his drink. She was quite lovely, and from the gleam in her eye, she was the kind of woman who wasn’t looking for anything beyond a good night. Just his type.
The image of cinnamon curls splayed across his pillow popped into his head.
“Perhaps another time. I have a lot on my mind tonight,” he told the waitress.
The waitress shrugged, disappointed, but not too. “Signal if you need anything.”
She swayed back to the bar, leaving Philippe alone to sip his drink.
And wonder why he hadn’t accepted a woman’s invitation since Jenna left France.
Jenna had just enough time to change into her uniform and report for her shift. When she stepped off the elevator, Shirley was waiting for her at the nurses’ station.
“We’ve got five minutes,” her friend said. “How’d it go?”
“Dinner? Fine. I had the chicken amandine. We toasted the baby’s good health. Oh, and he proposed.”
“He what?”
“Keep your voice down!” Jenna whispered harshly. “I don’t need the whole floor knowing.” She looked out on to the floor to see if anyone was listening, but their colleagues had their heads hunched over the computers, updating patient information. “He suggested that we get married.”
Once she finished explaining the whole story, her friend sank into a nearby chair. “Wow, he doesn’t mess around, does he? From the way you described him, I never would have pegged him for the traditional type. Did you...?”
“He only proposed out of obligation.”
“You sound disappointed,” Shirley said.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Why would she be disappointed? Wasn’t as though she was in love with Philippe d’Usay. What they shared in France—the connection, the intimacy—were emotions of the moment. Trying to extend them was a pipe dream. She wasn’t about to compound reckless behavior with more reckless behavior.
“I have absolutely zero interest in marrying Philippe. Why would I want to be my mother?”
“Trapped in a never-ending codependent relationship with a narcissist?” Shirley asked.
“I meant tying myself to someone who doesn’t love me.”
“Only in this case the tie would be temporary and you don’t love him. Right?” Shirley held up a hand. “Relax, I’m yanking your chain. You totally made the right call.”
“Thank you.”
A glance at the clock said the shift was about to start. Jenna headed into the tiny room behind the nurses’ station to lock up her pocketbook. As she shoved it into one of the lockers that lined the back wall, she heard her phone start to buzz. Whoever it was would have to wait. Patients came first.
“I hate to start the shift on a down note,” said Donna, one of the nurses on the eleven-to-seven shift, “but Mr. Mylanski isn’t doing so good.” She relayed the older man’s vitals. “You might want to call his family and give them the heads-up.”
The news cast a pall on the atmosphere. Shirley swore. “I thought he’d have a little longer. Poor guy. I’ll call his daughter.”
“And, on the opposite end of the spectrum,” their colleague continued, “Lola has been restless all night.” Lola being one of their patients with dementia. “She keeps sneaking out of her room and climbing into other patients’ beds.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Jenna volunteered. Chasing after Lola would keep her too busy to think about Philippe. At least for a few hours.
Eight long hours later, an exhausted Jenna stepped out into the early-morning sunshine. “I don’t know about you, but I could use breakfast,” she said to Shirley. “I forgot my sweet cheese croissant and baby’s annoyed. Wanna join me? My treat.” Mr. Mylanski had passed an hour before, and she figured her friend could use the distraction.
Shirley shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m going to go home and take a hot bath.”
“You sure?” Wasn’t like Shirley to give up free food. The phone in Jenna’s bag was buzzing again. She wasn’t in the mood to take the call now anymore than she was any of the other times during her shift. “Did you miss the part where I said my treat?”
“Positive,” Shirley replied. “Besides, I think you already have plans.” She nodded to the parking lot, where Philippe was walking their way.
“What’s he doing here?” Jenna asked.
“Beats me. You’ll have to ask him,” Shirley replied.
He’d gone casual, in jeans and a black sweater that emphasized his shoulders and muscular arms. When he saw Jenna he smiled.
Jenna’s stomach swooped, and it wasn’t morning sickness.
“Bonjour, ladies,” he greeted. “The time difference had me up early, so I thought I would bring you breakfast.” In his hand he carried a tray of cups and a white paper sack. He handed one of the cups to Shirley. “This is for you. I am afraid I don’t know how you prefer it.”
“Free works,” Shirley replied, “but if you have sugar, I won’t say no.”
“Sugar packets are in the bag, along with one of those sweet cheese pastries you said helped with the morning sickness.” He looked back and forth between her and Jenna. Shirley had dark circles from the night’s stress; Jenna guessed she looked the same. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“We lost a patient last night,” Jenna explained.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. He was a sweet old man,” Shirley said. “I’ll miss him.”
“At least his family made it in time to say goodbye,” Jenna said.
“Yes, that is good. No one should die alone.” Philippe frowned, leaving her to wonder if he was referring to more than Mr. Mylanski.
“Is this a bad time?” he asked.
“Not for me,” Shirley replied. “I’ve got a date with a hot tub.”
“Jenna?”
Jenna eyed the white paper sack he held. Baby really needed to eat. She couldn’t believe he’d remembered she said the baby craved sweet cheese croissants.
“There’s a park a short way from the coffee shop we visited yesterday. If you don’t mind eating on a bench, we can go there. This hour of the day we’ll have privacy.”
“A park bench is fine. Lead the way.”
Jenna waited until they’d walked a few paces before accepting the drink. Warm water with honey and lemon. Same order as the day before. She tried not to be touched that he remembered.
“I didn’t think I’d see you today,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because...” Because they’d said everything they had to say last night. With his business complete, what reason would he have to stay? “Is this about the paperwork you wanted me to sign?”
“Xavier is fast, but not that fast,” he replied.
“Then...?”
“Perhaps I wanted to enjoy your company. We are having a child together. Shouldn’t we be friendly? What is that buzzing sound?”
Jenna sighed. “It’s my phone.” The vibration could be heard coming from her pocketbook.
“Do you need to answer?”
“Definitely not.” It was way too early for drama, just like last night had been too late. “They’ll leave a message.” Or call back again, more likely. “I’m not talking to anyone until I’ve had my pastry.”
“Present company excluded, I hope.”
“Only because you brought the pastry,” she replied. “Although there’s no guarantee I won’t be too busy soothing my stomach to talk with you, either.”
Because of the hour, the park was empty except for a lone dog walker. In the center, there was a bench overlooking the walking paths. Using his handkerchief, Philippe wiped away the moisture and fallen leaves and they took a seat.
The moment was surprisingly peaceful. After a long, crazy night, it was pleasant to simply sit and listen to the sounds of the birds waking in the bushes. Philippe had stretched his arm along the back of the bench, a warm, protective barrier against Jenna’s shoulders.
“Reminds me of the morning we had breakfast at Marguerite’s,” he remarked.
“Except the weather was warmer and we were on a busy street corner surrounded by people instead of sitting under an oak tree,” Jenna said once she’d washed down the last of her croissant. “Other than that, though.”
“Completely the same.”
They both chuckled. Jenna knew exactly what Philippe meant.
That morning had felt peaceful, too. The silence between them easy.
He nodded and sipped his coffee. “I’m sorry about your patient.”
“Thanks. He’d only been with us a couple months, but we all liked him. I feel bad for his family. No one likes losing a loved one.”
“No, they do not.”
Jenna winced. Fatigue was making her insensitive. She touched his knee in apology, earning a slight smile in return.
“You said his family was there, correct? He did not die alone?”
He wouldn’t have died alone regardless—Shirley would have made a point of sitting with him—but something in the way Philippe was double-checking about Mr. Mylanski’s family said the point mattered to him.
“All but one son,” she told him. “He lives in Boston and couldn’t get across until this morning.”
“Too late,” he murmured. “He must feel terrible.”
He looked out over the grass, his profile as open as Jenna had ever seen, excepting that afternoon in his apartment. “I wasn’t with either of my parents when they died. No one told me until after the fact. With Felix... I tried, but I couldn’t get there in time. I was in Italy, and by the time I saw the hospital had called and arranged a flight... He died all alone.”
In that moment, his comments from before made sense. Mr. Mylanski’s death must have triggered his guilt. Armchair analysis wasn’t what he needed right now, though. She sat back and waited for him to continue.
“I thought I had more time. I wanted to make this one last deal before... So he’d know he was leaving the business in good hands. If I had known the end was close, I would have...”
“Canceled your trip?” she asked. “Do you think that’s what your brother would have wanted? For you to let the business languish while you sat vigil twenty-four-seven?”
Tucking a leg beneath her, she turned to face him, her hand squeezing his knee. “You were doing what your brother wanted you to do—you were taking care of the business.”
“How do you know what he wanted?” he asked.
Oh, why did his eyes have to be so sad? “I don’t know for certain,” she told him. “But you told me your brother loved the business.”
“More than loved. He was born to run D’Usay International.”
“And did he want you to be as dedicated to the company as he was?” Philippe nodded. “Then he would have wanted you to be spending your time making the business grow...”
She cupped his cheek and looked him straight in the eye as she told him the same words she’d told others over her career. Only this time, they felt far more important. “You tried your best, Philippe. That’s all you could do. Your brother knows that.”
“Merci,” he whispered, eyes shining. He leaned briefly into her touch before kissing her palm and backing away. “Listen to me. You lost a patient and I’m making the moment about myself.”
“Don’t apologize. I like when you open up.” Knowing he trusted her enough to reveal even the slightest vulnerability touched her more than any compliment. “You don’t have to be charming and witty all the time.”
“But I am so good at being charming and witty.” His eyes sparkled for a moment before returning to the dark violet they were before. “You make it easy,” he said. “To share the thoughts in my head. I don’t know why, but you do.”
“Not at first,” Jenna reminded him. “Remember I had to push?”
“And now look at me. You’ve created a morbid monster.”
“Morbid? Maybe. Monster? Far from it.”
His eyes locked with hers. Piece by piece, the noise around them died away until all Jenna could hear was the pulse fluttering in her throat. She wasn’t even sure she was breathing.
“Thank you for listening.” Philippe was whispering. Was he afraid to break the silence, too?
“Anytime,” she whispered back.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Jenna’s gaze hitched. She knew that look. She felt her body start to lean toward his, the way metal moved toward a magnet.
“I want to see you tonight,” he whispered. “Will you have dinner with me?”
“I don’t know.” When he looked at her like that, she had trouble thinking clearly. Was this entire conversation to break down her defenses and revisit what they shared in Provence, or was he attempting to be friendly with the mother of his child? She was too confused to know.
“I’ve never been to Nantucket,” he was saying. “I’d like to see your island.”
Her island. He knew the right phrases to melt her resistance. Pulling her eyes away she studied the dents in her drink lid, hoping the answers lay in the white plastic.
“All right.” The answer came out automatically. “I’ll show you around Nantucket. You might as well know about where your child is going to grow up.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Philippe shooting her a look. Apparently he hadn’t considered the baby would live on Nantucket.
“But first, I need to go to bed. To sleep,” she quickly added. “We can take your tour later this afternoon.”
“Very good. I will call you to work out a time.” His expression brightened, and Jenna immediately felt her insides take a tumble. Damn if he couldn’t obliterate her resolve with a single smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Heaven help her, so was she.