by Donna Alward
How could she expect to do all of this while raising a baby on her own?
After a few minutes of sitting in a stupor, Charlotte got up, touched up her makeup, straightened her skirt and rolled her shoulders. Loads of single mums worked and were fine parents, so why shouldn’t she be able to manage? She shook off the fear threatening to still her breath. Charlotte had resources that so many women didn’t, so she’d put on her half-English stiff upper lip and get on with it.
The meeting was only forty minutes in and she was supposed to be there. Maybe no one really appreciated how hard she worked, but she’d show them she could do anything. She’d show them all.
* * *
Jacob sat at his desk in Richmond and rubbed his hand over his face. Spring had been glorious, and now, deep into April, he should be enjoying the sight of burgeoning gardens and the deep green of the grass on Richmond Green. Instead he’d been in a total funk since arriving back from New York.
It had been hell not to pick up the phone and call Charlotte, or send her a text just to see how she was doing. But what would that achieve? They were not a couple. He knew a total break was best, and he’d get over it eventually.
Like you got over Jacinta?
He frowned.
Jacinta died. It’s different.
At least he had nothing to feel guilty about with Charlie. It had been consensual, mutual, and they’d been on exactly the same page about their future.
Keep telling yourself that.
His inner voice just wouldn’t shut up.
He opened up a couple of case files and updated them, then moved on to contracts and potential clients. He had two guys in Asia right now, working on a trade mission, and another team in place providing security for a private event in Manchester. Maybe what he really needed was to deploy himself again. Sitting at a desk gave him way too much time to think. Or there was still the issue of his untaken vacation. Either way, he needed to be active again. See if there were any cases he could take on himself.
His mobile vibrated on top of his desk, jumping across the desktop. He grabbed it and answered. “Wolfe Security.”
“Jacob?”
He nearly dropped the phone. “Charlie?”
There was a breathless laugh. “It’s me.”
And then silence, awkward, fell between them. “How are you?” he finally asked, unsure what else to say. Why was she calling him now? It had been two months since they’d said goodbye at the airport.
“I’m—I’m fine.” She stuttered a little, but then added, “I’m in London.”
Here. She was here.
“For work, I suppose?”
“I was wondering if we could meet for a drink or something.”
There was nothing he wanted more than to see her again. Look into her eyes, see her sharp, witty smile. But if he was dragging his ass around like a lost puppy now, wouldn’t it be worse if he saw her again?
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Oh. Well. I...uh... I’d really like to see you and talk to you about something.”
“You can’t run it past me on the phone?”
“I’d prefer not to.”
He tapped his fingers on the desk. His self-preservation instinct was quickly being taken over by his overactive curiosity. “Did something happen at Aurora?”
“Let’s just meet, okay? I can come to you. You said you have a local pub nearby? Give me the address and I can meet you there, say, around seven?”
She wasn’t going to elaborate. Besides, the temptation to see her was too strong to resist. He gave her the name of the pub and the street it was on and they hung up.
Concentration shot, he got up from his desk and went to the window. The bottom floor of the three-story building served as Wolfe Security offices. There was more than enough square footage for his needs, since he had only three in-house staff and the rest of the employees were generally former military, like him, and on contract. Right now he stared out the window, barely able to make out the park benches on the perimeter of the park. This place was so...civilized. Unlike him. He’d grown up in Lewisham, certainly not a posh life at all. And it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the finer things. He did, in small doses. He knew how to carry himself and never wanted to go back to living paycheck to paycheck, wondering if there’d be enough for a takeaway after bills were paid. On the job, he got to fly to interesting places, eat great food, dress nicely, and all while doing what he was good at. He wasn’t complaining.
But there was an expectation that seemed to go along with that kind of living that he didn’t warm to. For all the rich had it easy, there was a definite push to “keep up” with each other and maintain a certain standard that he wasn’t made for. His bank account might say otherwise, but that wasn’t the kind of man he was, deep inside. He’d told her that back in New York, and nothing had changed.
Which made him even more uneasy about seeing Charlie tonight. What could she possibly want? He wondered if it had something to do with Amelie.
At five, he left his office and went upstairs to the living area of the house. The second floor held a kitchen, living room, study and bathroom. Upstairs were three more bedrooms, two with their own bathrooms. The decor was far more understated than the Pemberton apartment in Manhattan. No big bouquets of flowers or pieces of art. More wood and leather and less light and expensive fabrics. The floors were hardwood, not marble, and old and slightly scarred. This was not in any way a new house. It had been renovated and updated over the decades, but it was solid and didn’t try to cover up its history.
It was a lot for him, but the commute was right, since he only had to go downstairs to work and could avoid the tube or city traffic. And it gave him a home base when he wasn’t traveling. Now and then, his dad came over to hang out with him and eat greasy fish and chips from paper and drink a few pints.
He took a fresh shower and changed into clean jeans and a pullover, since the evenings were still cool. His hair was due for another cut; he’d had one on his return and usually he required a trim every six weeks. He ran his hands through the blond strands and frowned. Why was he worried so much about what he looked like, what she’d think? They were over.
At ten to seven he was at the door of the pub, hand on the handle, hesitating. Charlie didn’t know the depth of his feelings, so all he had to do was keep up the pretense that it had been a special week and a wonderful memory. He just hoped she didn’t pull out the “It would be great if we could be friends” line. He wasn’t sure he had it in him.
So he squared his shoulders and pulled open the door, and scanned the room for a table.
She was already here. His heart stopped briefly as he caught sight of her, off to the left in a corner, her gaze on the door. Damn, but she was pretty, in a soft-looking sweater and her sleek hair tucked behind one ear. And her smile... She was smiling at him, a big, welcoming, I’m-glad-to-see-you smile that hit him right in the gut as he smiled back because truthfully, it was good to see her. More than good. Like all the weight of the last two months lifted off his shoulders somehow. Alarm bells started ringing in his head.
He went to her and she got up, and he kissed her cheek, trying to be welcoming and also platonic and failing miserably because the scent of her turned him into a marshmallow. “Charlie. It’s good to see you.”
Nice, warm, pleasant. But not too much. He congratulated himself, considering the way his pulse was hammering.
“It’s good to see you, too, Jacob.”
“Have you eaten? The food’s good here.”
“I did, yes. But you can order if you’d like.”
He didn’t want to be the only one eating, so he shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll get a pint, though. What can I get you?”
“Just a tonic water, slice of lime.”
He grinned. “No gin?”
“Not to
night.” Her smile was in place but there was something behind it that was intriguing. She wasn’t as comfortable as she tried to appear, and he wondered why. Was his local pub a little too “local” for her tastes? He ordered their drinks and then turned back to her.
“What brings you to the city?”
Charlotte paused, and then looked him in the eyes. “Truthfully, you.”
“Me?” He frowned. “Did something happen with Amelie? Do you need me to give a statement or anything?”
She shook her head. “No, the thing with Amelie’s pretty much resolved. She’s left Paris with Marie for a new start. How they do that doesn’t matter to me, as long as they keep Aurora out of it.”
Their drinks arrived and she poked at the lime wedge with her little straw. “The truth is, Jacob, I came here to tell you something in person that I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
His pulse took on a different drumming now, not one of anticipation but a slow thudding that told him something big was coming. She’d found someone else. She was getting married. Though why she’d have to tell him that in person was beyond him...
“Whatever it is, I promise I’m fine, Charlie. Just tell me.” He lifted his glass for a sip.
“I’m pregnant.”
He nearly spit out the beer; instead he inhaled and started to cough. Had she said...pregnant? He put down his glass and stared at her, his lips dropped open. “You’re...but we...” Realization hit him and he closed his eyes. “Except that first time. Even though we were careful.”
“Yes,” she said softly, so that he barely heard her over the voices and the music in the background. “Except that first time.”
And now she was having his baby.
“You’re sure? You’ve taken a test, seen a doctor?”
She nodded. “Yes, to both questions. I’m two months along now. And Jacob? There was no one else. Not before, and not since.”
He hadn’t even been going to ask her that. “Of course,” he said, letting out a massive breath. “I would never think you’d lie, Charlie. Your conscience would eat you alive.”
She smiled then. “Thank you. For believing me.”
Jacob ran his hand over his face, then took a rather bracing swig of beer. It said a lot about the people she’d been involved with that she’d have to thank him for accepting she was telling the truth. When he put his glass down again, he felt ready to say what he needed to say. “Whatever you want or need from me, you’ve got it.”
She sat back and lifted her highball glass, almost as if she was hiding behind it. What was she going to ask him for? Money? She had plenty of that, though he would gladly support his kid financially. The air strangled in his throat. Marriage? Or the opposite—signing away any parental rights? Any of those options made him feel faint, something that a man in his line of work never felt. He was going to be a father. His head swam with the words. He’d stared down the barrel of a gun more times than he could count. Nothing had weakened him like impending fatherhood.
“I don’t know what I want,” she finally said, looking down at the table. “It took me by surprise a few weeks ago.” She looked up and her gaze touched his and then slid away. “I’m financially set, and my family is wonderful. I can do this on my own if I want to.”
So why did she sound so unsure beneath the bravado?
“I’m sure you can.”
“I’m not after anything. We agreed to two days together, then we said goodbye. No ties. No lingering emotions. Just good memories.”
His fingers tightened around the glass. “This is much bigger than a memory.”
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “Then what do you want? Certainly not to be a father. And I know you’re not interested in a relationship.”
“How do you know that?”
She stilled, stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“How do you know I’m not interested in a relationship?”
“Because of Jacinta.”
She said the name so bluntly that he winced. But since New York he’d had time to think, too much time. There were things he wanted to say that he couldn’t say here, in a busy pub on a weeknight.
“I live two streets over,” he said, then drained the last of his pint. “Why don’t you come over, have something to eat, and we can talk about this.”
“I got a hotel.”
“I’m sure. And I’m not asking you to stay the night, though you’re more than welcome. I have lots of space.” He leaned across the table. “This is an important conversation, Charlie. I’d rather have it in private.”
She nodded, her face paler than he remembered it, and reached for her handbag. He tossed some notes on the table to cover their drinks and a tip and then escorted her outside into the spring air.
She inhaled deeply and let it out. “Oh, the fresh air is nice.”
He glanced at her profile, and the wan tone of her skin. “Have you been sick?” Jacob knew next to nothing about pregnancy and babies, but everyone knew about morning sickness. And that it didn’t just happen in the morning.
She nodded. “A little, not too much. Smells, more than anything, seem to set me off. The food in there was fine. The smell of the beer, though...was a little rough.”
“Sorry.” If he’d known he would have ordered differently.
“No, it’s okay. The tonic was perfect. Fizzy water with lime is my current go-to.”
“I’m just a few blocks. This way.” He started down the pavement and she kept step with him, her flats slapping lightly on the surface.
“No heels?”
“Not tonight.” She’d dressed down in jeans and the sweater and looked very cuddleable. “I’ve been saving them for the office. You’ll also be surprised to hear that I’m off coffee. The smell turns my stomach. I’ve started drinking my sister’s herbal teas.”
“You? Without caffeine?”
That coaxed a smile out of her. “I know. That’s how I knew. I smelled coffee and made a dash for the bathroom.”
His head was still swimming with the fact that she was pregnant and he was going to be a father. He had no business having a kid. He wasn’t the kind to settle down. While the danger was lessened, he still put himself in the line of fire in his job. He and his dad had muddled through as best they could, but he wanted more for his kid. Not just muddling through, but he had no idea how to do that. Especially how to do that when he lived in London and Charlie was in Paris.
Moreover, what did he have to offer that the Pembertons couldn’t provide? Never before had the gap in their lives seemed so large.
Their steps grew slower as they turned onto his street. “Richmond is lovely, isn’t it?” Charlotte said. “Look there, that little house with the cute door and the little garden. It’s like something out of a storybook.”
“I like it here. I started out by renting the ground floor for my business, and then ended up buying the building. It didn’t make sense for me to pay for two places when I could make my home upstairs. It’s a bit bigger than this place, though.”
When they finally stopped in front of his building, her eyes widened. “Oh. It is big. Larger than I expected.”
“The entire business is run from the ground floor. I have three employees plus me on staff, and everyone else works remotely, including my tech team. I live on the top two floors.” He turned to her. “Private security is lucrative, Charlie. I know you’ll say you don’t need it, but I can support my child.”
He unlocked the door and guided her through to the stairs that led to the second floor. As her steps echoed behind him, he had a sudden, jarring thought. She’d said she could do it on her own if she wanted to.
Did that mean she was considering not having the baby?
A war went on within his heart. He’d always supported a woman’s right to choose, and this was certainly unplanned. At the same ti
me, supporting her would come at a personal cost. A lump grew in his throat. He hadn’t planned to be a father, but life didn’t go to plan hardly ever. He would support her either way, even if it hurt.
“Are you all right?”
He’d been standing in front of the upstairs door for several seconds, but hadn’t opened it. He turned the knob and went inside, flicking on a light. “I’m fine. Just got into my head for a moment there.” He turned to face her. “Charlie, I have to ask you. Are you considering terminating this pregnancy?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHARLOTTE STARED AT HIM, stunned by his question. Had she given him that impression? If she had, it wasn’t deliberate. But she was very glad he’d asked her here and not in the pub.
“Can we sit down or something, please?” She’d said she was fine in the pub, but truthfully she hadn’t eaten any dinner and wasn’t feeling super great. Even the tonic water hadn’t settled her stomach. She was hungry, plain and simple.
“Of course.” He led her to a leather sofa and she sank down into the rich cushions. She looked around as he took a seat in the chair next to the sofa. This place suited him, and she liked it quite a bit. Rich wood and leathers, but lots of windows, which she guessed overlooked Richmond Green though she couldn’t tell now, in the deep of twilight. It was masculine but it was also ridiculously cozy. The kind of room where you could curl up with a book and a glass of wine and let the worries of the world fade away.
Maybe, because of his profession, that was just what he needed.
She clasped her hands and looked up at him. He was waiting for her to respond, but not pressuring. She answered him as plainly as possible. “I’m not now. I did consider it as one of my options, but I’ve decided to keep the baby.” His expression was inscrutable. “Would it have been a problem if I had?”
He held her gaze. “I would have supported you either way. But I’m not going to lie. I find myself relieved.”
