But this was a bit frightening.
She’d told him that she took Jules to work almost every day. Jules could move around on his own now, which meant he was all over that old and probably dirty floor. Maybe getting splinters or sewing pins in his soft skin.
City lights twinkled through two double-hung windows. There were no draperies, only old, rolled-up shades of some kind. He could only imagine how cold and drafty the place must be in winter. And Parisian winters were known to be brutal. Maybe not as icy and cold as Indian Lake, but they certainly weren’t balmy.
Rene settled the computer back on the table. The three of them gathered around the screen to say their goodbyes.
Before they signed off, they all asked about Jules and his health.
“He’s fine,” Grace said. “Jasminda, how is your mother doing? I’m so worried about you taking care of her.”
“She misses your hugs. We all do.”
Then she spoke to Etienne about his sister, whose boyfriend had dumped her right before Christmas. Apparently, the girl had been a sobbing wreck and she was only sixteen.
“I know just how she feels,” Grace said. “You tell her that I had my heart stomped on when I was the same age, and it’s a pain she will have learn to live with. I want her to be strong and I—”
Grace stopped herself, as if she’d just remembered that Mica was in the room. While he sat in mute shock, she spun around to look at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”
“It’s all right,” he said.
She lowered her head and turned around.
“Who’s with you?” Rene asked.
“Mica. Jules’s father.”
“Is he?” Rene’s face filled the screen. “I’d like to talk to him.”
“Not now, Rene. Some other time,” Grace replied firmly.
Rene tried to shove Etienne aside, but Etienne was having none of it.
“Grace, chérie,” Etienne said. “I need you to concentrate on those sketches I emailed you this morning. I want to match the first one with that faux fur I found from the distributor in Singapore. Bien?”
“Oui,” she replied. “I’m signing off now. I’ll be back soon and we’ll get this all together.”
“We have to, Grace,” Rene said. “We have so much riding—”
“I know, Rene. I know. Bonne nuit.”
“Bonne nuit,” they said simultaneously, and the computer screen went black.
Grace sat in the chair for a moment and then got up. She was smiling. “It went better than I’d thought. They’re all so marvelous.”
Mica inhaled deeply, suddenly aware he’d barely taken a breath in the past few minutes. He was guilty of assuming all kinds of things about Grace and none of them had been accurate.
He’d misjudged her, underappreciated her talent as a designer, her management skills, even her openheartedness toward others.
This view into Grace’s Paris life had opened his eyes. She was passionate about her work in a way that he was only beginning to feel with his inventions. No wonder she refused to marry him. He was asking too much of her. She could no more leave her life in Paris than he could wish his left arm alive. If he demanded she move to Indian Lake, Grace would slowly become diminished. Her passion would die and she would blame him for it. In the beginning of his parents’ life together, before their children were born, their commitment for each other was underscored by their passion to build the farm. They had a love for the land so deep in their souls that they were willing to sacrifice for it and for the family they wanted.
Mica’s life was already much different because of Jules. He had a family. It would be easy for Mica to sacrifice for Jules, but Grace would have to abandon everything else that made her own life worth living.
Guilt and insecurity enveloped him. Did he have the right to ask so much of her? Grace had told him she wouldn’t marry him. She’d told him she wanted to be with a man who loved her. But even if they did fall in love, he saw now, it wouldn’t last. He could never give her what she wanted or needed. His life was here. Hers was in Paris. For a long time, Mica had thought Grace had an easy life. Now he realized she had worked incredibly hard for the successes she’d gained.
Yes, he’d been the one who’d broken her heart when she was a teenager. She’d told Etienne that she’d never gotten over the pain. Maybe that was why she refused to marry him. She knew better than to put her heart in harm’s way again.
His list of apologies was getting longer by the minute. He only had one choice. And he should take it.
He rose slowly, setting Jules carefully on the sofa.
“Grace. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she asked, walking toward him.
“For hurting you back then—when we were kids. I didn’t know and I should have.” He touched her cheek, wondering if this was the same cheek she’d used to feel the fabrics all those years ago. Her first step toward her dream. “I never meant to hurt you last autumn, either. I was in so much pain. So much distress. And very confused. You were like oxygen to me. When I was with you, I thought maybe I just might live again. You gave me that, and I thank you.”
Her eyes fell and when she lifted them back to him, they were filled with tears. She put her hand over his.
“And now, Mica?”
“And now...”
Not a word came to his head as he lowered his mouth to hers.
The feel of Grace’s lips on his was almost more than he could stand. And when she put her arms around his neck, he thought he’d taken his last breath. His heart slammed against his chest and she’d have to be numb not to feel it. He slid his hand from her cheek and down to her waist. Then he pulled her closer. He pressed his hand against the small of her back and the force of her heart beating against his chest, nearly in rhythm with his, brought back every memory of those October nights over a year ago.
“Grace,” he breathed.
She kissed him back with that same sweet surrender he’d found dear and oh, so necessary. He could go on forever.
But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
She was leaving. Going back to Paris. Back to another life. Maybe even another man.
It was Mica who broke the kiss. He knew he had to for self-preservation. Kissing Grace would get him into more trouble than he’d bargained for and he didn’t need distractions. Not now.
“Grace. Marry me,” he said in a rush, hoping he hadn’t sounded too pleading.
Her eyes held hope, longing. He knew his kiss had softened her. But was it enough?
“No.”
“Grace. You know it’s the right thing to do.”
“For us?”
“For Jules,” he replied honestly.
“That’s what I thought you meant,” she said and pushed away from him. “I already told you I can’t.” He didn’t miss the bitter disappointment in her voice.
Mica didn’t press. In too many ways, she was right. He needed to stay focused on his invention and on making himself into the kind of man she would never want to leave.
He had a lot of work ahead of him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MICA HAD BLINDSIDED Grace with his apology. She hadn’t expected his emotional delivery, and like an impetuous fool, Grace had walked into Mica’s kiss with abandon. She’d wanted him to kiss her, but she shouldn’t have. Locked in his embrace, she’d hoped for a slice of a moment that maybe he would feel the same things for her as she did for him.
She didn’t want to crave another kiss, but she did. In that moment when their lips touched...she could swear he felt something for her. Maybe it wasn’t love. But it was close.
The fact that he broke away from her so quickly, as if he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, jolted her back to reality. This was Mica. Married to his
father’s land. And that was the crux of it. Mica’s roots went deep into the soil of Indian Lake. His family’s arms would always hold him. She’d loved him for so long, wanted his love in return so long, that she’d never thought about what would happen if she ever heard him tell her that he loved her back.
Her life was in Paris. She’d built a career there, and she was responsible to all those who worked with her. She had dreams of her own she would never abandon.
Though their lives were an ocean apart, she never wanted this moment with him to end.
“I should go,” he said. “I have to run an errand for my mother.”
“No, you don’t,” Grace countered.
“How do you know?” He stepped back, dropping his arm and giving her a steely look.
“Because your mother just got married. I’ll bet that kitchen is overflowing with leftovers. She doesn’t need anything.”
“The hardware store is open today. The kitchen drain is clogged and...” He fumbled with his words.
She glared at him. “I’m not buying it. But if it’s me, just say so.”
He shoved his right hand in his jeans pocket and slumped, staring at the floor for a moment.
Gathering courage?
“Okay, I confess. I liked kissing you—too much.”
Oh. So that’s it. She smiled, feeling vastly encouraged. “And that’s a problem because...?”
He let out a frustrated breath. “Grace. We have about a hundred unresolved issues and instead of hashing them out, I kiss you and I lose my focus.”
“I should think that would help clarify things for you.”
“Apparently not.” He glanced over at the sofa and gasped.
Grace spun around. “Jules!” she yelled and raced toward her baby.
Jules was wide-awake and sitting up. He had ripped the head off his toy dinosaur, and he was shoving the stuffing into his mouth.
Grace scooped Jules off the sofa, stuck her fingers in his mouth and retrieved the polyester. Mica was just as quick and yanked the headless T. rex from Jules’s hand.
The minute the stuffing was out of his mouth, Jules let out a wail. Grace placed him over her shoulder and tried soothing him.
“It’s okay now, sweetie. You scared Mommy. That’s all.”
“And Daddy,” Mica said, stroking his back.
Grace swept her hand over Mica’s and his thumb locked around her thumb. He moved closer to her and kissed the top of Jules’s head. His eyes skimmed Jules’s red face and as the love in Mica’s gaze grew, she tuned out her baby’s cries. All she heard now were the soothing words Mica showered on their son.
She felt his warm breath as he spoke. She felt as if she was inside a protective bubble, where only love and caring existed.
Though Mica clearly still held resentment toward Grace, any negative thoughts he might have had about the baby himself had been dispelled.
She’d always believed it, but for the first time, she could see that Mica would be a good father. Though he’d professed to prefer machines to people, he’d underestimated himself. With his son, he was caring and giving.
Mica’s caresses and gentle words had quieted Jules, who lifted his head from Grace’s shoulder and turned a tear-streaked face to them both.
“Oh, it breaks my heart to see him cry,” she said, wiping Jules’s tears with her fingertips.
“Here,” Mica said, taking a handkerchief from his back pocket.
“Thanks.” She wiped Jules’s face and swept the handkerchief under his runny nose.
Jules smiled at her, turned in her arms and said, “Da.” He put his little arms out to Mica.
Grace watched as Mica’s face filled with a smile that she could only describe as coming from his heart. Her throat thickened with emotion and her eyes stung. “Here. He needs you.”
“Come here, buddy.” Mica scooped Jules up. Again, Jules clasped both hands around Mica’s neck and leaped to his chest.
Grace cocked her head. “You know, it’s like he knows you can only use one arm.”
Mica’s face lost its glow. “It’s that obvious, even to a baby?”
Grace cringed. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, Mica. I—”
“It’s okay.” Mica gave her a half smile. “I noticed that, too.” He looked at Jules, who had already scrambled over to Mica’s left shoulder. “See? I wonder if he knows anything that we’re talking about, or if he just thinks I’m his jungle gym. Anyway, I think babies are a lot smarter than we give them credit for. I think they know all kinds of things.”
“So do I, Mica,” she said, touching Jules’s cheek. “My mother used to say that babies were still connected to heaven. She believed they were smarter than any adult. They just can’t talk, is all.”
“Na. Na,” Jules said. The baby started wiggling around as if he was about to jump across Mica’s chest again.
Grace’s eyes widened. “It’s almost like he’s been trying to form words since we got here.”
“Maybe we should be tutoring him or something.”
“I’ll let you do that,” she said, suddenly uneasy. Tutoring. Lessons. Classes. Schooling. It all cost money. Money she didn’t have and wouldn’t have if she didn’t spend her time wisely. She had a mountain of work to do for Etienne and the team. It would be great if Mica could take care of Jules for the rest of the day so she could spend her afternoon at the computer.
Mica placed his forehead to Jules’s. “Say ‘Mommy.’”
“Da.” Jules giggled.
“Try ‘Mama.’”
Then Mica leaned over and kissed Grace’s cheek. “Mama,” he repeated.
“Ma.”
Grace knew Jules was just imitating sounds, but her knees went buttery and her heart expanded. Her days with Mica were numbered, and she would carry these moments with her for the rest of her life.
“See?” Mica said. “He’s a quick study. I’d say he’s going to be smarter than all my brothers put together. That Barzonni blood is the best.” He chuckled, making Jules giggle along with him.
Grace felt an icy prickle scurry across her skin. In the next breath, Mica would be back to talking marriage. Without the first hint that he loved her.
Because he doesn’t.
Frankly, she’d been surprised he’d gone two whole days without pushing the issue.
She had to give him points for coming to her rescue today. She’d been on Skype for over an hour going over all their designs. Of the thirty items her team had presented, she was only truly happy with five or six. She knew exactly what was wrong.
Fabrics.
Jasminda’s talent was in evening and cocktail ensembles. When it came to sportswear and daywear, she was out of her element. Etienne was a good organizer and his eye for detail and accessories was unmatched, but he was a follower.
Rene was the one whose creativity most closely matched hers. Rene’s forte was menswear; a soaring market across the globe, especially in western Europe and the United States. Grace needed Rene and Rene needed Grace’s eye for color, fabric and design.
Rene was charming and brilliant, and he had been protective and caring toward her all through her pregnancy. They worked well together, and Grace had a feeling he would jump at the first sign of romantic interest from her. But so far, he’d left the ball in her court, honoring her dedication to her career and to Jules. She had sometimes wondered, if it wasn’t for Mica, whether she could have a future with Rene.
But there was Mica. She wouldn’t be who she was today without having known him. She’d had a flame for him since high school. And he was the father of her child.
As Grace watched Mica trying to teach Jules another word, which wasn’t happening, she wondered if she’d ever be able to give up the Mica dream. Once she was back in Paris she would have to face the fact tha
t Mica—at least the Mica of her dreams—was part of her past. They’d have to figure out a way to co-parent Jules, but she had a lot of life in front of her. Once she made it to the next step in her career, she just might decide to look around for a relationship.
Or not.
Up to this point, Grace had enjoyed being single. Determined to excel, she’d gotten satisfaction from her work. Jules had added a whole new dimension of love and fulfillment to her life. But after months of juggling both, something had to give. In some ways, Mica had a point about marriage: having a partner was practical. But Grace had always been happy enough on her own. If she was going to get married, it had to be for love. Nothing less.
Mica turned to her with a sour look on his face. “I think I need to try my skills at changing him again.”
“Oh! Gotcha.”
“Where are the diapers?”
“In the bedroom. I’ll show you.”
“It’s okay. I can manage. I know you said you had a lot of work to do. I’ll change him and then I’ll fix that bottle you mentioned.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh.”
Jules grinned over Mica’s shoulder as they walked away.
She waved to Jules.
“Ma. Ma.”
Grace felt her heart squeeze and release. As they disappeared into the bedroom, she ran her fingers through her hair. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to let go of Mica. If anything, she was more in love with him now than she’d been last autumn. The revelation should have brought joy, but all she felt was an aching loneliness as she faced a future without him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHILE MICA FED Jules his bottle, Grace went to the enormous floor-to-ceiling window in the living room and looked out at the snowstorm. In the matter of a few hours every tree limb, rooftop and street had been covered in a foot of snow. Garbage cans looked like dwarfs lined up along the curb. It was difficult to distinguish the sidewalk from lawns and driveways. The church across the street looked like a castle out of a winter fairy tale.
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