“Don’t be sorry,” his mother said firmly. “I actually owe Gerald Robinson a debt of gratitude because you were the result of my brief affair. You made everything worth it, Keaton.”
“But he broke your heart,” Keaton insisted. “He broke...you.”
“No, sweetie,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “He changed me and forced me to grow up sooner than I might have otherwise. In some ways, it made me stronger. Being your mother made me the person I am today.”
Keaton sighed. Was this his mother protecting him in the gentle way she always had? He hated to push her, especially when he knew how difficult it must be for her to speak of that time. But he had to know the truth. His future with Francesca depended on it.
“You never dated. You never found love again. It kills me to know you’ve spent your life alone because of me and Gerald Robinson.”
His mother laughed softly. “Keaton Alistair Whitfield, do you think you are privy to every nuance of my life? That a mother would confide the secrets of her dating life to her young son?”
“There were no secrets.” He choked a little on the final word. “You had no dating life, Mum. I would have...known.”
“It was my job to love and protect you.” His mother’s tone was mildly chiding. “You have always been the heart of my life, Keaton, but not the whole of it.”
He felt his mouth drop open. “Do you mean—”
“I dated,” Anita told him. “Nothing serious while you were a lad. Between taking care of you and my jobs, where would I have found the time or energy for—”
“Point taken,” he interrupted quickly. God and the Queen save him from having a conversation with his mother about her sex life.
She chuckled again. “There were men. Mother was my most important role but I never stopped being a woman. And now...”
Keaton gulped. “Now?”
“I’ve met someone lovely,” his mother said, her voice taking on a girlish tone that was totally unfamiliar. “His name is Bertram Morgan. He lives around the corner and we take the same bus in the morning. His wife died a few years ago and his children have their own lives, like you do. We’ve been dating a few months so it was too new for me to mention to you.” She paused then added, “But I’m in love, Keaton. After all these years, I’ve found my true love.”
“Bloody hell,” Keaton muttered.
“Language,” his mother scolded. “I certainly hope that isn’t the sum total of your reaction.”
“Of course not. I’m happy for you, Mum,” he said quickly. “You deserve...everything. This chap had better know how lucky he is to have you. If ever he—”
“He knows.”
Right. Keaton was utterly astounded at this new twist in his reality. He’d always carried with him the heavy weight of knowing that his very existence had ruined his mother’s chance for a happy life. To realize that she hadn’t let Gerald Robinson’s betrayal define her in the way it had Keaton made the foundation of his world shift again under his feet.
“I’m still your mother,” Anita continued. “I want you to be happy, too. Love is a magical thing when you find the right person, Keaton. I have a feeling you are already well aware of that. From the moment you started talking about your Texas waitress, I knew she was special.”
“You can’t possibly understand how special,” Keaton murmured. “Francesca is the most amazing woman, Mum. And I’ve been an unmitigated arse.”
“Keaton, no. I don’t believe it. Women gravitate to you and they always have.”
“I’ve never cared about any other woman like I do Francesca. I hurt her deeply. Have you ever heard of love making someone stupid?”
“All the time,” his mother assured him. “The important question is how are you going to fix it?”
“I don’t know if she’ll trust me again.”
“But you must try,” Anita insisted. “You deserve to be happy.”
He wasn’t sure if he agreed but he knew he’d fight like hell to get another chance to be the kind of man Francesca deserved.
“A grand gesture,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Sophie told me I need a grand gesture to show Francesca that I’ve changed. To win her back.”
“Whatever it takes,” his mother told him. “You’re smart and creative. I’m sure you can come up with something special. But I’m guessing Francesca fell in love with your beautiful heart, my dear boy. The one you guard like the crown jewels in the Tower of London. Show her your heart, Keaton.”
“Thanks, Mum,” he said and they disconnected. The prospect of a grand gesture actually seemed less daunting than opening his heart. There was so much risk of having it broken.
He took comfort in knowing that his mother had not only survived her broken heart, as he’d assumed, but had become brave enough to give it to a good man.
Francesca had been brave in professing her love, and he’d hurt her by spurning her declaration. He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. He had such an enormous mistake to fix.
He stood and paced to the windows that looked out to the front of the building. An older couple was crossing the street and he watched as the man placed his hand on the small of the woman’s back, guiding her off the curb with the unconscious tenderness that came from sharing decades of living with the same person. It wasn’t a phenomenon Keaton had witnessed in his life, but he craved it nonetheless.
And there was only one woman he wanted at his side.
* * *
“Your shift was over an hour ago.” Lola May gave Francesca’s hip a gentle nudge. “Go home, honey.”
Francesca moved to grab two plates from the pass through to the kitchen then slid them in front of the customers sitting at the diner’s long counter. Ernie and Frank were regulars and had lunch together at the diner at least four days a week. Both in their late sixties, Ernie was divorced and Frank had never married. In many ways, they were like the Odd Couple, and she knew Lola May’s had become a mainstay in their lives.
She ignored the dull ache in her gut at the thought that she could end up with Ciara and the diner as her only two constants and plastered a bright smile on her face. “Enjoy, fellas. Ernie, I’ll grab your side of ranch for the fries.”
The older man’s craggy face split with a huge grin. “That’s why I love you, Frannie. You know what I want before I even ask for it.”
At least someone found her lovable, Francesca mused as she opened the glass-fronted refrigerator where the condiments were stored. She could feel the weight of Lola May’s gaze but did her best to avoid eye contact with her boss.
Since her breakup with Keaton last week, Francesca had been spending whatever free time she had at the diner. Even when Lola May’s wasn’t bustling with activity, there was always something to keep her busy. At the moment, they had enough filled ketchup bottles and stuffed napkin holders to make it through a zombie apocalypse. Anything was better than being alone. Ciara included her as much as she could, but Francesca couldn’t keep up with her roommate’s boisterous friends.
She placed the small plastic cup of ranch dressing on the counter, re-filled the ice tea for both men and then checked in with the other customers seated at the counter.
Turning to grab the pitcher of water on the back counter, she yelped a little when Lola May stepped into her space.
“Look at me, Francesca.”
Francesca bit her lip but eventually raised her gaze.
“You don’t want to stay here all day.”
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go upstairs to an empty apartment. Ciara is out with friends.”
“Why don’t you meet up with them?”
“I’m terrible company,” Francesca answered. “Ciara has been inviting me to everything she does but I know it’s a total
downer for her friends. I don’t have any big projects or exams on the horizon for school, so all I do is sit around and mope about Keaton. It’s pathetic.”
Lola May placed her hands on either of Francesca’s shoulders. “You are not pathetic—not by a long shot. You should call him back and see what he has to say.”
Francesca shook her head. “What could he say that would make a difference? I love a man who doesn’t love me back—story of my life. It would only hurt worse to hear his voice. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—”
“Holy crap, it’s James Bond.”
Ernie’s gruff voice boomed through the diner and the whole place went silent.
Francesca gasped as her gaze darted to the front entrance and landed on Keaton, who stood in the doorway wearing a tuxedo that definitely looked worthy of 007 himself. Keaton was handsome as sin wearing a normal suit—or wearing nothing at all for that matter. But the combination of the tailored white shirt, fitted jacket and black bow tie made her mouth go dry even as her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her rib cage.
He met her gaze, his blue eyes so darkly intense to look almost otherworldly. He didn’t speak, but with a slight nod he began to walk—or more accurately prowl—toward her.
“Takes my breath away,” Lola May muttered and moved to the far side of the counter.
Francesca had a fairly good idea of what an injured gazelle felt like when faced with a hungry lion. Keaton’s gaze, an equal mix of sexy and intimidating, never wavered from hers.
The effect was so overwhelming that she forgot her broken heart, her anger at how he’d treated her and practically her own name.
Then she realized she was holding her breath and gasped in a gulp of air just as he came toe-to-toe with her.
“Hullo, Francesca,” he said softly.
Her name on his lips in that posh British accent had her knees threatening to give way. She managed a small nod and asked, “Do you have a date with the Queen?”
One side of his mouth quirked. “Only with the queen of my heart.”
Francesca clasped a hand over her mouth as a giggle bubbled up in her throat.
“Too corny?” he asked.
She shook her head but actual speech seemed beyond her at the moment.
“It’s perfect, darlin’,” Lola May drawled from behind her. “Keep going.”
Color burned on Francesca’s cheeks as it dawned on her that the entire restaurant was focused on the scene playing out between Keaton and her. “Should we,” she asked, clearing her throat, “go someplace more private to speak?”
“No, Francesca. I don’t care who hears me. In fact...” His gaze swept the diner before settling back on her. “I want everyone to know how much I love you.”
With a gasp, she took a step away from him. “Keaton,” she whispered, “you don’t have to say that.”
“I do.” He moved close again, crowding her space. She could feel the heat of his body, breathe in the scent of cologne that never failed to send butterflies dancing across her middle. “There are no words to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you, luv. But you must know that it was only me being a bloody fool.”
As much as she wanted to believe him, her own doubts tumbled through her mind and heart. “I don’t know that.” She’d replayed his words a thousand times over in her head. “You seemed so sure and—”
“What I’m sure about,” he said, cupping her cheeks between his palms, “is that you are the best damned thing that’s ever happened to me.”
There was a collective sigh from the diner’s staff and customers, but Francesca couldn’t take her eyes off Keaton. A sliver of hope glimmered in her heart, like the first ray of sun glinting through the clouds after a Texas rainstorm.
“I never imagined feeling about anyone the way I feel for you, sweetheart. Each morning when I wake up, you are the first thought I have, and at night, your laughter is the lullaby that sends me to sleep. Everything about you—the very essence of who you are—fascinates me. I could spend my whole life loving you and it still wouldn’t be enough time to make you understand all the ways I adore you.”
Francesca’s heart stumbled in her chest. “Your whole life?”
“If you’ll give me another chance.” His thumbs were infinitely tender as they stroked back and forth across her cheeks. “Please, Francesca, give me the chance to prove that I can be the man to deserve your love.”
“Yes,” she whispered and the whole restaurant erupted with cheers and whistles.
Keaton kissed her with the kind of passion that turned her body to a quivering mass of desire. Then he was scooping her up and carrying her toward the door. She felt safe and right in the cradle of his arms, and she nuzzled her nose into the crook of his throat and breathed him in. Was it possible that this man—this Fortune—could truly be hers?
“I have one more question for you,” he said as someone held open the door and they moved into the bright sunshine of the late January afternoon.
“What is it?”
He claimed her mouth for a kiss so exquisite it made all their other kisses seem like a prelude to this moment. Then her feet were on the ground, and if he hadn’t pulled her tight against him, she might have melted into a puddle on the sidewalk.
“Look up,” he told her.
“That’s not a question,” she answered, unable to resist teasing him. At the same time she registered the sound of an engine high above them. Her breath caught in her throat as she put a hand over her forehead to shade her eyes and looked up to where an airplane had scribed the words Marry Me? against the blue sky.
“Did you—”
“You told me you could feel my love as clearly as if was written across the sky. That’s what I’m offering you, Francesca. My love and my life are yours if you’ll have me.” She felt him shift then gasped when he dropped to one knee. “Will you have me? Say you’ll marry me and make me the happiest bloke on either side of the Atlantic.”
He pulled out a black velvet box and opened it to reveal the most amazing diamond ring she’d ever seen. It had a brilliant center stone with a row of rubies on either side. “I know it’s fast, but I swear my heart knew you were the one the first moment I walked into Lola May’s and saw you.”
She choked back a happy sob and whispered, “I think it was the pie.”
“It was you,” he said, his voice tender. “It will always be you.”
“Oh, Keaton.”
He made a face. “Can you clarify? Is that ‘oh, Keaton,’ yes, or ‘oh, Keaton,’ no? And please don’t let it be ‘no.’ Please let me prove to you every day for the rest of our lives how much I love you.”
She could see the love shining in his eyes, real and true and everything she’d ever dreamed about. But it was the slight hint of vulnerability that made the last of her doubts melt away. This man was written on her heart and she would spend forever loving him.
“Yes.”
He slipped the ring on her finger then straightened and lifted her into his arms. She kissed him fiercely, laying her claim to his love.
When she finally glanced up, Keaton used one finger to turn her head back toward the restaurant. The large windows were filled with the diner’s waitstaff and customers. Lola May was at the front, wiping tears from her cheeks.
“Francesca Fortune Whitfield,” Keaton whispered. “It sounds perfect to my ears.”
She beamed up at him. “As long as we’re together, I’ll take whatever life hands us, perfect or not.”
“A perfectly imperfect love,” he told her. “You and me forever.”
Epilogue
“What if she doesn’t like me?”
Keaton dropped a kiss on the tip of Francesca’s nose then turned to the edge of the sidewalk and held out a hand to hail a taxi. “My mum’s
going to love you. They all will.”
The streets around Trafalgar Square in central London were bustling, and he kept his fingers intertwined with Francesca’s. He wasn’t going to risk having her swept away in a tide of locals and tourists out on a rare sunny Saturday afternoon.
The truth was he’d had trouble letting Francesca out of his sight since she’d agreed to his proposal a week ago. It was still difficult to believe his beautiful waitress had given him a second chance. The first thing Keaton had done after introducing her to his half siblings was book two tickets for London. He couldn’t wait for his mother to meet the woman he loved with his whole heart. Luckily, Francesca had a long weekend off from classes the first part of February and Lola May had been more than accommodating in switching her shifts.
They’d arrived in London just this morning for a whirlwind weekend. He’d assumed Francesca would be exhausted from taking the red-eye, but she’d been brimming with energy and had insisted on a tour of all of his favorite places in London. They’d managed to visit his flat, the British Museum and several shops in the Bloomsbury neighborhood, along with a tour of Harrods and a quick walk through Hyde Park before stopping to view the iconic stone lions in Trafalgar Square. Now they were headed to his mother’s house to take tea with her and her girlfriends.
A black cab pulled up to the curb and Keaton held the door for Francesca, her blond curls whipping in the brisk winter wind. She pulled down her knit cap as she entered the cab then snuggled close to him when he slid in next to her.
“How did you live through London winters growing up?” she asked for the umpteenth time that day. “I can’t believe how cold it is here.”
“It’s actually warmer than normal thanks to the sunshine. When the weather is gray and misty, the chill seeps into your bones.” He wrapped an arm around Francesca’s shoulder as he gave the driver directions to his mother’s home. “But if cold weather means you’ll cuddle up to me,” he said, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek, “I think we’ll be planning an Antarctic honeymoon.”
A Fortune in Waiting Page 17
