Dear Agony

A NOVEL

-

GEORGIA CATES

GCB

GEORGIA CATES BOOKS, LLC

Published by Georgia Cates Books, LLC

Copyright © 2017 Georgia Cates

All rights reserved.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Editing services provided by Marion Archer of Making Manuscripts and Karen Lawson, The Proof is in the Reading.

Formatting by Jeff Senter of Indie Formatting Services

Cover photography by Lauren Perry of Perrywinkle Photography

Cover design by Georgia Cates

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CHAPTER ONE

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

She’s here again. The woman who always dresses in black. The woman with perfectly applied cosmetics and long silky, ebony hair. The woman who sits with crossed legs on a nearby bench and watches me for hours each day.

The woman who’s after something from me.

She puzzles me. And pisses me off.

What could a well-put-together lady like her want with a girl like me? I have nothing. It’s impossible for her to think otherwise.

Look at me. I’m on Jackson Square in New Orleans wearing a ridiculous Mardi Gras getup I found in a dumpster. I stand motionless, imitating a mannequin, and holding a pose on the steps of St. Louis Cathedral. I’ve spent the last two hours praying for kindness and mercy in the form of a few clinks in my tin bucket.

A trio of guys around my age stops in front of me. The tallest one in the bunch steps close and waves a ten-dollar bill back and forth in front of my face. My mouth floods as I consider how much food that would buy. “All you have to do is move. Grab it and it’s all yours, honey.”

I hate when men call me pet names. Just another way of degrading me. I’m no one’s honey or baby or sweetheart or kitten.

And I never will be.

I consider abandoning my pose and snatching the money. Ten bucks would cover my supper tonight plus breakfast in the morning. Maybe lunch tomorrow if I’m frugal.

The guy’s friend punches him in the shoulder. “Make her work for it, dumbass.”

“Right.” He shoves the bill down the front of his jeans. “All you gotta do is go after it, sweetheart.”

I’ve been doing this long enough to know that going after it isn’t all I have to do. No one gives you something for nothing in New Orleans.

Maybe I should do as he asks . . . and give his balls a twist while I’m in there. That would show this dick I’m not his honey or sweetheart.

The runt of the group slaps his friend on the back. “Look at her face, dude. She’s thinking it over.”

The jerk is totally right. I am considering diving into his pants to go fishing for that money. That’s how hungry I am.

I’m a millisecond away from breaking pose . . . until I remember she’s here. Watching me. And something beyond my empty stomach won’t allow me to cave to these pricks in front of her.

I’ve always been stubborn. It’s gotten me in trouble more times than I care to admit. And it will this time too, ultimately costing me meals I so desperately need. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Not while she’s watching. And judging.

Don’t know why I care.

“Come on, Mark. Don’t waste your money on this chick. She’s ugly anyway.”

She’s ugly. Pff . . . like that’s the first time I’ve ever heard that. Like I’m not immune to hearing those words.

Let it go, Rose. Let it roll off your back. Just like you always do. These idiots don’t define you.

The triad of ass monkeys leave, and I’m relieved. Grateful they didn’t stick around to sling more insults in my direction.

I never let jackasses like those guys get to me. I learned to wear my skin like armor a long time ago but this incident is different. She heard them taunt me. This gorgeous woman, with the straightest spine I’ve ever seen, heard them call me ugly.

A tingle in my nose stings, and I will it to stop. But it doesn’t. My stare becomes blurred and I fight the urge to blink, afraid she’ll see my tears and mistake them for something they are not.

I’m not hurt. Emotional pain isn’t possible when there’s only emptiness in the place where you once had a heart.

I. Am. Pissed.

Pissed this woman is here again. Pissed I don’t know why. Pissed she witnessed my humiliation.

Her attention is unwanted. Being noticed by people has never ended well for me. And I’m sure it won’t this time either.

I’ve stayed below the radar of many in my life. I actually became skillful and cunning about it. Until that night. The night I let my guard down.

The night I can’t remember.

The night I can’t forget.

I’ve had enough of this—of her—and whatever it is she’s trying to pull. She needs to leave me alone and go away. Now.

I break pose, hold out my hands, and shout at the woman. “Whaaat?”

I fume when I see the amusement spread across her flawless face and red-stained lips. “Do you really have so little going on in your life that you get a kick out of coming here day after day just to have a laugh at my expense?”

She gets up from the bench and approaches, her hips swaying with each long stride she takes in her skyscraper pumps. I don’t know how women walk in shoes like those.

She flashes a business card and several one hundred dollar bills. “Use this money to buy some decent clothes. Rent a room for the night and get cleaned up. You stink. And then meet me at The Court of Two Sisters. We have reservations for seven thirty tomorrow night.”

One. Two. Three. Four. This woman’s seriously handing over four hundred dollars? For nothing?

Nobody gives you something for nothing. And they definitely don’t give you four hundred dollars for nothing. “I’m not a hooker.”

“I’m aware.”

I’m calling her out on her MO. She needs to know I’m onto her and this little game she’s playing. “You’ve been watching me. I’ve seen you every day this week.”

She laughs, making me feel like I’m not privy to some kind of joke. “I’ve been watching you much longer than a week, Rose.”

Shit. She knows my name? “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“That’s a conversation for us to have over dinner after you’ve made yourself presentable. Not while we stand in front of St. Louis Cathedral with you looking like . . . that.”

I’m further humiliated when this elegant woman points out the fact that I look like a fool. “You think I like dressing this way? You think I really need you to tell me I look stupid?” I’m homeless—and maybe I am a nobody in everyone’s eyes—but she doesn’t have to be so unkind.

“I think you’re dressed like that because you’re surviving the only way you know how. But I want to show you a different way. If you want to hear what I have to say, be at The Court of Two Sisters tomorrow night.” She drops the card and bills in my bucket. “If you’re not interested, at least spend this money wisely.”

I quickly retrieve the money from my bucket, stuff it into the wrap around my chest acting as a bra, and flip over the card.

VALE

DUETS FOUNDATION

SPECIALIZING IN MUTUALLY BENEFICIAL RELATIONSHIPS

504-555-8900

VALE.DUETSFOUNDATION@MAIL.COM

I’m not into girls, but I can’t resist watching her swagger and listening to her heels click away on the pavement until she disappears around the corner. So elegant and graceful and classy.

“Specializing in mutually beneficial relationships.” I have no idea what that means and I don’t care. I’ll worry about Vale of Duets Foundation after my belly is full, I’m freshly showered, and I’m snuggling in a real bed with a roof over my head.

Or maybe I won’t. I made her no promises.

Agony, please don’t allow this hope to grow if nothing will come of it. I’m barely hanging on. Barely hanging on.

CHAPTER TWO

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

I’m in disguise tonight. The cosmetics, the dress, the shoes. All are a mask, covering the filth beneath my surface. They’re a veil hiding my dirty past. And present. I wear them like a bandage over a wound incapable of healing.

I catch a glimpse of the petite brunette’s reflection in the restaurant’s glass window. I don’t typically like looking at her but tonight she passes for something she isn’t. Elegant and graceful and classy.

The girl looking back at me can pretend all she likes but she’s only different on the outside. Embarrassment. Shame. Agony. Those things fill her to the brim, yet leave her feeling empty inside.

I tug on the bottom of my black dress to smooth the fabric before entering the restaurant. Sure, my attire is a cheap knockoff of an outfit the beneficial relationship specialist wore a few days ago. It’s an absurd notion—and for the life of me I can’t explain why—but I want this woman to approve of my appearance. I want her to see that I used the few beauty skills I have, even if unsuccessful, to make an attempt at looking presentable. I don’t want her to be ashamed to be seen with me in public.

Instinct forces me to lower my head and step aside when I notice I’m standing in the doorway blocking a well-dressed man from exiting the restaurant. “So sorry.”

“Oh, no. Pardon me,” he says as he holds the door open.

I look over my shoulder to see who the kind gesture is intended for but find no one there. Me? This handsome man in a suit is holding the door for me?

This doesn’t happen.

Men don’t behave like gentlemen in my presence.

Ever.

They taunt me with unkind words. Proposition me with money in exchange for filthy acts. Take what pleasures them without any regard for the pain remaining in its aftermath.

“Thank you.” I smile at the man as I walk through the opened door—and then something else that never happens, does. Eye contact. His eyes meet mine. And despite the kindness I see there, I’m overwhelmed by the urge to look away.

I want to glance back after I pass through the doorway to see if the handsome man is still looking at me. But I’m afraid.

Afraid he is.

Afraid he isn’t.

“Welcome to The Court of Two Sisters. How may I help you?”

“I’m meeting someone for dinner at seven thirty.”

“What name is on the reservation?”

The woman never told me her name. I only know what the card said. “Vale?”

“Yes. Your party has already arrived. Right this way, Madame.” Madame? I don’t think anyone has called me that in my entire life.

I’m led to a courtyard where strings of clear lighting are draped throughout the limbs of the trees. Looks like some kind of glimmering wonderland. Magical. Beautiful.

The woman, Vale, smiles when she sees me being escorted to her table. Has there ever been a time when someone seemed so glad to see me?

The host pulls out my chair and pushes it under me when I lower myself to sit. Surreal. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

The nearly black hair. The red-stained lips. Pale skin. All she needs to do is replace her black dress with a red, blue, and yellow one to pull off being Snow White. I hope she doesn’t turn out to be the wicked witch with a poison apple.

“I’m very happy you came. I didn’t know if you would.”

“I’m not in a position to forego a free meal. Especially in a restaurant like this.” I’ve walked past this place a thousand times and there’s always a delicious aroma in the air. I’ve wondered what it would be like to dine here because from the outside, everything looks so fancy.

She smiles and I can’t help but admire her white, perfect teeth. No gaps or overlapping. No discoloration. No weird underbite like mine. I’d love to have teeth like those. I’d smile all the time if I did. Maybe.

“You like this restaurant, huh?”

“Of course. It’s so nice. Who wouldn’t like it?”

She chuckles below her breath. “You are very easily impressed.”

A girl like me doesn’t get to dine in restaurants with cloth napkins and real utensils. I’m more of a fast-food/convenience store/street vendor kind of foodie. Unless I’ve made no money for the day and I’m forced to dumpster dive. That’s something I strongly suspect this woman already knows about me. And the burning question is why? Why me?

As much as I appreciate the money and free meal, I need to know what she wants. “Watching me. Giving me money. Inviting me to dinner. Knowing my name. What is this about?”

“That discussion is coming. But let’s enjoy our meal and some drinks first.”

A server appears, as if on cue to interrupt the debate I’m about to begin, and places a glass of wine in front of each of us. “Your dinner will be out soon.”

“Thank you.”

“But I haven’t ordered.” No way I’m leaving this place without a meal. That would be the ultimate disappointment.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

The server looks at me. “Is that satisfactory, Madame?” Again with Madame.

Disappointment rushes over me like a cold shower. I don’t get to order food in restaurants like this. I really wanted to choose my own meal but I guess I don’t get to since I’m not the one paying. “It’s fine.”

“I promise you’ll enjoy the Chicken Oscar very much.”

I like chicken but I don’t know about the Oscar part. “Oscar isn’t in the escargot family, is it?” I’ll be so disappointed—and disgusted—if they bring me snails.

“Oscar refers to the topping on the chicken. It’s crabmeat and hollandaise, not escargot.”

“Thank God.” Doesn’t matter if I’m homeless or not. No way I’m putting something snotty like that in my mouth.

Vale nods toward my glass. “This wine goes very well with the Chicken Oscar.”

I shrug. “I don’t want to get in trouble for underage drinking.” A problem with the authorities is the last thing I need in my life right now, but I’m more concerned with keeping my wits about me.

“It’s fine, Rose. A nineteen-year-old having a glass of wine with dinner isn’t the worst thing that ever happened in New Orleans. It actually falls pretty low on the police list of concerns.”

Shit. She knows my name and age?

I get the distinct feeling this woman knows more about me than just my name and age. And it’s a total violation of my privacy. Why has she made it her business to know anything about me at all?

“I’m sorry. I can’t sit here and pretend this is a casual dinner being shared between old friends. You want something from me, and I’d really like to know what it is.” So I can run like hell if I need to.

“You’re a no-nonsense kind of girl. I like that about you. And it’s one of the reasons I chose you.”

Something about that frightens me. “Chose me for what?”

“I’m a business woman, Rose. A very savvy one who has made a career out of connecting people—very successful men and success-driven women—for mutually beneficial relationships.”

Ahh . . . the pieces are coming together now. “Your card says you specialize in mutually beneficial relationships. Is that a fancy way to say you’re a madam?”

“Absolutely not.”

I may be young and not well educated, but I can add two and two. “All signs are pointing in that direction.”

“The connections I make between men and women aren’t about sex. That’s not to say that the relationships never progress down an intimate path. They do sometimes, but sex is never the purpose behind the introductions I make.”

“What do you mean when you say connections? And introductions?”

“Successful men thrive because they work hard. Hard work requires time, which means they don’t often have the luxury of going out for pleasure. That makes it difficult for them to meet women.”

Oh. Duets Foundation must be some kind of matchmaking service or something. “I’m not interested in a boyfriend.”

This lady is dumb if she thinks dating is anywhere on my radar. Even if I hadn’t written men off completely, my biggest concern right now is survival.

“My clients aren’t on a mission to find a girlfriend or wife. They want clever, talented, engaging, readily available women for the evening or the week or the month. Whatever fits into their schedule. And they’re willing to pay top dollar for that woman’s time and company.”

She isn’t doing this out of the kindness of her heart. “You mean you get paid top dollar.”

“Every woman brought on board is a huge upfront expense for me. I employ full-time professionals to transform my duet girls from head-to-toe. Of course, that consists of the typical things like hair and cosmetics and a designer wardrobe, but it doesn’t stop there. Each woman who represents Duets Foundation must be articulate, have the ability to go head-to-head in an intelligent conversation about a wide range of topics, and demonstrate proper etiquette always. Plus, it’s imperative she’s able to defend herself in the event of an assault. I invest my time, my effort, and my money in every woman while training her. So yes, I am paid top dollar by these men. But my girls are nicely compensated as well. They stick around. The only women who have ever left Duets did so to either further their education or to marry a client after falling in love.”

Falling in love doesn’t interest me in the least but the part about furthering an education definitely catches my attention.

“How much does a Duets girl earn doing something like this?”

“I require each girl to earn back the initial investment I make in her. Once she does that, I give her a fifteen percent royalty fee from what I’m paid. I know that sounds low but she keeps one hundred percent of any earnings made from her client. That could be in the form of gifts, cash, a predetermined allowance, even college tuition. Anything given to her directly from the client is hers to keep free and clear.”

College tuition? It’s unreal that an opportunity to further my education would fall into my lap like this. Why? “I want to know how you know my name and age. And anything else you’ve dug up about me.”

“I have a liaison at the homeless shelter. I pay her to notify me anytime a potential Duet comes through.”

“Your liaison told you personal information about me?” No way that’s not illegal.

“She tells me enough so I can decide if I think the girl is worth pursuing.”

All the pieces suddenly click. “Oh my God. You’re the one the girls at the shelter call Fairy Godmother.” The woman who takes girls off the street and teaches them to be classy ladies. I thought she was an urban legend.

“Are you asking me to become a Duets girl?”

“I’m asking you to become something different. Something more. Something so much better. A special project I’ve been strategizing for two years. My prodigy.”

“What makes your prodigy different from the other Duets girls?”

“Your training would be much more in-depth. Two years minimum instead of the usual six months.”

Two years training? Aside from the time she’d spend on me, that’s a huge financial investment. How can she place so much faith in me?

“The end goal would be to secure a long-term companionship agreement with a single man. You’d never have sporadic arrangements with multiple men like the other girls. You’d live with your companion.”

Long-term companionship where I’d live with him. My mind immediately skims over that part and considers what living with a companion means.

A roof over my head. A bed to sleep in. Food in my stomach.

If I agree to do this, I wouldn’t mind the stability to go along with it. No more living on the streets. No more hand to mouth. No more constant fear.

Although I like the idea of safety and security, I need to know how long I’d be locked into this agreement. “What is considered long-term for something like this?”

“Six months? A year? Two years? The timeframe would be negotiable between you and the client.”

“I assume something like this would be expensive for the client.” She said I’d earn a fifteen percent royalty once her investment was earned back.

“Two years of training would be costly. The only way to recoup my investment would be to charge one million dollars for your first assignment.”

Holy smokes.

One. Million. Dollars.

For real?

This is crazy talk.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why would any man fork over that kind of money for a woman who won’t have sex with him when he could get a prostitute?” I’m certain that would be a much cheaper route.

“When men want sex, they get a prostitute. When they want companionship with a wholesome girl they’re proud to take out in public, they come to me.”

I don’t know what makes her think I’m wholesome.

I’m not.

And this sounds way too good to be true.

“Let’s say that there’s a man who’s looking for a wholesome companion. Why would he pay a million dollars to spend time with a homeless street performer?”

“You wouldn’t be a homeless street performer when your training ended. You’ll be beautiful. Elegant. Charming. Men will crave your company and be willing to pay big money for it.”

It’s hard for me to believe this woman possesses the skills to make me pretty, much less beautiful and desirable.

I’m not sure I want to be made beautiful.

And I’m really not sure I want to be made desirable.

I’m not completely sure I could be made beautiful or desirable. Ever.

Every time I look at you, all I see is him.

You ruined my life.

I wish you were never born.

It’s hard to comprehend why someone would see value in you when your own mother didn’t. “Why me?”

“This is about so much more than a pretty face and sexy body. It’s going to require strength. Resilience. Loyalty. I think you possess all of those qualities.”

No doubt about it. This year has made me stronger and more resilient. But loyal, I’m not so sure. I hold everyone at a distance. I’ve never gotten close enough to know if I’m capable of being devoted.

“Being homeless and having no idea when I’ll eat again is scary but it’s nothing compared to the prospect of saying yes to this.” It feels like selling my soul.

“Would you feel better if I said you won’t be matched with a man unless you approve of him and the terms of his companionship agreement?”

I’d have a little control. “That would help.”

"You’ll have your own terms as well, and he must abide by them or the deal is off. You won’t have to do anything you don’t agree to.”

I inhale deeply and blow out slowly. “I don’t know about this.”

“Let me train you for a month. If you don’t like the way things go, we’ll part ways. No hard feelings.”

A trial period seems like a logical idea. “You do understand that if I decide to leave, I’ll have no way of reimbursing you for the expenses you’ll incur during my training?”

Vale points to her face. “Do you see this? It’s called lack of concern.”

She wants me. Not a prettier or smarter girl. Me. I still don’t understand why, but I’m using it as a bargaining chip to secure my future.

“I want to go to college.” I have no idea what I want to do or become, but I know college is the only way to get where I aspire to be one day.

“That can be arranged.”

She’s saying yes? Just like that? No hesitation? “Then I guess you and I have an arrangement.”

“Perfect. We start first thing in the morning.”

“Let’s toast.” Vale lifts her glass and I mimic her because I don’t know what else to do. “Your new life. It begins now.”

CHAPTER THREE

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

I’m standing in a long room, one of the walls covered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. My worst nightmare. Looking at myself in a normal-size mirror is bad enough but this is just brutal.

“Your gait and posture are horrid.” Vale places a pair of tall black pumps on the floor in front of me. I’ve got news for her. Shoes like those aren’t going to improve my gait or my posture. I’ll probably end up face first on the floor.

I can’t believe this. It’s seven in the morning on training day number one, and I’m already being put in heels like the ones she wears?

“We’ll begin your stride training with these seventy-five millimeter heels. I fear you’ll break an ankle if we go with anything higher. You’ll need to work your way up to the one forties. You’re short so I’d really like to get you in some one sixties but that might be pushing it.”

Vale is short too. I guess that’s why she wears the skyscraper kind.

I pick up the shoes and examine them. I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t know the millimeter to inches conversion but at a glance I’m guessing these have about a three-inch heel. “Lou . . . boutin?”

“Lou . . . bou . . . tin. It’s French. Nasalize the ‘n’ on the end.” Vale gestures toward the shoes with grace as though she’s treating them with respect. “Louboutin.”

She acts as though these shoes are some kind of big deal or something. “I’ve never heard of Lou . . . bou . . . tin.”

“You’ve never heard of Christian Louboutin?”

I hear the disbelief in her voice but if I didn’t, I’d see it on her face. “Nope. Sorry.”

“He’s a famous French designer. The red-lacquered sole is his signature mark.”

Famous French designer with a signature mark. I guess that’s why she’s acting so gaga over these shoes. “That means these are expensive?”

“These shoes are a very basic design, and they cost seven hundred dollars.” She extends her leg and points her toe to display her black four- or five-inch pump covered with gold spike studs. “These were twelve hundred.”

“Whoooa.” That’s serious cash for something you’ll walk on.

“A single pair of these shoes is nothing. The man you’re matched with will fill your closet with many pairs of shoes like these plus designer clothes and handbags. He’ll want you to look your best whether he’s taking you out or you’re simply sitting on the sofa for him to look at. You’ll get the total package.”

I don’t need designer shoes and clothes and handbags. I’ll be happy with a place to live and food to eat.

Everything Vale says about the arrangement I’ll have with the client still feels very uncertain to me. And very unlikely. I can’t wrap my head around any man wanting to buy extravagant things for me. Especially when I don’t put out.

“Slip the shoes on and see how your body and attitude completely transform. They’ll lift you physically and emotionally.”

She acts like stepping into these shoes will be some kind of earthmoving experience. But I’m no Cinderella and she’s no fairy godmother, even if that is what some people call her. From what she’s told me, the client I’m paired with will be neither handsome nor Prince Charming.

Vale gave me a long talking-to last night about the type of men who seek her services. Her clients aren’t stud muffins. They’re older and unattractive, but rich and successful.

Who am I to judge someone based on how they appear?

Age is a number and appearance is subjective. I don’t guess it matters that he’ll look like my grandfather as long as he’s kind and treats me well.

I look at the shoes on the floor, and I already know my body and attitude won’t be completely transformed as Vale describes. I won’t be lifted physically and emotionally. These shoes will be a guise, just as last night’s attire and cosmetics were.

I’ll probably look like a fool trying to walk in them. And I’ll be humiliated in front of her. Again.

She’s going to see that she was wrong. I can’t be elegant.

Why is she wasting something so nice and expensive like this on me?

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel right putting on a pair of shoes that cost so much.”

“Why?”

“I don’t feel good enough for them.” I hate admitting that.

Vale directs me to stand on two pieces of crisscrossed masking tape on the floor forming an X and points at my reflection. “Look at the girl staring back at you.”

It’s grueling to lift my eyes from the floor and look at myself. I don’t want to do it.

“Look and tell me what you see.”

A shell. No, a cocoon. Tough with multi-layers to protect the inner butterfly. Except when it’s time to come out, she discovers she isn’t a butterfly at all. She’s a moth.

Vale grasps my shoulders. “Who is that girl?”

“Rose Middleton.”

“I want you to tell me who Rose Middleton is.”

I look at the skinny girl with unruly hair. The pale complexion. The eyes that can’t ever decide if they want to be gray, brown, or green. “Rose Middleton is nobody.”

“How do you feel about that girl in the mirror? Besides her being a nobody.”

This is the part where I’m supposed to clam up. Pretend all is well. Tell lots of pretty lies so I appear okay. But I’m not going to this time. This woman is making a huge investment in me. She deserves to know what she’s getting so she can toss me back if she wants. “I hate her.”

“What do you hate about her?”

“Her face. Her hair. Her body. Her weakness. I. Hate. Everything. About. Her.”

“How can you hate everything about her?”

“She’s filthy. And stupid. And ugly. Nothing but a nuisance.”

Vale walks around to stand in front of me so we’re face to face and her eyes are glassy. “Is that what you were told?”

“That, among a lot of other hateful things.” It’s hard admitting that the only person in the world who is supposed to love you said such horrid things.

“It isn’t true. You aren’t filthy or stupid or ugly or a nuisance. Not even close. You are a beautiful young woman, and you are deserving of good things and happiness.”

Vale lowers herself and positions the shoes in front of me. “And you’re deserving of Louboutins on your feet.”

I instantly grow three inches when I step into the shoes and rise eye to eye with Vale. It’s impossible to ignore the compulsion eating at me to lower my head or look away.

“Don’t do that. Don’t cast your eyes downward like you’re unworthy. Maintain eye contact. It conveys confidence and comfort.”

“But I’m not the least bit confident or comfortable.”

“Maybe you aren’t at ease right now but you will be in time. It’s one of the things your companion will take pleasure in.”

Companion. That’s a really scary word for someone like me. I’m making myself vulnerable to a man—one I don’t know. Why would I even consider that when the men I’ve known have proven how truly evil they can be?

Am I so desperate to get off the streets that I’m willing to do something like this? Let a stranger buy my time and companionship?

Yes, I am just that desperate. And there’s an upside. Becoming companion to one man means I’m vulnerable to a single person. Living on the streets has proven I’m susceptible to danger with every person I encounter.

I’m only nineteen but already so old. And so tired. Being on the defense every moment of your existence since birth is exhausting. I just need a little break. A little rest. A little security. Is it so wrong to take advantage of what’s being offered if it diverts me from my daily hell?

This arrangement won’t last forever. I’ll take this time to get on my feet. And hopefully learn some things in the process from a successful businessman. A mentor. Someone to show me how to be successful in life.

A business deal. That’s all this is. That makes me a savvy businesswoman. Not an escort. Not a prostitute. Not a whore.

Vale sees me so differently to how I’ve seen myself. Could it be true? Could what she’s offering allow me to start building a life? One that brings me happiness?

You aren’t filthy or stupid or a nuisance. Not even close. You are a beautiful young woman, and you are deserving of good things and happiness.

Could those things be true?

Vale places one hand on my lower back and presses forward as she pushes my upper chest backward. “Stand up straight. Lift your chest but keep your ribcage tucked.” She circles me, studying my posture, and taps the tops of my upper arms. “Relax your shoulders but don’t slump. Roll them backward.”

I think my stride training coach means poke out my boobs.

She stands in front of me and places her fingers beneath my face. “A slight lift of the chin makes you visibly confident. Too much lift and you appear arrogant. It’s a fine line, Rose. Be careful to not cross it. My clients don’t care for women who look down their noses. Reminds them of their snooty wives. They pay for warm and welcoming.”

My mental brakes come to a screeching halt. I’m surprised smoke isn’t coming out my ears. “You didn’t say anything about an affair with a married men.”

“Because that’s not what it would be.”

I beg to differ. “Being a companion to a man with a wife is cheating even if the relationship isn’t sexual.” It would be emotional infidelity. I think that would be far worse than any physical indiscretion. But what do I know? I’ve never been married. Heck, I’ve never even had a boyfriend.

“My girls do all sorts of activities with their companions. Golf. Tennis. Casinos. Concerts. Ballgames. It’s not considered cheating when he does those things with his male friends so why is it cheating because he does it with a woman?”

“He can tell his wife he’s going to a concert with his buddy. I’m doubtful he’ll tell her he’s doing it with a woman half his age or younger.”

“Okay. Companion must be unmarried. That term has been duly noted.” She’s listening to me? I have a voice?

Vale stands behind me and points at my reflection in the mirror again. “That woman, Rose Middleton, isn’t a nobody. She isn’t filthy or stupid or a nuisance. She’s special and intelligent and beautiful and deserving of good things.”

I look down. I can’t help myself because I’m so uncomfortable with hearing her say those things about me.

“No. You don’t get to drop your head and look away. That’s what the old Rose would do. The new Rose holds her head high because she has no shame.”

“But I am ashamed.” I’m embarrassed about who I am. Who I’ve been. Humiliated by the things that have been done to me.

“It’s easy to see that you’ve been deeply wounded—and trust me, I appreciate your pain—but the past is the past. Today is your new beginning. Now look in the mirror and tell me who Rose Middleton is.”

Vale sees something in me. She’s willing to take a risk on whatever that is. For the life of me, I don’t know what it could be but it makes me want to . . . try. Try to be more. If not for myself, then for her.

Rose Middleton is special and intelligent and beautiful and deserving of good things.

They’re just words. I can do this. “Rose Middleton is special and intelligent and beautiful and deserving of good things.” I look down at the black leather covering my feet. “And I’m deserving of these.”

“Good. You’ve said the words. Now we have to make you believe them.”

Good luck with that.

***

Week one of training down—one quarter of my trial period behind me. So far, I’m not sorry I accepted this offer.

Life is good.

Agony, I don’t miss you. Hunger, I don’t miss you, either. Not even a little.

It’s been six days since I saw Vale’s physician for my head-to-toe assessment. I’m pretty sure I was tested for everything under the sun. And below the belt. Diagnosis: undernourished and anemic. No surprise there.

I’m being fed multiple small meals each day with healthy snacks in between. I haven’t experienced hunger a single time this week. Don’t miss digging through trash because I can no longer take the pain in my stomach.

I’m taking daily vitamins and iron supplements prescribed by the doctor as well. It may be my imagination but I think I already feel my energy level increasing. Good thing because I begin working with a personal trainer tomorrow. I’m glad because I need my body strong and fit for what’s ahead of me.

Every night, my weary body revels in a soft, luxuriant bed surrounded by the feel of fine linens. Unbelievable. Amazing.

I never knew what eight full hours of restful sleep could do for your body. No more waking every fifteen minutes because I’m terrified someone will steal my only possessions. Or slit my throat.

I could get used to this life.

Today is makeover day, starting with this mop on my head. I’m not sad to see what a professional can do with this hot mess. It needs a serious intervention.

The hair stylist, Gregory, removes my ponytail holder and shakes my hair so it falls over my shoulders and back. “What are we doing with this gorgeous head of hair today?” No one has ever called my hair gorgeous.

“I have no idea.” I haven’t had a proper haircut in years so I’m the wrong person to ask. Although I’m pretty sure he’s asking the boss and not me.

The boss. That’s what I call Vale in my head.

The boss steps up and takes control of the appointment. “I was thinking a gloss to boost the shine and cut some long layers. Maybe shorter pieces in the front to frame her face.”

My hair is thick and coarse. And troublesome. It’s been difficult to manage my whole life. Except for the time my mother chopped it off to my chin over the bathroom sink because she was sick of dealing with its unmanageability.

Why are you always so much damn trouble?

Everything about you is a hassle. Especially this hair. It’s just like his.

I am not dealing with this shit anymore.

Man, the kids at school made fun of that haircut for weeks. One of the more miserable times of my life. I thought things couldn’t get worse than my schoolmates laughing at my hair.

I was wrong.

So very wrong.

“Long layers are a good choice. It’s too pretty to cut short. But I’ll need to thin it quite a bit so it’ll be manageable.”

Manageable? That word is like hearing angels sing from above. “That would be great. And can you show me how to style it?” No one has ever taught me how to care for my hair. Or for myself.

“Of course, darling.” Darling. It’s the first time a man has ever called me a pet name and I didn’t mind.

I watch the dark hair falling around me and imagine the old Rose being cut away one lock at a time until only the new Rose remains.

The new Rose is special. She’s intelligent. Beautiful. And deserving of good things.

I repeat those words to myself ten times a day, just as Vale instructed. Seventy times this week. She says that if I keep saying it, I’ll eventually believe it. I’m waiting, but so far, no part of it has sunk into my thick skull.

“Vale tells me you’ll be starting classes at Tulane next week. That must be exciting.”

“It is. But it’s also scary.”

I was a vagrant last week. I’ll be a college student in five days. All because of Vale. I still don’t know how she managed to get me enrolled on such short notice. And with my less than stellar transcript.

“Only the first day is scary. Then college is a total blast.”

I doubt it’ll be much of a blast for me. When I’m not studying, I’ll be training with Vale. She was very clear about that being part of the tradeoff. But I don’t mind. I had no intention of partying anyway.

I’m used to being a loner, and I’m okay with that. I’ve never made friends easily. Been that way my whole life. I mostly shied away from other kids, especially after the story broke about my biological father. The kids at school were so cruel that I really had no choice but to close myself off. It wasn’t until we moved to New Orleans that I felt some semblance of normalcy and was able to make friends for the first time.

And that didn’t end well.

“Picked your major?”

“Not yet. I’m just taking the pre-requisite stuff until I make a decision.”

I should probably be driven to do something like counseling. I could probably help girls like myself—but I’m just so sick of that world. And tired of the fight. I need those things out of my life.

I want something different for myself. Success. Wealth. Prosperity.

Happiness.

All of the things I’ve been told I don’t deserve.

All of the things I’ve been told I’ll never have.

All of the things I’ve only ever dreamed of.

THREE YEARS LATER

-

CHAPTER FOUR

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

“How’s the brothel business this quarter, Madame Vale?” V hates when I call her that. So, of course, that’s why I do it.

She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Her spine isn’t the straight rod it is when she’s in Madame Vale mode. This is V. My V. The V I grew up with. “You can be such an irritating jackass sometimes.”

“I helped finance your cathouse so you could make a profession out of flesh-peddling. I wouldn’t be a very wise businessman if I didn’t ask how things were going.” Cathouse. Flesh-peddling. Those terms should really get her riled up.

“I’m going to kick you in your balls under this table and laugh while you choke on those shrimp if you don’t show my legitimate business the respect it deserves.” If V says she’ll put her foot in my nuts, she means it.

Everything about Duets Foundation is a legitimate business. Its earnings prove it. “You know the only reason I mess with you about DF is because I love and adore you. And because it’s one of my most profitable investments to date.”

“I know. And it’s the only reason I’m not digging my spiked heel into your family jewels right now.”

The concept and brand Vale has created amazes me more and more every quarter. “You’ve created a highly successful business. I’m proud of you and your impressive accomplishments.”

“I wouldn’t have DF without you.”

I don’t believe that for a second. Vale has always been driven. Business-minded. Motivated to succeed. Even when she was a teenager, she always had some kind of moneymaking strategy up her sleeve. “I have no doubt you would have found a way to start up the foundation if I hadn’t been on board.”

“I imagine I would have had a hard time convincing a loan officer at a bank to finance my cathouse. Good thing my best friend is a multi-millionaire with money to throw at my flesh-peddling ventures.”

I never cared what Duets Foundation was about. I would have financed a snow cone business in Alaska for Vale. I love her that much. But lucky for me it was an investment with a concept I liked. I still like the concept. And I like the financial return even more. It’s been a win-win for both of us.

Vale slides an envelope across the table. “It’s the quarterly plus a substantial balloon payment.”

I hate when she does this. “That’s not necessary.”

“I want to pay off my debt as quickly as possible.”

Vale has no way of knowing that I won’t live long enough to see this debt paid in full. I’d prefer she keep her money. “Take as long as you need.”

“That’s not how I roll. You were generous enough to loan the money to me. I won’t take advantage of your kindness by not paying it back—with interest—in a reasonable timeframe.”

Vale is proud. I respect that she wants to clear her debt in a timely manner but she has nothing to prove to me. “I know exactly how you roll. It’s one of the reasons I worry you’re paying this loan back too quickly. I don’t want you to put your hard work and investment at risk. You should hold on to the capital.”

“Duets Foundation is doing great. Really.” I don’t doubt that for a moment based on the balloon payments she’s made this year.

Now feels like the perfect time to ask about her investment. “How is the special project working out? Your prodigy?”

“Rose is perfect. Couldn’t be working out better.”

I’m not sure how that can be the case. Rose hasn’t turned a profit for Vale since she took her in three years ago. “How much longer until you place her with a client?”

“I’ve actually been rethinking that decision.”

Vale initially said she’d invest two years in this woman. Two became three. Now, it sounds like she’s going to procrastinate about matching her with a client once again. “Why do you keep putting it off? Don’t you need to recoup your investment in her?”

“Rose is the best trainee I’ve ever had. I feel like I can utilize her talents far better than what I originally planned.”

Vale has a soft place in her heart for this woman and has from the start. She sends her to college. Gives her the best of everything. Treats her differently than the other Duets girls. “What’s going on with you and this woman?”

“She’s not like the other Duets. I’ve never seen a more loyal or dedicated trainee. She’s on a completely different level when it comes to judgment and intellect.” Vale’s face lights up like a candle when she talks about Rose.

I’ve been happy to stay in the background where DF is concerned. I’ve certainly never had a desire to meet any of the women Vale has taken on as a Duet. But this one . . . this Rose. I’ve become curious about her and the role she has in my best friend’s life. It’s impossible not to wonder why Vale thinks so highly of her, yet has never introduced us.

“Rose should be highly intelligent. You’ve sent her to Tulane for three years and spent a ton of money on her education. I presume she’s done well?”

“Wonderfully so. Rose is business-minded. She understands my company, and I believe she could be a huge asset to Duets. I’m thinking of making her partner and using her full-time to help me train new girls. I could double the number of new trainees coming on if I had her help. I could pay my loan back in half the time.”

Sorry, Vale. That isn’t going to work for me.

Vale and I have much different plans for her prodigy. “I think you’re absolutely right. Rose could be a huge asset to Duets but in a very different way.”

“You know I’m always open to suggestions.”

“I have a business proposition.” Vale sits straighter, getting into Madame Vale mode. “I will eliminate your remaining debt of two million dollars in exchange for Rose. I want her as my companion.”

A huge wrinkle forms across Vale’s brow as she looks at me, saying nothing.

I’ve never offered advice or thoughts or direction on how Vale should run her company. And although I’m presenting this like a business proposition, it isn’t in the least. Making Rose my companion has nothing to do with Duets and everything to do with me.

I need Rose.

I want her.

I’ve had this conversation with Vale a thousand times in my head. I’ve imagined her having all kinds of reactions but silence wasn’t one of them.

“What are you thinking?”

She hesitates before answering. “I’m not sure what I’m thinking. You’ve caught me off guard.”

Apparently so.

I need her to say yes. “You know how much I work. My schedule isn’t conducive for dating. Women want time and attention—something I’m not able to give them.”

She’s looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. I guess in this case, one could say I have.

She still isn’t offering a response. I have to be more persuasive.

“Your clients always return so that proves they’re pleased with the paid companion process. Maybe it could work for me too. And even if it doesn’t, even if Rose doesn’t work out as my companion, your debt is still cleared.”

“Any Duets girl will work as your companion.”

“I want Rose.”

“Why?”

“You say she’s intelligent and dedicated and loyal. By your own account, she’s the best Duet you’ve ever trained. You know me, V. You understand my need for excellence. I expect to have the best, which is why for two million dollars, I want Rose.”

“Rose isn’t going to sleep with you. You can forget that. It’s one of her stipulations.”

“I could find a piece of ass if I was after sex.”

“And I know you do.” Vale isn’t wrong.

I’m a man. I need a woman from time to time. I can’t help that the flesh-peddler doesn’t always approve of my choices in sexual partners.

Making Rose my companion is about something more. Something I’m not ready to tell my best friend. “I don’t want romance, V. I want someone there at night when I come home from work. Someone I can talk to over dinner. Someone to travel with me when I go out of town for work. I’m tired of being alone.”

“Why do this? Why not settle down with a nice girl and finally get married?”

Romance isn’t an option. A true connection is off the table. Any relationship I have must be on my terms. A paid companion is the only way to ensure it doesn’t become clouded with love or sex. “Too much work. This is the easy button. I have a loyal companion with zero commitment. I get to do as I please minus the hassle and nagging.”

“I don’t know. I need time to think about this.”

I don’t want to give her time. I want this agreement finalized tonight. “Come on, V. This is a no-brainer. My offer is above and beyond generous and you know it.”

“I’m not disputing that—and I wouldn’t hesitate if it were any other Duet—but you’re asking me to give you Rose.”

Vale has never cared so much about a trainee. “Who is this girl to you? Why are you so unwilling to release her from your hold?”

Vale lowers her eyes, breaking our contact. “She has come to mean a lot to me. I think of her as the daughter I never had.”

Vale and I share a bond I can’t quite label. We’re more than just best friends. We grew up together in the same house. Our relationship very much resembles that of siblings, minus the discord, so I’m a little taken aback by her hesitancy to accept my proposition. Yes, she had plans to use her to train new Duets, but couldn’t Rose do that during the day and still be home at night for me?

“I will treat her well. You never have to question that with me.”

She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t. Not even for a second. It’s just that . . . somewhere along the way, she became my companion. Trading her to you means giving up a relationship I’ve come to treasure. I’m not sure I’m willing to do that.”

“Not even for two million dollars?”

“It’s a generous offer, Bastien. Truly.” She’s really saying no?

It’s not as though she’ll never see her again. “You can still see Rose each day at the office.”

Vale looks truly pained by the thought of parting with this woman. It’s not as if I’m taking her to live in a different country.

I knew Vale had grown fond of Rose over the last three years. I guess it would be difficult not to when you live under the same roof and spend so much time together. But I had no idea Vale was so deeply attached to her.

She has come to mean a lot to me. I think of her as the daughter I never had. How did I not see that? Was I really working so much that I failed to see their growing connection?

“Rose and I made an agreement when she came on. She must meet and approve of any potential companion.”

“Rose gets to pick and choose her companion while the others must take whatever geezer they’re assigned to?” Damn, she really does show this woman favoritism.

“Spending one night on the arm of a man you don’t like is much different than living with him for six months or a year or maybe longer.”

I see her point. “Does she have other stipulations I should be aware of?”

“Initial approval and abstinence are the two big ones with her. The other conditions are typical things: respect and dignity. No form of physical, verbal, or emotional abuse.”

Piece of cake. “Understood. I’d like to meet her as soon as possible.”

“Why the rush?”

The sand in my hourglass is falling.

“You know me. I’m impatient once I decide I want something.” That isn’t a lie. I want what I want when I want it. Period. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m accustomed to having my way. V knows how relentless I am. In some respects, we’re very much alike in that way.

“She’s tied up with finals at school this week. Friday night is the earliest I can arrange a meeting.”

Dammit. I have a business dinner with a client. “Friday’s no good. Saturday night?”

“I’ll need to verify it with her, but Saturday night should work.”

“She won’t have a date?” She may be a Duet but she’s still a single woman.

“Rose doesn’t date.” What?

“Ever?”

“No. Never.”

Why not? Is she unattractive? Awkward? Difficult to speak to? Vale wouldn’t have chosen a woman with those characteristics to be her prodigy.

I’ve heard for years what a beauty Rose is, inside and out. I must admit that Vale’s description has surprisingly piqued my curiosity and desire to meet her.

I’m intrigued by the mystery of this woman.

“What are your thoughts on inviting her to dinner at my house?” Vale knows I’m a homebody who prefers to cook rather than dine out.

I want to gain Rose’s approval. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to do that by impressing her with my house—the place she’ll call home if she agrees.

“Your house alone is enough to sway anyone’s decision.” She laughs lightly.

“Good. Because I want her to live with me.”

“That won’t be a problem. I trained her from the start to expect her companion to want her living in his home.”

I don’t want her to mistake living with me for something it’s not. “This won’t be a romantic relationship. If either of us wishes to date outside of the companionship, we are free to do so.”

“She won’t object to you dating.”

I have one vital stipulation and there’s no room for negotiation. “When I say it’s time for the relationship to end, it’s over. She leaves without question.”

“Rose understands that the client determines when she’s fulfilled her obligation. When you decide it’s time for her to go, she won’t give you an argument.”

“I have to know that she understands my terms and swears she’ll comply with them or I won’t go forward with this.” It’s of the upmost importance.

“Now, you’re just being weird.” I wish I could tell Vale the truth. “I assure you Rose won’t give you problems about leaving. You have my word.”

“All right. I’m putting my faith in your word.”

As much as I regret leaving this life without having known the love of a woman, I can’t let anything beyond a friendship grow between us. If Rose gives me a problem about leaving, then that means feelings have developed.

And that can’t happen.

CHAPTER FIVE

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

Winter break. Final exams behind me. Four weeks of freedom ahead.

Life is good.

Vale and I haven’t made the final decision on our Christmas break trip this year but I’m shooting for a warm, sunny destination where I can soak up some rays. I’m not much of a cold weather fan. Still haven’t forgotten what it felt like to be homeless in December.

I’m surfing potential beach destinations when Vale appears in my bedroom’s doorway. “Hey. Perfect timing. Come here and look at these magnificent resorts with me.”

I spin my laptop around to display the beautiful white beaches and turquoise waters of a private resort in Jamaica. “This place looks absolutely amazing.”

“It’s beautiful.” She doesn’t like it. There’s no excitement in her voice.

I click on the other tab to show her the second resort I’m looking at. “Or maybe this place. An all-inclusive in Cancun. The ratings are really good and they have vacancies for the days we plan to travel.”

“That one looks great, too.”

Her words say one thing but the lack of happiness in her voice and expression tells me something entirely different. “We don’t have to go to the beach. I’m up for whatever you have in mind.”

She inhales deeply and slowly releases the breath. Uh oh. The foreshadowing inhale/exhale. That’s never a good sign with Vale. Difficult words always follow.

“Can you come with me to the office? There’s something we need to discuss.”

Vale’s demeanor is off. And she never asks me to come to the office to discuss anything. If she wants to talk, we talk. But she’s wearing her let’s get down to business face.

What is going on?

“O . . . K.”

She takes her place behind the desk as soon as we enter the office and wakes her computer from the sleep mode.

“Everything all right?” I ask the question but my gut already fears the answer.

“All is well, but I had an unexpected proposition today.” Vale removes her reading glasses from the top of her head and puts them on her nose as she strains to read her computer screen. “We need to go over a few things concerning your conditions.”

My conditions? Oh, shit.

A sheet of paper is sucked into the printer and rhythmically inked before jutting out onto the paper tray.

“Someone has expressed interest in taking you as his companion.”

How can that be? I haven’t attended any of the masquerade parties. And I’m not listed on the website. How would anyone know I’m a Duet? “I wasn’t aware that you’d officially announced my availability.”

“I made no announcement. B has known about you since you joined me three years ago.”

B. He’s the man who invested in Duets Foundation. Made all this possible. Aside from that, I don’t know much about him. Vale keeps her friends and her personal life separate from Duets, so the two never cross paths.

“I met with B for our quarterly business meeting earlier this week. He had a lot of questions concerning my prodigy. I thought he was curious about my investment in you. Turns out he wants to make a trade.”

Vale is business savvy. She wouldn’t be entertaining this idea unless it is beneficial for her. “What kind of trade?”

“He’ll clear my debt in exchange for you as his companion.” What?

Vale told me how much she owed this man. The amount was astronomical two years ago. There’s no way she has even made a dent in the remainder. He isn’t going to clear that kind of remaining balance for a six-month deal.

I’m going to be stuck with this man for a long time.

“We haven’t discussed your stipulations for the companionship in a while. Has anything changed?”

“No.” I’m too stunned to say anything else.

“He has some conditions as well but no worries. They’re very general. Nothing you won’t be happy to comply with.”

My first two years with Vale consisted of training me to become an elegant, articulate, engaging woman for my future companion. After that, there’s been no more mention of it. Not once. Vale made me her assistant. I’ve been helping her train the new Duets. I thought becoming someone’s long-term companion was off the table. I thought I had proven I could be so much more for Vale. For this company. At least, I hoped.

I was wrong. Was I not what she wanted after all?

“You’ll be meeting him tomorrow night at his house.”

“Oh.” One word. It’s still all I can manage to choke out around the pumping heart that has leaped into my throat.

Vale rescued me off the streets. Can’t lie. Our relationship had a rocky beginning. It took every minute of that first year but she eventually made me see my own self-worth. Helped me down the path to find the self-respect I’d been lacking my entire life. Showed me how to love myself. Gave me the skills and confidence I lacked so I could become a desirable, respectable woman any man would be proud to have on his arm.

Our relationship has been ever changing. Once student, then friend, and now confidant. She knows everything about my life.

Every. Filthy. Thing.

I’ve never been so close to anyone in my entire life. Maybe that’s why I’m so shocked this companion offer is on the table, completely coming out of the blue. Guess I thought she’d want to keep me around.

There’s no denying it. Vale gave me the world and now it’s time for me to do my part. Repay her. Show her gratitude for her kindness.

“Tell me about B.”

“His name is Bastien Pascal. He’s a good man. Kind. Gentle. No need for you to worry; he’ll treat you right.”

“You know him well?”

“Very well. He’s my best friend. I’ve known him going on thirty-four years.” Oh, God. He must be ancient if she met him that long ago.

I was trained for this—a connection with a man. Successful. Older. Unattractive. Those expectations have been drilled into my head since day one.

I thought I was prepared. But I’m not.

Sleeping on the streets used to terrify me. And I swear this is no less frightening.

“You’re joining Bastien at his house tomorrow night for dinner at seven. Wear the black Dolce & Gabbana lace dress with your red Louboutins. The ones that tie in bows around the ankles. He’ll like those.”

Oh, God. She wants him to find me desirable. That’s the only reason she would ask me to wear something so sexy.

“Are you going with me?” Please, please, please say yes. I’ll be a nervous wreck if you don’t.

“No. This time is for you and Bastien to get acquainted.”

I look down because I don’t want Vale to see the tears pooling in my eyes. “He understands that I have to approve of the companionship or it’s a no-go?”

“Yes.”

“And also that I won’t have sex with him?”

“He knows.”

This man’s willing to clear Vale’s huge debt in exchange for a sexless companionship with me? Doesn’t seem likely. Has to be old and impotent. Or gay? Maybe he’s gay. It’s the only explanation. And that’s who I’m going to be stuck with for only God knows how long.

I always thought in the back of my mind that the no-sex rule would prevent any man from wanting to buy my companionship. It was sort of my default way of getting out of this.

Epic fail.

I don’t want to do this.

I don’t want to leave the life I have here with Vale.

But it’s my duty.

This is what I promised her. And I won’t let her down. Not after everything she’s done for me.

Ten minutes ago I was ecstatic about the next four weeks. I was trying to choose the tropical beach where I’d spend winter break working on my tan. Now, I’m sick with worry over the next six to twelve months of my life. Maybe longer depending on the arrangement between Vale and this man.

Congratulations, Agony. You’ve managed to worm your way back into my life.

***

I ring the doorbell at seven sharp—not one minute before, not one minute after. Vale says Bastien likes punctuality. Expects it. Demands it. And I want to start out on the right foot with him.

I’m promptly greeted at the door by the steward—a very handsome steward. “Hello. I’m Rose Middleton. Mr. Pascal is expecting me.”

The man offers his hand for a shake. “I’m Bastien. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

This is Vale’s best friend, B? Bastien Pascal? My potential companion? This man isn’t old. Sure, he’s obviously older than me but not ancient as I had imagined.

He’s tall and fit. Very fit. Not the out of shape, humped-over grandfatherly figure I was picturing in my head. He’s . . . not anything like what I imagined. And it’s a very pleasant surprise.

Oh, God. I snap back into the present and realize I’m still holding his hand, staring at his face, and I’ve yet to reply. I must look like a total fool. Not the first impression I wanted to make.

I sort of feel like I should apologize but there is no tactful way of telling him I’m dumbfounded because he isn’t the ogre I had imagined in my mind.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Pascal.”

“Please, call me Bastien.” He steps back and opens the door widely. “Come in.”

I step into the posh home, but I’m too captivated by its owner to take notice of my surroundings. I don’t get it. Why in the world would this man need a paid companion? I’d expect women to be flocking to him.

Then I remember why most of our clients use our services. They’re busy businessman. Too engaged in their jobs to have time for dating. That must be it; there’s no way this man would have a hard time finding a woman, or man, interested in him.

“May I take your coat?”

“Uh . . . yes. Thank you.”

I turn and shrug out of my jacket as Bastien takes it from my shoulders. I’m suddenly very thankful to be wearing this sexy and elegant dress.

“A little colder out there tonight than I expected,” he says.

He’s bringing up the weather. Always a safe and neutral topic for discussion.

“Yes. I heard the weatherman say that we could expect it to drop into the low forties after midnight.” Not freezing, but all of those poor people on the streets tonight will be so cold. I still haven’t forgotten what a low forties night in New Orleans feels like.

Bastien hangs my coat on a rack in the foyer. “Dinner is ready, but I thought we might take a few minutes to talk before we jump straight into eating.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” My stomach is nervous. So queasy. I don’t feel it’s wise to put anything in my mouth right now.

Bastien leads me into the living room, and I’m surprised to see an enormous flat-screen over the fireplace. I expected something much grander in a house like this. Maybe a priceless painting by a famous artist or something of that nature. But then I remember that this is a bachelor pad.

He gestures toward the television. “Saints and Buccaneers are playing tonight. You a fan?”

Vale made sure I could discuss sports with clients, at least on a minimal level, but I’ve never sat down and watched an entire football game. It’s not something I understand. “I’ve never had much interest.”

“Football is my sport. Huge fan of the Saints and LSU Tigers.”

The girls in my classes talk about going to games but I’m under the impression it’s all about dressing up, being social, and being seen. “I go to Tulane but I’ve never been to any of the football games.”

“Tulane is part of the AAC. I mostly follow SEC and NFL.”

Vale never went into much detail about the different types so I’m a little lost. “I know about the NFL but I’m not familiar with the differences between AAC and SEC.”

“AAC and SEC are different college football leagues. Think of it like this: the AAC is made up of the little brother teams of the SEC.”

I get it. It’s like a tier. “Then the NFL must be the dad teams?”

He chuckles. “I guess you’re right.”

I sit in the middle of the sofa and smile when my eyes meet Bastien’s. Such a rich brown. Like warm chocolate. So different from my hazel ones, always dependent upon the color I’m wearing before they decide which color they’ll be.

He has kind eyes.

I’m convinced that you can see into the soul of a person through his or her eyes. Thoughts. Intent. Opinion. The simplicity in their expression tells a story. It says more than any words they could possibly speak.

I note the lines around the corners of his eyes, the creases around his mouth beneath his facial scruff, and the furrows across his forehead. He smiles often, and when he does, it spreads over his entire face.

I’ve decided Bastien is a happy person.

Happy people are nice.

“Do you know much about me?” he asks.

“You’re best friends with Vale. You financed Duets. And you’re going to clear her debt if I become your companion.” I shrug. “That’s all she told me.”

“I asked her to only tell you the necessities. I wanted a clean slate without expectations on your part.”

I wondered why Vale was being so vague about her best friend. Guess I have my answer now.

“Honestly, not knowing made it worse. I’ve imagined some pretty horrid things since she told me about our meeting.”

“I’m a little afraid to ask what those were.”

I grin and lower my head. I can’t look at him when I make my confession. “I thought you’d be old and gray and saggy.”

Bastien chuckles. “Well, I’m not as young as you. And I did find a few gray strays recently. But I’m not saggy yet.”

I’m pretty sure saggy will not be a part of his physical description any time soon based on the way that Givenchy sweater stretches across his chest and upper arms.

“Do you mind me asking how old you are?”

“I’ll be thirty-six next month.” Thirteen years older than me. He could pass for younger.

He grins. “I hope thirty-six is okay.”

Thirty-six completely works for me. “Absolutely. It’s so much younger than I expected.” By almost half.

“Not in dentures or diapers yet. That’s a plus in this companionship thing, right?”

I don’t know if he’s cracking jokes to ease the tension or if he’s like this all the time. Either way, I like it. “Yeah. Dentures and diapers put a huge damper on the companionship thing.”

“How old are you?”

Odd. I would have expected Vale to have told him that already. “I’ll be twenty-three next month.”

He groans beneath his breath. “I didn’t know you were so young.”

“Thirteen isn’t a huge age gap.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “Twenty-three is very young. I don’t think I had even figured out who I was at that age.” Probably not since men tend to mature much slower than women.

“Why would you think I was older?”

“All of the things V told me about you sounded very mature.”

“That’s because I am mature. My circumstances forced me to grow up very quickly.”

I immediately want to take back those words as soon as they leave my mouth. This isn’t about my past, but I can’t help but wonder if Vale told him how she found me. Desperate. Destitute. Defeated.

“I’d very much like you to tell me about that sometime. Later—when you feel you can trust me enough to go to that place.” He shrugs. “I mean, if this works out.”

He knows. Maybe not the full extent but he at least guesses that there’s something dark in my past. The fact that I work for Vale is proof enough that things weren’t great in my life.

“We’ll see.”

“I can accept that. For now. Hungry?”

I was nervous all day and didn’t have an appetite. But I’m better now. “Yes.”

How unexpected. Bastien, a complete stranger, has somehow managed to put me at ease. What is it about him I find comforting? His kind eyes and expressions? His soft voice? His dry sense of humor that reminds me of Vale? I’m sure it’s all those things combined, but the biggest factor is knowing he’s Vale’s best friend. I have nothing to fear with him.

It’s nice to meet him and not feel the need to be on the defensive. It’s exhausting to constantly watch and question every move a man makes. Always worried you aren’t going to pick up on some kind of signal that he means you harm. It’s why I’ve been so careful to not put myself in those kinds of situations again.

“I’m glad you’re hungry. I cooked all day.”

“Really?” He actually took the time to prepare a meal for me? Him. Not the cook on his payroll. And not a box of carryout from a restaurant.

“Well, I made the roux about six hours ago. I haven’t been slaving away over the stove, but the gumbo’s been on a low simmer since a little after twelve. Does that qualify as cooking all day?”

He went out of his way to prepare a home-cooked meal for me. Of course it qualifies. In fact, it also qualifies for placement at the top of the list labeled things never done for me.

“We’ll let it count.” I keep my delight in check. Don’t want him to think I’m silly in addition to being young.

Bastien places a portion of rice in a bowl and covers it with a generous scoop of gumbo. “Hope you’re not allergic to shellfish.”

“Nope. And even if I were, I’d probably still eat this. It smells delicious.”

“This was my mom’s family recipe passed down by her mother and her mother before her.” He said was. Past tense.

“Authentic Cajun cuisine.”

“One hundred percent.”

He doesn’t have a New Orleans accent. He sounds like the people who live west of here. “Your accent and name are sort of a dead giveaway. Very French Acadian.”

“Bastien Auguste Pascal. As you can tell, my parents were very proud of our Acadian roots.” Past tense again.

“As they should have been.” His name has a beautiful cadence. I love the way it sounds coming from his mouth. “I like it very much. What were your parents’ names?”

“Marie-Grace and Jean-Philippe.”

Classic Acadian. “Love those names. Both so strong.”

“Rose Middleton is a nice name as well.”

I don’t like it. Rose always sounded so old and bland compared to names like Brittany and Katelyn. “Rose is dull and boring. And Middleton doesn’t have any kind of ancestral history behind it like your name.”

“Prince William married a Middleton.”

The branches on my Middleton family tree are bare, broken. Some shamefully overlapping. “Nice point but I’m no relation to Kate, I assure you.”

“Where do you come from?”

Careful, Rose. Say nothing that will point a finger in the direction of your filthy past. “About a hundred miles east of here.”

“Mississippi coast?”

“Yeah. Little Podunk town in the middle of nowhere.” Keep it general. Nonspecific.

“Is that where your family lives?”

Those people who bred me aren’t my relatives. “Vale is my only family.”

“We have that in common. She’s my family, too.”

We have Vale in common yet we know nothing about each other. I understand her keeping her business and personal life separate but why has she never allowed us to meet? It’s easy to see how important Bastien is to her. And I’m fairly certain she considers me an important person in her life as well.

“How did you come to know Vale?”

“Her mother became our housekeeper when I was two and she was seven.” Bastien grins. “That kid treated me like one of her baby dolls. She toted me around on her hip until I was four. We grew up together in this very house.”

I wouldn’t have pegged Vale for the kid of a housekeeper. I pictured her being a posh, pampered princess.

“Vale told me she met you almost thirty-four years ago and I didn’t consider that you’d have only been two at the time. That’s one reason I thought you’d be so much older.”

“I asked her to not tell you anything about me, but I didn’t expect her to follow my wishes.” Damn. His smile when he laughs is beguiling.

There was no mention of a smile that would soften my hardened heart.

There was no mention of dark hair I’d want to touch or captivating rich mahogany eyes I could get lost in.

There was no mention of sexy scruff on his face.

I’ve distanced myself from men. Never even looked at one from afar and toyed with the idea of wanting him. Vale may have prepared me for a man three times my age. Potbellied. Hunched over.

But she in no way prepared me for Bastien Pascal.

“I’m glad you knew very little about me. I think it’s important that we spend time with each other and decide without preconceived notions whether being together is right for us.” Bastien grins and the lines around his eyes and mouth deepen. “Is that an okay term to use? Being together? Because that’s what our companionship equates to in my book.”

I like that he’s asking permission to label us. “Living together. Spending time together. Having a good time together. But never together intimately.” I can’t bring myself to say the word sexually to him. It would be too uncomfortable. And at this point, even intimately feels like a huge stretch based on the heat I feel forming in my cheeks.

“Understood.” Good. I needed to hear him say that he gets it. I feel so much better about this situation now. “You don’t have to worry, Rose. The thirteen-year age gap doesn’t do it for me. I wouldn’t feel right chasing after a twenty-three-year-old girl.”

Wait. What?

Girl? He sees me as a girl?

I’m taken aback by his words. I thought a single, thirty-six-year-old man like Bastien—who’s still very much in his prime—would be interested in trying to meet his sexual needs with a woman in her early twenties. Especially when she’ll be his companion and living under the same roof.

I’m certain Bastien has been somewhat educated about the companionship process, but all Duets know that clients come into the relationship with hopes that something sexual will evolve. It’s just a fact. So it’s a blow to my self-esteem when I hear him say I don’t do it for him.

Is something wrong with him?

Does he see something wrong with me?

I’ve been adamant from the beginning that I wouldn’t have a physical relationship with any man I’m paired with during this process. I’m happy to hear Bastien say he understands and respects my wishes.

But I’m sort of stunned by his blatant disinterest.

I’ve worked so hard to become the beautiful, desirable, irresistible woman that men want. And this man doesn’t want me. At all.

Damn, if my pride isn’t wounded. Yep, wounded.

Didn’t see that coming.

I don’t think I want to be with someone who makes me feel this way about myself. “Maybe we aren’t right for each other. I’m sure Vale would be happy to make a connection between you and a different Duet, maybe one you find attractive.”

“I didn’t say I don’t find you attractive.”

I hate to point out the obvious. It’s so belittling. Makes me feel like I’ve returned to the land of self-doubt. But I won’t go back there. I can’t. I fought too hard to leave that place.

I lift my chin slightly. Maybe a little higher than I should but I won’t let him know he’s hurt my feelings. “You said I don’t do it for you. I see no need to continue forward.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re stunning. Absolutely beautiful. And young. Too young for me to think of in an intimate way. Which is perfect. I don’t want a companionship with a woman that will lead to romantic feelings. That would cause complications that don’t interest me. I’m in this for a platonic relationship. Friendship. That’s all. And you’re the perfect one for me. I’m very hopeful you’ll agree to this arrangement.”

You’re stunning. Absolutely beautiful. And young. Too young for me to think of in an intimate way.

He doesn’t want me that way. I should be relieved.

But I’m not. No, not even a little.

“You’re not eating.” Can’t. I’m queasy again.

I smile to hide my disappointment and push my spoon through the bowl of gumbo. “Waiting for it to cool so I don’t get burned.”

I steal a glance at Bastien Pascal and ponder what life with him will be like. I imagine lots of smiles and laughter.

I bring my spoon to my mouth for the first bite of gumbo, and despite waiting, it still burns.

Just like Bastien Pascal will do.

This man will burn me.

I already know it.

I feel it deep in my core.

And yet I already know that my answer will be yes.

CHAPTER SIX

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

I’ve hardly slept since meeting Rose. I’m fine during the day when I’m busy at work but she invades my head when I’m home in the evenings. The worst is when I’m in my bed alone in the dark. But not the way one would suspect.

I’m tormented by fear, concern, worry.

Worried she’s too young for this relationship.

Worried she’s too tenderhearted and could be damaged by what will happen after I send her away.

Worried she’s actually perfect for this relationship.

It’s not too late. She hasn’t said yes yet. There’s still time to end this before it begins.

But I don’t want to call it off.

I don’t want to be alone.

The last several months of my life have been tortured by the fear of the unknown. My future is both certain and uncertain at the same time.

It’s definite that my health is going to decline, but the rate at which that happens is unpredictable. Worst-case, I could have six good months left before my muscles give out on me. Best-case scenario, I top out at a few years. No doctor can predict how quickly my body is going to deteriorate.

I’m afraid, but not of dying. I’m terrified of not living life to the fullest while I still have air in my lungs and strength in my body. I don’t want to spend my final healthy days alone.

Am I wrong for wanting a companion by my side until the end comes? Someone I can share good times with while they’re still good?

I thought I knew the answer but I wrestle with that question when I see Rose Middleton’s face in my mind. So young. So sweet. So pure.

“Well?” Vale’s voice yanks me out of that faraway place where I was inside my head arguing with myself.

“Well what?”

“You know what.” Vale playfully kicks me beneath the table. “Tell me what you think of her.”

“Rose is . . . everything you promised and more.” So much more.

“You think she could be what you’re looking for in a companion?”

I didn’t feel like I was talking to a twenty-two-year-old, but I can’t shake the concern I have about her age. “A bit younger than I expected.”

“I would have paired you with someone older had I been given the opportunity but you told me she was the one you wanted. In fact, you were very adamant about it.”

I insisted on having Rose because she’d been trained for three years. I knew she would be prepared to deliver what I wanted. But I had no idea Vale had brought her on as a Duet while she was nineteen. Still a kid.

“I know I was persistent but . . . I just didn’t anticipate her being thirteen years younger than me.”

“I don’t see why her age is a problem. You’re not wanting a sexual partner, although only God knows why. You want someone who will meet your intellectual and playful needs. She’ll be a good fit. But, I won’t push her on you.”

I don’t like the thought of ending the possibility of Rose before it begins. “I really liked her. We clicked. Or at least I think we did.”

“You’re not imagining it. She felt it too.”

It’s absurd how happy that makes me. And my attempt to stop the goofy-ass grin from spreading across my face is unsuccessful. “She liked me?”

“Very much. Your warm smile and kind eyes won her over.” Vale rolls her eyes. “That and your kooky sense of humor.”

“I figured a girl her age would think I was cheesy.”

“Oh, you are very cheesy but I guess she likes that kind of thing since she wants to move forward with the companionship.”

She made that decision quickly. I only met her last night.

“I was worried she would decline my proposition.” Or maybe I hoped she would so I don’t drag her into my hell.

“You’re a handsome guy with a smoking-hot body. I’m sure she feels lucky to be paired with you.”

I guess I am a better alternative than some old ass-grabber. That’s not saying a whole lot for me.

“I’m almost thirty-six. She should be with a stud her age.” Who doesn’t have a degenerative muscle disease.

“Studs her age are years away from having their shit together. Years away from having even a sliver of the success you have, or close to being the person you are. They’d show her what lifestyle on a budget looks like. You’ll show her the luxurious things in life, not that she even remotely expects that, to be honest. There’s no comparison. None. Trust me. Rose knows that. She didn’t begrudgingly agree. She’s happy with this decision.”

Rose seemed very okay with me at our meeting last night. I thought her interest and comfort level might be an act. Maybe not. She could actually be into this.

“How does the arrangement work?”

“We need to go over each of your boundaries and expectations—every one of them, all the way down to things as frivolous as agreeing to never take a shit in front of her.” Vale smiles as she lifts a brow. “I use that as an example because that problem came up once.” She shakes her head. “That man was one exceptionally nasty bastard. I had to blacklist him.”

I chuckle about that one. “I can say with one hundred percent confidence that I will never take a shit in front of her.”

“It’s a tedious process but we need to meet so we can discuss the terms. I have to put something in writing so you’ll both have a hard copy if anything ever comes into question. Once you both agree to the terms, you’re set and she’ll move in with you.”

“Christmas is next week.”

“It’s up to you but I’m inclined to think it would be better if we expedited the process and got her into your house as soon as possible. Waiting until the new year doesn’t give you much time to adjust before she returns to school. Plus, I think it would be nice for you to spend the holidays together.”

Vale is always with her secret friend for the holidays. I’m happy she has someone but it always leaves me without the only person I consider family. I wouldn’t hate spending Christmas morning with someone besides myself. “I agree. We need plenty of time to acclimate to one another.”

And it’s probably not a bad idea if I take some extra days off to be with her during this transitional period.

“Rose is at home today. We could go ahead and have the agreement meeting when we leave here if you’re not busy.”

I have a meeting after lunch but Helen can move it. This is what’s important to me right now. “I can come over and do that.”

“Pairing the two people I love most in this world makes me profoundly happy.” Vale’s smile is broad and deep. She’s genuinely thrilled to bring Rose and me together. I bet she’s even hoping there will be some romantic sparks between us.

I’ve lied to my best friend. Sort of. There will come a point where I can’t hide the physical manifestation of my disease, and I’ll be forced to tell Vale about my plan. In many respects, I am glad she has Rose, because she will need her. More than she ever realized.

“I thought this connection thing was a great idea when you originally presented the concept behind Duets Foundation but I never imagined I’d be asking you to find a companion for me.”

“What I do works—and I’m thrilled to pair you with Rose—but I think it’s entirely unnecessary. There are plenty of women out there who would love nothing more than to be your bride.”

“I told you, Vale. I don’t want the complications that go along with a wife.” I say the words but they aren’t true. I very much wanted a life partner and family until I got my diagnosis.

“Okay. Then there are plenty of women out there who would love nothing more than to be your play pretty.”

I’ve had plenty of play pretties. They’re either in it for the money or the sex. That’s not what I’m looking for. “Not interested in the complications that go along with a play pretty either.”

“I have a hunch about how this will go.”

“You mean between Rose and me?”

“Of course.”

Vale looks absolutely giddy. “What’s your hunch?” I ask, already knowing what words will follow.

“You’re going to fall madly in love with each other.”

There are so many uncertainties in my life, but that’s not one of them. “I understand you love Rose and me, but that doesn’t mean we’re destined to love each other.”

I’m not fool enough to believe I won’t form an attachment to her. I don’t think that can be avoided but it can never become romantic.

“I’ve been doing this for a while. I’ve seen a lot of Duets and clients fall in love. It happens more often than you think.”

I almost think it might be easier if I told her the truth. “Sorry. Not happening in this case.”

“I guess we’ll see.” Nothing to see.

Dying and falling in love. The two just don’t go together.

***

“Okay, guys. This part is tedious and somewhat uncomfortable but trust me when I say that it will prevent a lot of problems later down the road.”

Vale pushes her reading glasses up her nose when they slip down for the third time in the last two minutes. Shit gets on my nerves. “When are you going to get some decent glasses that don’t constantly slide down your face?”

She lifts her eyes and glares at me over the thick black rims. “How ’bout you don’t worry about my glasses, okay?”

“Forgive me, Madame Vale.”

Rose giggles when I flash my uh-oh, I got in trouble expression. Vale’s eyes dart up and Rose’s face immediately transitions to pure professionalism. Until I wink at her and whisper, “You’d better stop it or you’re gonna get in trouble with the flesh-peddler too.”

This boundaries and expectations process is too serious. Everybody needs to lighten up.

“The hard copy of your companion agreement will include formal terminology, but we’ll use vernacular vocabulary for all intents and purposes during this meeting.”

This is V in Madame Vale mode. No humor. Only professional. “Yes ma’am.”

“You want Rose to live with you during the duration of the companionship, which remains undetermined at this time, and she has agreed.”

“Correct.”

“Where will she sleep?”

Where does Vale think she’s going to sleep? “The guest room.”

“She’s going to be a full-time resident in your house. Your home will be her home but her private living quarters need to suit her.”

“She’s welcome to do whatever she wants with the room. It’s hers.”

“Do you agree to a five-thousand-dollar allowance for her to change the room to her liking?”

I want Rose to feel comfortable in the space she calls her own. “You can hire a designer to come in and change the room any way you like. No budget.”

“Thank you. That’s very generous.” Her smile is so genuine, like she truly appreciates my offer. Not something I’ve often seen with the women in and out of my life.

Vale taps on her keyboard with the tips of her perfectly manicured nails. “Sleeping arrangements. Bastien, you plan to sleep in your bedroom and, Rose, you plan to sleep in yours?”

We voice our agreement at the same time.

“I recommend that you add a clause stating that those boundaries can be amended at your own discretion. I understand that today your intentions are to never share a bed but unexpected things happen when you spend nights under the same roof.”

I don’t want Rose to think I have any intentions other than the ones I’ve voiced. “I don’t think a clause will be necessary.”

Vale stops typing and looks at me. “The clause is necessary. Trust me.”

“Fine. Put it in there if you insist. But only if it’s okay with Rose.”

“A clause is fine with me.”

“You both say sex is a boundary you will not cross. That’s fine. We’ll list it as a hard limit for both of you, but I’m going to suggest you add a clause to that as well. Again, things happen when you spend night after night under the same roof.”

Rose has turned a bright shade of scarlet and won’t look at me. I feel horrid that Vale has embarrassed her and I immediately have the urge to put her at ease again. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“It’s discomfort now or later. I assure you it’s better to get all of this out in the open now.”

I understand Vale is being a professional, but she’s sort of pissing me off with her harsh words. She should be more considerate of Rose’s feelings.

I lean toward Rose so she knows my words are intended for her. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll never ask that of you. I promise.”

Vale chuckles. “No one implied you’d be the one asking.”

I open my mouth to give Vale hell but Rose interrupts. “Vale isn’t wrong. Unexpected things happen all the time in these arrangements. It makes sense for the clause to be there.”

“Whatever you think you need to do, just do it.” Doesn’t matter anyway. Nothing romantic or sexual is going to happen between us. She’s gorgeous, but there’s no room for it in my plan.

We spend the next hour going down a checklist of proposed circumstances—everything from hand holding to way more than even I’m comfortable discussing—and we either agree or disagree to the various acts. Everything gets a clause. Damn. Seems like it would be easier to just say we can do anything we want as long as we both agree to it.

“Lastly, the duration and termination of the companionship. Rose, you are entrusted to Bastien’s care for a period not to exceed thirty-six months. Bastien may terminate the relationship any time prior to the end of those three years. Should there be an early termination, Bastien respectfully asks that you honor his wishes and end your companionship relationship without question or discussion. He’s adamant about those conditions. Do you agree to comply?”

She hesitates a moment before answering, “I will leave whenever he wants.”

The hurt I hear in Rose’s voice and see in her eyes make me feel like shit.

“All right. I think we’ve covered everything,” Vale says.

She was right. This process was a pain in the ass, but I see where it’s a necessary one. I have no questions about Rose’s expectations and boundaries and I’m confident she understands mine.

I will get my wish . . . to not wither away alone.

CHAPTER SEVEN

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

I can’t believe I met Bastien on Saturday night, drew up a deeply personal companionship agreement with him on Sunday, and now I’m going to his house to meet with a designer about the new decor of my bedroom.

My bedroom.

In. His. House.

The last three days have been a whirlwind. I have no real way of knowing, but I think this companionship with Bastien Pascal is going to be good for me. It just feels right.

I love the warm, welcoming smile beneath Bastien’s facial scruff when he greets me at his front door. “Good morning, Miss Middleton.”

“Good morning, Mr. Pascal.”

He takes my coat as I shrug out of it, and I’m reminded of when he did the same thing three nights ago. “Want to hear something funny?”

“Always.” I don’t doubt that. I’m already attracted to his fun sense of humor.

“I thought you were the steward when you answered the door Friday night. You looked too young to be the Bastien Pascal I was expecting.” And far too handsome and physically fit.

“Guess we’re even since you were also younger than what I was expecting.”

Bastien was unsettled during our initial meeting when he learned how much younger I am than him. I don’t like that our age difference causes him unease but I think it’s only a matter of time before he becomes comfortable with it.

“When is the designer coming?”

“Already here. She’s upstairs looking at your room now.”

I had hoped we’d have a little time to ourselves before she arrived. “I can’t believe you were able to find a designer on such short notice. And so close to Christmas.”

“Everyone is available for the right price.” Just like I was.

“Thank you for allowing me to change my room.”

“Of course. It’s important to me that you’re happy here.”

I genuinely believe him. Other than Vale, I can’t really say anyone has ever wanted that for me. “I truly appreciate that.”

Bastien leads me up the grand, winding staircase. So typical for this nineteenth-century New Orleans home. Tons of character. I love it.

We stop at the last door at the end of the hallway. “I thought you’d like this guest room best; it’s the largest and has its own sitting area and en-suite.”

So far, Bastien is proving to be a very thoughtful, considerate man. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect. Thank you.”

A tall slender woman stops measuring windows when she notices us. “Good morning. I’m Michelle.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rose.”

“You’re our lucky girl getting the new decor?”

I very much feel like a lucky girl. “That’s me.”

“Lovely. Are you ready to go to work on making this room beautiful and exquisite?”

“Not sure how much help I’ll be but I’m excited about making this space my own.”

“No worries, sweets. We’ll look at paint and fabric swatches this morning. You’ll tell me what you like, and I’ll make the magic happen. When you see this room again, it will be completely transformed.”

After three years of residing with Vale, it’s hard for me to believe I’ll be living somewhere else. Her home has become my home. I’m going to miss her terribly, but I know Bastien will be fine with me seeing her anytime I like.

I’m going from one swanky home to an even fancier one. It’s still hard for me to believe sometimes after the first nineteen years of my life.

I grew up in a run-down house trailer. Didn’t even have a proper bed. I slept on a nasty mattress in the floor. I worried every night that the drooping ceiling tiles above me would collapse and the mice I heard scurrying around up there would land on my face.

I’ve come a long way from that trailer park.

“Give this girl anything she wants.”

This girl. Not this woman.

“I certainly will, Mr. Pascal.”

“Come with me so I can show you how to lockup when you go.”

I wonder if he expects a hug or kiss on the cheek when he leaves for work. Isn’t that part of being a companion? I’m not sure. We didn’t discuss that during our boundary and agreement meeting. I don’t guess it’s possible to cover every little detail. I’m sure some things grow organically as time goes by.

I don’t mind a hug or kiss on the cheek if that’s what he desires but I don’t think he’ll expect them today. I haven’t even moved in yet.

“There are a few leftover sweet potato biscuits in the top oven if you’ve not had breakfast. They’re pretty tasty with jelly.”

Sweet potato biscuits sound delicious. “Marie-Grace’s recipe?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll put on some pounds with all this good eating if I’m not careful.”

Bastien winks at me. I love when he does that. “You’re not living if you’re not enjoying good food.”

I get the impression that Bastien isn’t concerned with my outer appearance at all. On one hand, I love it. He’s interested in me, the person. Not the outer shell. But I worked hard to get to this place. Exercise. Diet. Braces and headgear. Broken jaw to repair my severe underbite. Cosmetics. Hair products. It’s not easy when you start where I did.

It took a long time before I could look myself in the mirror and repeat Vale’s words from day one. Only three years ago, but it feels like a lifetime. An incredible, unimaginable, remarkable lifetime. But I can now repeat those words. Rose Middleton is special and intelligent and beautiful and deserving of good things.

Most importantly, I now believe them.

He said he wants to show me how to lockup as though he’s expecting me to leave before he comes home. “Would you like me to stay so we can have dinner together?”

“I’m expecting a late work day. Not sure when I’ll be home.”

“I don’t mind waiting for you.” God, I sound eager to please. Too eager. He may not like that.

“It could be really late. You should probably plan on going to Vale’s after you and Michelle finish.”

Is it pathetic that I don’t mind waiting for him? Not because it’s my job. But because I want to.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

I follow Bastien to the keypad by the garage door. He demonstrates arming and disarming the alarm. “Zero one two four. Got it.”

People typically use numbers that are significant in their lives as a passcode. I’m betting that is the case here. “Is that your birthday? January twenty-fourth?”

“My brother’s. Mine is January sixteenth. You mentioned yours being next month as well?”

“The twenty-third.”

He didn’t mention a brother when we discussed his family the other night. “I thought you were an only child.”

“I had a younger brother. Bernard. He passed away ten years ago.”

Oh my goodness. Bastien has lost so many loved ones. Is that why he wants a loveless relationship? So he can share a connection without the commitment of love? “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

He retrieves his coat from the closet and slips it over his charcoal suit. “You never told me what kind of business you’re in.” I can’t believe I didn’t ask Vale.

“Commercial real estate.”

“You’re an agent?”

“Used to be. I own the agency now.”

Wow. He’s only thirty-six and owns the business. “That sounds like some serious determination.”

“I’m highly driven, but I didn’t start on the ground floor of Pascal Properties Incorporated, PPI. It was my father’s firm. He passed the torch to me when he died.”

“I’d love for you to tell me all about it sometime. At least, the business side of it. Not so much the real estate part.”

“You’d be interested in that?”

“Absolutely. I’m a business major. It’s my jam.”

“I didn’t know that.” He chuckles. “Looks like we have things in common, and a lot to learn about one another.”

“I think we do.”

It’s surprising. And exciting. “I look forward to talking business with you.”

“Me too.”

“Have a good day.” Bastien holds out a key for me. “Just lock up whenever you and Michelle are finished.”

He’s giving me a key to this place. My new home. Where I’ll live with my handsome, kind, thoughtful companion. Doesn’t seem real this is happening.

“When will I see you again?” Letting him walk out of here without nailing him down on some kind of plan doesn’t feel right.

“Michelle told me she’d be finished with your room late Wednesday. I’d really like it if you’d move in on Thursday.”

Three days. Feels too long. “I won’t see you again until then?”

“We’re losing two work days this week because of the holidays. Things are going to be crazy in the office so I’ll be staying late tonight, Tuesday, and Wednesday to get the work done.”

I’d be wise to not forget that Bastien is a successful, driven businessman. He’s always going to put work first. “Silly me. I didn’t consider your holiday work schedule.”

“I’ll hire movers to bring your things over on Thursday if that works for you.”

“Thursday is good.”

“Then it’s a plan. I will see you, Miss Middleton, in three days.”

These are my final days of freedom before I become Bastien’s live-in companion. Shouldn’t I be feeling some sort of doom instead of seeing a glow of light in the dark? Is it wrong to feel joy?

***

Bastien is handsome. Wealthy. Successful. Kind. Funny. He checks every box for what most women desire in a man. Yet, he is choosing to go through this process with a stranger. It doesn’t make sense to me. Something has to be wrong with him. And I want to know what it is.

“Has Bastien ever been married?”

Vale chuckles beneath her breath. Why is that funny? “No.”

“Ever been in any kind of committed relationship?”

“He’s not exactly a significant other kind of person. The most committed relationship he’s ever had was with a woman he was screwing around with off and on for five or six years. But I wouldn’t really call what they had a relationship. They used each other for sex. She was more of a trampy friend with benefits.”

I’m surprised by how much I don’t like hearing that. “He doesn’t sleep with her anymore?”

“Not after she decided she wanted to get married and have a family. Bastien wasn’t up for that so they called it quits. Sort of. She still works for him at PPI.”

“He was sleeping with one of his employees?” I’m surprised Bastien would do something like that. Even I know that’s a bad idea.

“I know. Totally stupid. I tried to tell him, but he enjoyed getting a piece of ass whenever it suited him. To top it off, she’s the daughter of one of his major business associates. Another terrible idea. Makes getting rid of her almost impossible unless he decides to sacrifice his relationship with her father.”

“He has contact with her?” This woman he screwed for so many years?

“Every day Monday through Friday. Her office is two doors down from his.”

“Seems like it would be awkward continuing to work for the boss you used to sleep with.” I wonder if she flirts with him. Wears sexy clothes to work.

“I think Wendy enjoys it. Immensely.” I can tell by the contempt in Vale’s voice she doesn’t think much of this woman.

“I bet her husband doesn’t enjoy it.”

“No. I suspect he didn’t, which may be the reason they’ve separated.”

“Do you think she wants to rekindle what she had with Bastien?”

“Oh, one hundred percent.”

He’s a single man. I doubt he’d say no if she offered to give him a little.

I’m not going to be in a sexual relationship with Bastien but living with him as his companion will be uncomfortable if he’s having this woman over for sex. “I wish I had known this before we made our agreement.”

“Why? It changes nothing between you and Bastien.”

“I disagree since my room is across the hall from his. I don’t want to listen to him having sex. That’s just weird.”

“Wendy and her husband have been separated for months. If he were interested in pursuing anything with her, he’d have already done it.”

How is Vale so sure he hasn’t?

“Why do you think Bastien wants a companion?”

“He says he wants someone to come home to after work and share conversations with over dinner with and accompany him when he travels.”

“That’s what he says. But you’re his best friend. What do you think?”

“Bastien was so different when his parents and Bernard were alive. They were really close knit. After they died, he sort of checked out of life and detached himself from people. Except me. We’re closer than we’ve ever been but it isn’t enough for him. He craves a true connection. He’s lonely and believes this is the only way to have a companion without the hassle of a girlfriend or wife.”

I understand detaching yourself from life and people. And I also understand being lonely. I was once in that place. Before Vale. Before college. Before forming close relationships with some of the other Duet girls.

A true connection is what Bastien wants. I can give that to him.

And perhaps I want to give that to him.

Because maybe, despite my relationship with Vale, college friends, and Duet girls, a true connection is what I’m really craving too.

CHAPTER EIGHT

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

I’m off work for four days. And Rose is finally moving in. Funny how I’ve felt like a kid waiting for Christmas these last few days while her room was being prepared.

But I’ll never tell her that.

I haven’t taken off this much time from work . . . ever. Even when I lost my parents and Bernard, I was back in the office the day after their funerals. But my thought process is different today than it was even a year ago. I need this time away from work to be with Rose. I think it’s crucial for setting this relationship on the right path.

Rose claps like an excited toddler. “I’m dying to see my bedroom. What do you think of it?”

Her suite is beautiful. Very plush and posh. Feminine and froufrou. All the girly things I think a woman’s bedroom should be. “Who cares what I think? I want to know what you think. Get up there and take a look.”

Rose jogs up the stairs ahead of me and I call out for her to wait before she enters her new bedroom. I want to see her face and how she reacts.

“You’re being sooo slow. Hurry up.”

I decrease my climb of the stairs to snail speed. “You mean hurry like this?”

“Oh, my God. You’ve gotta come on. I’m dying here.”

I sprint the rest of the way up the stairs to join her on the landing. “Close your eyes first.”

She groans like an impatient child as I step closer and cup my hands over her face. I feel her lashes batting against my palms. “No peeking.”

“Doesn’t matter if I try. I can’t see through your hands.”

“Turn left. Walk forward.”

I take simultaneous steps with her until we’re standing in the center of the room. “Okay. Ready?”

“Yes.”

I’m enjoying taunting her. “Sure?”

“What part of yes do you not understand?”

I guess I’ve tortured her long enough. “Surprise.”

I love the gasp from her chest. Her hanging mouth. Wide eyes. “Oh, Bastien. It’s . . . it’s . . .”

She can’t form the words for what she thinks but I understand exactly what she isn’t saying. Her reaction tells me everything I need to know. “Yes. I totally agree.”

Rose goes to the bed and runs her hand along the comforter before kicking off her shoes and falling across the top. “Oh, wow.” She closes her eyes and gestures for me to join her. “Come here. You have to lie on this.”

Lying on her bed with her feels . . . I don’t know. Wrong? “I’m good.”

“No. You’re not until you lie on this cloud from heaven. And then you’ll be good. Very good, in fact.”

I sit on the edge, kick off my shoes and lie beside her. “Yes. It’s a very nice bed.”

Rose points upward. “If I ever lie in here staring at the ceiling because I can’t sleep, I’ll have something beautiful to look at.”

She isn’t wrong. The vintage tin tiles overhead are lovely. Michelle did a wonderful job of restoring some of the original character to the house. “Very nineteenth century New Orleans.”

“I love it.” We turn to look at one another while we lie on our backs, and she smiles like an angel. “I love everything about this room. It’s so much more than I expected.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

She leans over and kisses the side of my face. Nothing romantic. It’s more like the way a sister would kiss her brother. “Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“I want to see the bathroom.” She darts across the room and squeals when she’s inside the en-suite. “Ooh, Bastien. Come here.”

Rose is sitting inside the tub looking like she’s been swallowed whole. She’s such a tiny little thing. “I can’t believe how huge this tub is. I’m going to soak in it every night.” She touches her collarbone and giggles like a little girl. Which makes me chuckle. “With bubbles up to here until I turn into a prune. It’s going to be great.”

Rose makes me smile. And laugh. I used to do both all the time but it feels like I haven’t had a reason to lately. Or for a long time if I’m being honest.

Contagious smiles. Infectious laughter. Happiness in this house again. Before it’s too late and I’m no longer able to experience any kind of joy.

And there it is. This. This is what I want this companion process to be about.

I think Rose is going to be perfect.

***

I thought hiring movers would make Rose’s relocation from Vale’s house to mine fast and easy. Wrong. The girl has a lot of stuff. And putting it all into its place is taking forever.

We worked at it all day yesterday and into the night. I had planned to cook dinner for her—sort of a celebration of our first night together. Instead, we ate pizza while we stood at the kitchen bar. Not what I had in mind.

She went into her room at ten last night and hasn’t been seen since. She worked hard yesterday. I’m certain she was exhausted when she went to bed but it’s almost noon. Half the day is already gone.

I don’t think she understands what a rare event these four days are for me. I never take off from work. Not even the weekend. Today’s an opportunity to spend a full day together, and I want to take advantage of that.

Would it be selfish to wake her because I want to spend time together? Yes. Definitely but I’m doing it anyway.

I tap my knuckles against her bedroom door. “Rose?”

No answer. I tap a little harder. “Rose? Are you up yet?”

“Coming.”

She cracks the door and peeks out as she combs her fingers through her hair. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry I slept this late. I promise this isn’t the norm for me.”

“I hated to wake you but I wanted to be sure everything is okay.” That’s not exactly truthful.

“Everything is fine. I stayed up too late working on my closet. I’m a little OCD about things being organized.” I can appreciate someone who likes order.

“It’s okay. Are you hungry?” I was planning to cook waffles this morning but it’s a little late for that. “I could make some lunch.”

“Lunch would be great. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll come down to help you.”

I’m looking at the contents of the fridge when Rose comes into the kitchen. “What do you feel like? Burger? Sandwich? Salad?”

“I could do any of that.”

I’m going to have heavy food this evening. “I should probably go with a salad.”

Rose giggles. “You think you should go with a salad?”

“I have a Christmas party this evening. Alcohol and heavy hors d'oeuvres. The food at those parties is always rich and greasy.”

“Will you be needing me to attend with you?” She sounds ready and eager in spite of the short notice.

“Not necessary. It’s just my company Christmas party. I throw one every year. It’s when I pass out the annual bonuses to my employees.”

“Oh.” Rose’s voice is flat. Is she disappointed I’m not asking her to go to the party with me? I think so. But I need her to understand why.

“I haven’t yet figured out what I’m going to tell the people in my life about who and what you are to me.” I’m a thirty-six-year-old man with a twenty-three-year-old woman living in my house. I know what people are going to assume. And say. I don’t like being the topic of gossip, especially among my employees.

“You don’t have to tell them anything about who and what I am to you. You can keep me on the down-low. They never have to know about me or even that I live with you. If that’s what you want.”

There’s no way to keep Rose a secret. It’s inevitable that someone will find out she is living here. And that’s when the rumors will start. “I’m not hiding you. I just need to figure out how I’m going to handle things.” And put out the fires this is going to spark.

Rose isn’t going to fit into Wendy’s scheme to get me back into her life. And bed.

Rose is going to elicit a pure shit fit out of Wendy but hopefully her perception about us will put a stop to her uninvited advances. I would welcome that.

Rose smiles and shrugs but her expression says something different. “It’s cool, Bastien. Whatever terms you want about this are fine. If that includes keeping my living arrangements on the down-low then I can do that. It’s really not a big deal.”

She moves to the sink with the plastic container of baby spinach. “I want to wash this; I’m not a fan of the way preservatives taste. Where’s your colander?”

She’s changing the subject. I don’t know her well enough to determine if it’s because she’s bothered by not being invited to the party or she’s actually cool with staying home. Home. My home is her home now. That’s going to take a little getting used to. But I embrace it.

“Lower cabinet to the left of the sink.”

My experience has been that women don’t do great jobs of hiding their hurt feelings. If I’ve upset her, it will come out in the way she interacts with me. That’s how Dad always knew when he had messed up with Mom.

“I assume your cloud from heaven slept well.”

“Oh my God, did it ever. It was fabulous. And probably one of the reasons I slept ’til noon.”

Maybe she isn’t mad at me. “What time do you usually wake up?”

“Five thirty-ish. Maybe six thirty if I studied late.”

Late-night studying. I remember those days well. And they sucked. I also remember skipping early morning classes because I was too hungover to get out of bed.

“What time is your first class?”

“I have an eight o’clock on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and a nine thirty on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I get up between five and six. Maybe we can talk business over coffee in the mornings.”

Rose stops washing the spinach and turns to look at me. “I would love that. But I have to warn you. My coffee ends up being like a dessert.”

“I take mine strong and black. But no worries. My maker brews single cups.”

She returns to her task of spinach washing. “Have you considered how much we have to learn about one another?”

“A little but the true realization didn’t hit me until this morning.” When I was pacing the floor because I didn’t know why Rose wouldn’t get out of bed.

“Let’s work on that. What is a peeve that gets on your nerves?”

“People who sleep until noon when I want them to get up and hang out with me.” I chuckle so she knows I’m kidding. Sort of.

She giggles. And I realize how much I like that I’m able to make her smile and laugh so easily. “Okay. Second biggest peeve.”

“Are we talking annoying ticks or bad habits in general?”

“Start with annoying ticks so I can avoid pissing you off.”

She’s probably going to think I’m irrational but she might as well know now. “I nearly lose my mind when people click the top of an ink pen over and over. I once fired someone for that. But in my defense, I did warn him multiple times.” And I didn’t feel bad; he was a terrible agent anyway.

“Oh, God. That sound is awful. It makes my top-ten peeves. I hate gum smacking but I really hate those multiple little bubbles that pop while people chew. I want to claw someone’s eyeballs out when I hear that annoying sound.”

I’d probably fire someone over that one too. “I hate when people make that mucus-sucking sound in their sinuses.”

Rose makes a gagging face. “That is one of the most disgusting sounds ever. Why do they make that noise in front of people? Go to the bathroom and take care of that. I don’t want to hear you suck and swallow your snot.”

Surprising how much you can find out about someone by discussing peeves. This is going to be fun. Rose and I are neurotic about a lot of the same things.

“We didn’t decide what kind of salad we were having.”

I only have one way I make spinach salad. “I usually do strawberries, apples, pecans, and feta on mine.”

“That sounds good. With vinaigrette dressing?”

“Yes. I have a nice raspberry one.”

“Raspberry vinaigrette is my favorite.”

“Mine too.”

Rose and I are going to be eating most meals together. I really need to learn her food preferences. “I have to make a grocery store run tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?”

“You do your own grocery shopping?”

“Who would do it for me?”

“I don’t know. You seem so busy with PPI. I guess I thought you’d have hired help to run errands like that.”

I guess most single men with my financial standing would. But they probably don’t cook either. “I prefer to buy my own ingredients.”

“Do you cook a lot?”

“Yeah. Dining out has never really been my thing.”

“Vale sent me to a few cooking classes but with college and Duet training, there wasn’t a lot of time to learn very much. Only the bare basics. She didn’t see a lot of value in me learning since her intention was to connect me with a man who was wealthy enough to have a personal chef on staff.”

I hope Rose doesn’t think Vale has placed her with a nickel shooter. “You do realize I’m wealthy enough to have a personal chef if I want one?”

She shrugs. “I assume you’re wealthy because of the loan you gave Vale, but honestly, I’ve not really given your bank account a lot of thought.” Unusual. The women I’m accustomed to interacting with give my bank account entirely too much thought. Exhibit A: Wendy. Looking back now, I believe she wanted to become Mrs. Pascal. And half owner of PPI. I’m pretty sure the whole marriage and babies thing was a bluff to get me to marry her. All she gained from that little stunt was a husband she never really wanted.

Rose acts as though she’s unconcerned with money but she’s a business major. She has to like money to some degree. “Are you satisfied with the monthly allowance I’m giving you?”

“It’s very generous. Too generous, considering you’ve taken over my tuition and school expenses. Not to mention you’re housing, feeding, and clothing me.”

Five thousand dollars a month is nothing when you consider the time she’s giving me. If you break down the money divided by the number of hours in a month, she isn’t even earning minimum wage. Vale assured me the allowance was enough in combination with her expenses at Tulane but maybe it’s not. Perhaps I should raise it.

“I have an idea. When Vale throws her masquerade parties to introduce Duets to potential clients, she has us do a two-minute speed dating session to learn the basics about the men. To see if we’re interested. Want to do it with me?”

A quick way to learn some basics about Rose? I’m in. “Sounds like a good idea. Who goes first?”

“I should since I have the suggested list memorized. Favorite color?”

“Wait. Are we timing it?”

“Sure.”

“Hold on.” I set the timer on my phone for two minutes and leave it on display for both of us to see. “Go.”

“Favorite color?”

“Toss-up between black and gold for the saints or purple and gold for the Tigers.”

“I should have known that. Favorite food?”

“Shrimp and grits. My mom’s recipe with mascarpone.”

“I knew it would be something Cajun. Favorite alcoholic drink?”

“Jack and Coke.”

Rose nods as though she approves. “Nice, masculine drink. Favorite place to visit.”

“Ireland. And stop saying favorite every time.”

“Okay.” She giggles. “Song?”

“‘Live Like You Were Dying’ by Tim McGraw.”

She makes a gagging face again. “I hate country music.”

I’m not much of a fan but that song does hit home for me these days.

“Movie?”

“The Hangover.”

“Oh, that is a great one. We have to talk about favorite scenes later. How long since your last serious relationship?”

Depends on what she considers serious so I’m not certain how to answer that question.

“Come on, Pascal. Time’s ticking away.”

“Uh . . . ten years, I guess.” Or never if it requires being in love.

“If you weren’t a businessman in commercial real estate, you would be a . . . ?”

“Chef.” I grin. “Or a stripper at one of the clubs on Bourbon. Another toss-up.”

“Ten years ago, how did you picture your life today?”

I don’t even have to think about that one—successful business. Beautiful wife. Two kids. Maybe a third on the way. The picturesque family.

The timer on my phone alarms us to the end of my two-minute questioning. I couldn’t be more relieved. I’m not sure I could bring myself to admit that I only have a portion of the life I wanted. And now it’s too late to make the rest happen.

I regret so many of my decisions now that I know I don’t have a long, healthy life ahead of me. I would have done things so much differently. Worked less. Found a woman to love instead of settling for meaningless sex. Started a family.

“Your turn. Ready?”

“Go for it.”

I like her questions. They were a good introduction. “Color?”

“Black.”

“Well, that’s a little depressing. I expected pink or something bright and cheery like that.” But I guess I should have known. She wears black a lot.

“Black was one of yours.”

She has me there. “True. Food?”

“Steak. Filet, cooked medium.” I didn’t expect a tiny little thing like her to name a red meat as her favorite food. This girl is just full of surprises.

I hesitate when I try to recall her questions.

“Alcoholic drink,” she prompts. “Prosecco.”

“Very girly. Place to visit?”

“Any beach with blue water and white sand where I can spend the day in the sun.” I bet she wears a skimpy bikini. She’s sure got the body for it.

“Song?”

“‘Drifters’ by Zaac Pick.”

“Never heard it.” But I plan to. “Movie?”

“The Notebook.” Figures she’d like a chick flick.

“How long since your last serious relationship?” I’m very glad she asked me this question because I’ve sort of been dying for some kind of explanation about her dating situation.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

Really?

Really?

She’s almost twenty-three. Stunning. Entertaining. How is that possible?

“Come on, Bastien. Time is running out. Next question.”

Next question? What was it?

Oh, yeah. Job. “If you weren’t planning a career in business and income didn’t matter, you would want to . . . ?”

“Be a social worker.” She grins. “Or a stripper on Bourbon. It’s a toss-up.”

“Ten years ago, how did you picture your life today?”

She hesitates a moment before answering. “I didn’t have a lot of encouragement or aspiration to be anything. Life wasn’t great for me at that point. Or at any point, really, until I met Vale.”

The timer alarms on my phone ending this round of probing. And for one of the first times in a long time, I want to know so much more about a woman.

Vale has been impressed with her progress over the years. In terms of confidentiality, she hasn’t shared much about how she found Rose.

It’s as if it’s a veiled secret, which feeds my intrigue. Who is she?

Why wasn’t her life great? She’s so clever and funny. Why did no one in her life inspire her to reach for the stars the way my family did?

And she’s never had a boyfriend? She’s a virgin? Or . . . let’s not go there.

Strangely, I feel relieved that her time and company belong to me now. I will inspire her and encourage her to be whatever she wants to be. Something tells me she deserves that.

CHAPTER NINE

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

Bastien cooked dinner for me before his party. Steak—and not just any steak. Prime-cut filet mignon cooked to perfection with sides of mascarpone mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus. Literally the best meal I’ve ever had.

It’s possible Bastien missed his true calling. The man can cook.

Every bite was delicious. And the gesture was really sweet. But I had to eat dinner alone. And now I’m sitting here by myself. I should have called one of the girls and made plans when I knew Bastien was leaving, but of course, it’s too late now.

It’s silly to be bothered that he didn’t ask me to go with him. It’s his company party. I wouldn’t have had anyone to talk to while he was busy being the boss. And my presence would have forced him to address who and what I am to him. Which I’m certain would have caused a lot of tongue wagging around his office. I’m betting Wendy would have been the main one.

Maybe she’s the reason he didn’t take me.

I’m guessing she wears a sexy dress tonight. And I bet she flirts. Will probably drink too much and try to sleep with him. I don’t guess it’s called trying if he goes along with it. And why wouldn’t he? He’s single. Horny, I’m sure, and he knows he’s not getting it from me.

It’s none of my business if Bastien gets hammered and screws every one of his employees tonight. I don’t know why I’m even sitting here thinking about it. Silly.

I wash and put away my dishes before seeking entertainment on the couch in front of the TV. I flip through channel after channel but my only choices two days before Christmas are holiday movies.

I’m on my third show when Bastien comes home. Almost midnight. Must have been one heck of a party to have lasted six hours. Again, not my business.

“You’re still up?”

“It’s hard to go to bed early when you slept ’til noon.”

“Understandable.”

“Plus I fell into The Hallmark Channel trap. I was going to watch one Christmas movie but one turned into two and then two turned into three. And every one of them were totally predictable. I’m already certain that this man who hates Christmas and this woman who adores it are going to fall in love, and she’s going to convert him into loving the holidays. They’ll probably take over as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. I know this and yet I can’t stop watching. These stupid, unsurprising movies are like crack cocaine.”

“I haven’t watched a Christmas movie in years.” Bastien removes his jacket and tosses it over the back of the chair before falling into it. The sound he makes leads me to think it may have been a long night for him. “Catch me up.”

“I just did.”

“Right. I guess you did.” He chuckles and kicks out of his shoes before propping them on the coffee table.

“How’d the party go?”

“Music was good. Food was good. Drinks were great. PPI had a good year so bonuses were generous. Everyone was happy.” I spot a smear of red lipstick on Bastien’s white collar and I’m pretty sure I can guess the names of two people who ended up a little happier than the rest.

“I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I thought about you after I got to the party. I felt really bad about leaving you here alone. I should have taken you with me.”

I’m guessing he wouldn’t have gotten that lipstick smear on his collar if he’d taken me with him.

“You would have been forced to explain me. You’re not ready to do that.”

“I had no way of knowing it before the party but after I got there, I realized that I wanted you with me, Rose. You’re not going anywhere so there’s no reason to put off introducing you to the people in my life.”

Is it wrong for me to like that he doesn’t plan on keeping me a secret? “What will you tell people about me?”

“I don’t want to lie about our relationship, but at the same time I don’t want to be completely forthcoming and tell them I traded a two-million-dollar debt so you’d agree to be my companion.”

Oh my God. I had no idea Vale’s remaining debt was two million dollars.

Why would Bastien do that?

Why would he give up that kind of money for me?

“We live together. That’s what I’m telling people. What they do with that information is up to them.”

“They’re going to assume that you’re my sugar daddy. And that we’re having sex.”

“I’m okay with that if it’ll get Wendy off my back.”

Maybe that lipstick on his collar is evidence of a botched attempt at seducing Bastien rather than what I assumed.

Or maybe that’s what I hope.

I shouldn’t have thoughts like that. It’ll only lead to inappropriate ideas.

“It makes zero difference to me if your friends and employees think we’re hooking up. Tell Wendy I’m your nymphomaniac girlfriend if her advances are unwanted.”

The sound Bastien makes isn’t quite a laugh or cough. “Umm . . . I might do that.”

I don’t know why but I like the idea of Bastien telling this woman that about us. “Go for it. Tell her I throw sex on you all the time and you’re gettin’ more than you can handle.”

He chuckles. “You’re funny, Rose.”

“Life is too short to not laugh.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

***

I wake to Bastien’s soft, soothing voice slowly seeping into my sleeping mind while his hand gently shakes my shoulder. “Rose. Rose. Wake up.”

“Bash?” My eyes are heavy and I struggle to wake. My tongue hasn’t quite caught up so only a portion of his name slips through my lips.

“You’re okay. It was just a nightmare.”

It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory reliving itself through my subconscious. Just like it so often does.

There are always shadows in my dreams. A blurry monster I’m unable to remember. Yet incapable of forgetting. A foul fiend who touches me in darkness. A vile creature who causes me pain. A vicious assailant who brings me unimaginable shame.

Strands of wet hair are stuck to my face and neck. I’m a sweaty mess despite coolness in the room and the flimsy fabric of the cami and short sleepwear set I’m wearing.

I hoped so badly that my nightmares wouldn’t manifest this early in our relationship. I’m mortified. I’ve only been living with Bastien for a couple days, and I’m not ready to tell him about my past. I need more time.

“I’m so sorry I disturbed you.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about waking me.” He sits on the side of my bed and his body makes contact with my leg. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Lie. I’m completely shaken. I always am after the mysterious monster forces his way into my dreams.

“You didn’t seem fine just now. What was that all about?”

Oh, God. I must have been screaming if I was loud enough to wake him from a deep sleep in his bedroom across the hall.

I can’t deny this. It’s going to happen again. And again. It always does. I have to tell him so he’ll know what to expect.

“I have nightmares. Not every night but they happen a few times a week. I’ve been prescribed medication, but it only makes it harder for me to wake from the nightmare. It doesn’t stop the terror while I’m asleep. I feel really hungover the next day after taking it. It’s so bad that sometimes I can’t function—and I have to go to class—so I don’t take it.”

“You were thrashing around violently and screaming. If I’m being honest, it sort of scared the shit out of me.”

This is bad. Will he think this is going to be a problem and he needs to send me back to Vale? “I’m so sorry. I’ll take the medication so I don’t disturb you.”

“I’m not worried about being woken up. I’m concerned about your safety.”

“The thrashing and screaming is the worst of it. I’ve never hurt myself—or anyone else—during an episode.”

“What do you dream about that elicits that kind of reaction?”

I want to trust Bastien. I want to open up and feel the comfort that I think he can give me.

But I can’t. Not yet.

“I had a really bad childhood.” My words are barely more than a whisper. And all I can bring myself to say.

“More things I’d very much like you to share with me one day.”

“I want to. And I really hope I get to a place where I can.” But the storms in my head have driven me from the reach of everyone. I’ve built an ironclad protective shield around myself. I built it to never be penetrated and so far, it’s been successful. But what comes with my solitude is bittersweet. It gives me the ability to hold everyone in my life at a distance.

“I’m not leaving you by yourself after witnessing that episode.” Bastien gets up and walks around to the other side of the bed. He pulls the covers back and climbs in beside me. “I guess Vale was right about the clause thing. But don’t tell her. I can’t stand it when she gloats.”

I’ve never had a man in my bed.

“I won’t touch you, Rose. You have my word.”

He must sense the panic in me, and I despise that. There’s been no wrongdoing on his part. He’s been nothing but kind to me, and I don’t want him to believe I think otherwise. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“I just crawled into your bed without warning and without your permission. It was thoughtless, but I didn’t comprehend how much until I saw your expression. I’m the one who owes you the apology.”

He wants to stay with me tonight because he’s worried about my safety. I appreciate that in a way he can’t possibly imagine. No one, besides Vale, has ever looked out for me before.

“I can go if you prefer.”

No. Please. Please don’t leave me. “I want you to stay.”

“Then I will.”

“Can you sleep if I leave the lamp on?”

“I can sleep anywhere under any circumstances. Can you sleep if I snore? I gotta warn you. I’ve been told I’m pretty loud.”

I have no idea. I’ve never slept with a snorer. “I think so. Maybe. I guess we’ll see.”

***

Bastien wasn’t lying. The man snores. Loudly.

I was awake for hours after he came into my bed. But the loud noise he was making had nothing to do with my inability to fall asleep. Far too many thoughts were whirling around in my head.

I’m a proprietor of a sadness held so tightly it’s penetrated my very being. It has wrapped itself around my heart in the form of barbed vines, daring anyone to touch it. I’m buried chest deep in filth—the filth of all the things I’ve been through. I’m the captain, and my pain is forever my first mate.

I wake to find myself clinging to Bastien while being held by his strong arms. His touch is comforting. I feel safe in the arms of a man. This man. It’s a first for me.

Bastien is still sleeping. And snoring loudly—proof he is unaware of our entanglement. I’m glad. I want to savor this close encounter for a while longer before I pull away.

He’s unaware of this moment. I steal it like a thief, using this time to study his face and what I can see of his body without his knowledge.

His chest under my head is hard, as is his stomach beneath my hand. There’s sparse hair between his pec muscles but he has a small patch on his abdomen trailing down into the front of his pants.

I gently lift my head so I can see his face. Long, thick dark lashes rest against his lower lids. Strong, square jawline—covered in dark whiskers, and a few sparse silver here and there, a little thicker this morning than last night. A tiny dimple in the center of his chin. Full, pink lips with a deep cupid’s bow. Straight nose, slightly asymmetrical to the right side of his face. Hmm . . . I haven’t noticed that until now. I bet it’s been broken. Probably playing football.

Even in sleep, Bastien’s face doesn’t completely relax. His brow remains wrinkled, the shallow crowfeet around his eyes slightly crinkled.

Lines and all, he’s handsome.

And stirring.

I quickly pull away and roll onto my side, my back turned to him before he fully awakens. I don’t want that awkward moment of waking and coming face to face, forced to discuss what led him to come to my bed last night.

A few minutes later, there’s a brief dip in the mattress and then I hear the soft click of my bedroom door closing. He’s gone without a word.

I roll to my back and reach out to touch the spot where he was lying. Still warm. I scoot closer and press my nose into his pillow. Mmm. Woodsy. Earthy spice. Masculine. Bastien.

I like the warmth and smell that remains in my bed after Bastien’s departure. I shouldn’t . . . but I do. Very much.

Liking these things isn’t part of our agreement.

Bastien doesn’t want a romantic relationship. In fact, he’s very much against it, especially with someone my age. He said so. And I don’t want to ruin what we have. This companionship thing, so far, is working for me.

I like him. I feel safe with him. I think we can be very good friends.

CHAPTER TEN

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

I think I scared the hell out of Rose last night. No, there’s no question about it. I know I did.

She looked like a frightened animal ready to flee when I got into her bed. We’ve only known one another a short time and I know there are many things I don’t know about her. And she knows nothing about me. But her terror? Her tangible horror? It slayed me.

I had to grow up very quickly.

Vale is my only family.

I had a really bad childhood. Bad?

Bullshit. Horrific things have happened to Rose.

She hasn’t said so but I see slivers of despair in her eyes. Hear fragments of sadness in her voice.

She’s never had a boyfriend, and Vale says she doesn’t date. Ever. She was insistent there be no intimacy between us. She wakes in the middle of night in a cold sweat—screaming and begging for someone to stop touching her.

This girl has been abused in some way.

I will ensure she always feels safe under my care. Always safe in my house. Always safe around me. She needs to be certain I’ll never hurt her. Not physically, mentally, nor emotionally. Except, can I promise to never hurt her emotionally when I already know how this is going to end?

I’m finishing the sweet potato and pecan waffle batter when Rose comes into the kitchen. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Her voice is low and timid.

Rose says her nightmares are an ongoing problem. Last night won’t be an isolated incident, so this is going to happen again and I don’t want her to not reach out to me when it does.

“You look well rested. Guess my snoring wasn’t too bad.”

She grins. “You snore like a congested hyena.”

“That’s one I’ve not heard before. Slept okay despite the hyena with its congestion?”

“Yes, Bastien. I was fine. Thank you for coming in to wake me.”

“What happens when no one is there to wake you?”

“Good question. Can’t really be sure but I suspect I fight it in my sleep for as long as the nightmare lasts. Sometimes I wake up and feel like I never went to sleep because I’m so exhausted.”

“Seems a legit assumption based on what I saw last night.”

“Again, I’m really sorry I disturbed you.”

She lowers her head and my heart goes out to her. I don’t want her to feel bad about this. “Don’t you dare apologize. I’m just glad I was able to wake you and stop your terror.”

She looks up and tears are pooling in her lower lids. “You can’t begin to imagine what last night meant to me. I mean you coming to wake me. And staying.”

“I didn’t mind.” Nor did I mind the way Rose clung tightly to me during sleep. I’ve missed the feel of a woman next to me.

She wipes the tear that has slid down her cheek. “Thank you.”

I don’t want today to be about dwelling on the negatives. “Coffee pods are in the cabinet above the coffee maker. I stopped by the market last night and picked up some light brew for you. The midnight brews are mine. I don’t suggest you use those unless you want to grow some hair on your chest.”

She bites her bottom lip, unsuccessfully concealing a grin, and turns her back to me. Hiding her face. What’s that about?

Don’t guess it matters as long as this girl is smiling. No crying allowed in this house. Ever. Only smiles and laughter.

I don’t know why but seeing her try to camouflage her smile makes me grin like a big goofy fool. “You said you like your coffee to be a dessert so I bought creamer and syrup for you too. But I can run to the market if you’re missing what you need.”

She turns around and looks at me, shaking her head. “How did you become such a thoughtful man?”

I’ve never considered myself thoughtful. In fact, I’ve spent my entire adult life being a selfish prick, only interested in what made me happy and what made me feel good.

Somehow, in such a short amount of time, Rose is doing something to me. Something I can’t explain.

She makes me want to see her smile and hear her laughter.

She makes me want to do nice things for her.

She makes me want to . . . put her needs ahead of my own.

It’s not a feeling I’ve ever experienced before. I saw it between my parents but never felt the instinct in any relationships with the women I’ve dated.

Until now.

Until her.

And I don’t know what it means.

“Sugar bowl is above the coffee maker as well.”

Rose lines up her coffee products across the counter. “Ooh. I feel like a Starbucks barista. I have all the fixings for a great cup of coffee to go with my . . . waffles?”

“Not just any waffles. Sweet potato maple pecan waffles.”

“Mmm,” she moans. “More Marie-Grace recipes?”

“Of course.”

“Are all of your mom’s recipes over-the-top delicious?”

“Absolutely. I cook almost as good as her.”

“You need to teach me how to cook like you and Marie-Grace.”

“Sorry. These recipes are top secret. My mom would come back from the grave to haunt me if I ever gave away her recipes. They are intended for family only.”

And they’ll end here because I don’t have a wife and family to pass them on to. The end of a legacy.

Sobering.

“Fine. Then you’re not getting my recipe for . . . monkey bread.” She bursts into laughter. “Yeah. That’s right. No secret monkey bread recipe for you, sir.”

I like this. Rose pulling me out of my somber thoughts with her cheerful and careful chatter.

“Sorry to break it to you but everybody knows how to make that stuff. Nothing but canned biscuits, butter, brown sugar, white sugar, and cinnamon.”

She puts her hands on her hips and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t remind me of my feisty mother. “You think you’re so cuisinely talented, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do. Because I am. But I don’t think cuisinely is a real word.”

“I’m going to cook for you sometime and prove you’re not the only talented chef in this house.”

“What would you cook for me?”

She’s quiet and then her eyes widen. “Lasagna. I will cook you lasagna.” She lowers her voice. “As soon as I find a recipe for it.”

“I’ll think about giving you some cooking lessons.”

Her wide smile returns but this time she doesn’t hide it from me. “Really?”

“I said that I’ll think about it.”

“And you’ll teach me some of Marie-Grace’s recipes?”

“Maybe.” I shake my head. “No. Probably not.”

I pour batter into the maker for the first waffle. “These won’t take long to cook. You can get some plates out of the upper cabinet to the right of the dishwasher.”

“The first day you go back to work, I’m going to come into the kitchen and memorize the contents of the cabinets so you don’t have to keep telling me where everything is.”

No need to rush it. She’s not going anywhere. “Give yourself a little time and you’ll be able to find everything in the dark.”

“Syrup?”

“I’m warming some maple syrup in the small saucepan on the stovetop.”

“Good grief. Warmed maple syrup? You go all out, don’t you, sir?”

“I enjoy food that is done well.”

She takes a sip of her coffee and nods. “You’re going to spoil me.”

“I’m certainly going to try.”

“Do we have plans for tonight?”

I’m actually excited about Christmas for the first time in years. “Nothing but getting ready for Papa Noël to come.”

“My best friend, Genevieve, and her husband, Xavier, have invited me to join them for Bonfires on the Levee. They have reserved seating on some kind of tour. I agreed to go weeks ago when they bought the tickets.”

I was hoping we could spend the evening together but I’d never deprive her of being with her friends on Christmas Eve. “It’s a lot of fun. You absolutely should go.”

“They reserved four seats. I’d love it if you went with me.”

Bonfires on the Levee has always been in my blood and is yet another part of life I haven’t experienced since my parents and Bernard died. It hurts too much.

We were one of the many families burning a teepee on the levee, something I always enjoyed. No tour bus for the Pascal family. My mom would cook for two days and then fill a huge folding table with Cajun food. Our friends and family came by to visit and eat while we lit the way for Papa Noël and his eight reindeer.

I always thought I’d get to share it with my wife and children the way my parents did with Bernard and me. But since my diagnosis, it’s yet another dream I’ve had to forgo. Seeing Rose’s genuine delight and excitement provides a long-forgotten desire to go, to experience it with someone whose memories aren’t shadowed by loss, grief, and abandoned dreams.

“I would love to go. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Good. I’ll text Genevieve and let her know we’re coming.”

I guess the arrangement we have is a two-way street. “What will you tell your friend about me and who I am to you?”

“I won’t tell her anything. She already knows you negotiated a deal with Vale in exchange for me.”

“What?”

“Genevieve was a Duet for Vale until about a year ago.”

Then she and her husband haven’t been married long. “Does her husband know?”

“Of course. That’s how she met him. Xavier was her client.”

“I guess Vale wasn’t kidding when she said that unexpected things happen in these arrangements.”

“Nothing about Genevieve and Xavier was unexpected. She came home after their first date, and I knew she was going to marry him. Or die trying. The girl was completely obsessed. I thought she’d keel over before he booked another date with her. That was eighteen months ago and now they’re married and expecting their first child. A little boy due next month.”

“Then I guess Xavier wasn’t the typical older client.”

“He’s forty-four.” Shit. That’s pretty damn old to be having a kid.

“How old is Genevieve?”

“Twenty-four.”

Twenty years between them? He’s old enough to be her dad. Hell, he’s old enough to be his own kid’s grandfather. “You don’t think that’s crazy?”

“I did at first. I couldn’t wrap my head around why she’d want someone so much older. But then I saw them together and it . . . just works. They fit together better than any couple I’ve ever known. It’s not weird to me at all now.”

“How long have they been married?”

“Three months.” Rose grins. “Yeah. She was very knocked up when they got married.”

“Was the pregnancy planned?”

Rose’s brows lift. “I never asked but I’m under the impression they weren’t doing anything to prevent it.”

“So he didn’t freak out?”

“Oh, God no. Xavier is deliriously happy about their son.”

A baby at forty-four. Probably half of his life gone and he’s bringing a child into the world. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.

I’ll never have the chance to know what it feels like . . . at any age.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

I’m already awake when I hear the knock on my bedroom door. I prop on my elbows and pull the bedding up to cover my chest. “You can come in.”

Bastien opens the door and leans in, holding the doorframe. “Merry Christmas.” Oh that smile. What a lovely thing to wake to.

“Merry Christmas to you.”

“Papa Noël came.” I love hearing him say Papa Noël instead of Santa. And I love the enthusiasm I hear in his voice. Reminds me of an excited kid.

My guess is that Bastien has spent every Christmas of his life in this house. I bet he has some wonderful Christmas morning memories with his parents and Bernard.

“Hurry up and come downstairs.”

I’m not going down with bedhead and morning breath. “Give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

Bastien is wearing sleep pants and a T-shirt, obviously his sleepwear from last night. I hate to fully dress since I don’t know his plans for this morning—or if they even include me—so I opt to stick with pajamas as well. But with an added bra and robe.

I stop midway down the stairs when I see the many gifts that have magically appeared under the tree since we went to bed last night. “Looks like you weren’t kidding. Papa Noël really did come.”

Bastien stands by the sofa with an elegantly wrapped gift in his hand. “Sit here and I’ll pass your presents to you.”

There’s at least twenty gifts under the tree that weren’t there last night. And I suspect they’re all for me.

“I only have one gift for you.” He’s gone all out for me. I feel like such a Scrooge.

“I’m sure I’ll love it.”

I take the gift from Bastien and tear the paper away to reveal a Tiffany & Company gift box. I’ve shopped in the store with Vale on many occasions but never owned a piece from there.

I crack the red and gold leather box open to reveal a beautiful white gold and diamond pendant in the shape of an elaborate key. “This Tiffany key is considered a beacon of optimism and hope. The symbol of a bright future.”

How in the world could he possibly know something like this, a representation of a bright future, would mean so much to me? “It’s beautiful and perfect and so very thoughtful. Thank you.”

He takes the box from my hand and removes the necklace. “Turn around and lift your hair. I’ll fasten it for you.”

I do as he instructs and chills erupt over my body when his fingers brush my skin. He has to see them. I only hope he doesn’t misinterpret the reaction. I’m not accustomed to a man’s touch.

“Got it.”

I drop my hair and look down at the necklace hanging just above my breasts. I can’t resist touching it. “I love it so much. Thank you.”

I open one gift after another. Exquisite jewelry. Designer shoes, clothing, and handbags. It just keeps coming. Looks like a high-end department store vomited all over the living room. “You’ve spoiled me, Bastien. Thank you for everything.”

“I have one more gift for you. I saved the best for last.” I can’t imagine what in the world could be better than the things he’s already given me.

“Okay but wait.” I grab the gift I brought down with me. “I want you to open my present to you next.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s not much. Nothing like the gifts you’ve given me.” Bastien is accustomed to exquisite things. I didn’t have an exquisite budget, but I’m proud of the gift I bought him.

“I’m giving you these things because I want you to have them. Not because I expected anything in return.”

Bastien has been so happy this morning, his smile and laughter pure as he watched me open one gift after another. Such a keen giver. I strongly suspect this is the first Christmas morning he has shared with anyone in this house in years.

We’re similar in many ways. Both victims of awful tragedies—although very different kinds—but we’ve come out on the other side and moved forward in life.

I’m happy when Bastien smiles as he reads the engraving on the Cartier fountain pen. “May our companionship be filled with smiles and laughter.” He nods. “Love it, Rose. Really. It’s perfect.”

“Glad you like it.”

He rolls the pen back and forth between his index finger and thumb studying it. “I promise you many smiles and lots of laughter. I will carry this pen inside my jacket pocket so it can serve as a reminder of that promise.”

He’s taken my gift and turned it into something deep. There’s no mistaking this man has so much below his wealthy businessman facade. I hope I have the chance to uncover it.

A Duet never knows what’s in store for her when she’s paired with a man. There’s never a guarantee they’ll be compatible. But I have seen some amazing friendships develop between a Duet and her companion when they click.

I wasn’t sure it could happen for me. Sure, I was taught how to talk and interact with men but a true connection . . . that’s organic. Natural. It can’t be forced or faked.

I sense a connection with Bastien.

I want to feel it with him.

He goes to the tree and fetches the last remaining gift. “During our time together—whether it’s three months or three years—I’m going to lavish you with expensive presents. But in the end, only gifts from the heart will matter and be remembered.” Bastien holds out a box wrapped in old-fashioned Christmas print paper. No doubt about it. This didn’t come from a fancy department store. He wrapped it himself.

“This one . . . it matters.”

He’s just given me a ton of luxury and high-end gifts but something tells me I’m going to love this one far more than the others.

I tear the paper away to reveal a once white—now yellow with age—box with much wear and tear on the corners. And I’m filled with wonder. “What in the world is this, Bastien?”

“Only one way to find out.”

I grin and bite my bottom lip while holding the box on my lap, savoring the excitement and mystery behind the contents.

There’s a delightful fragrance to it. Old, yet not musty. A smell I can’t quite give a name.

“The waiting is killin’ me, baby girl. Open it.”

Baby girl?

I lift the top and peel the delicate tissue paper away to reveal an old . . . I’m not sure what. For a split second, it looks like a homemade dress. Until I take it out and hold it up.

An apron. Old-fashioned cherry print, trimmed in red fabric with white polka dots. Very vintage housewife.

“It was my mother’s. She wore it every time she cooked.”

My heart fills with . . . something I can’t label. “Bastien . . . you can’t give this to me.”

“I want you to have it. And I want you to wear it while I teach you how to cook my family recipes.”

Giving me his mother’s apron. Teaching me his family recipes—the ones he holds so dear. These things feel like an open door into his life. Into his family, although his parents and brother are gone. A warm welcome. Acceptance.

I’ve never had that before. Not even with the family I was born into. The people who were supposed to love and protect me didn’t.

This is too much. Too special to give to me. A paid companion.

I don’t feel worthy.

Bastien becomes blurry as my eyes fill with tears. “Your mother would want your wife to have her apron. She’d want you to teach those recipes to her and your children.”

“I’m sure she probably would, but I’m never going to have a wife and children. Our family recipes are going to die with me if I don’t teach them to someone. Vale is too busy and has no interest. I want to pass them on through you.”

Oh. My. God.

Oh. My. God.

I was teasing him about teaching me his mother’s secret recipes.

I don’t even know how to respond to this.

I catch the tears that have rolled down my cheeks with my thumb. “You have no idea how much I would love that. Thank you.” They’re the only words I can manage to choke out. And they sound less than stellar, considering the significance of the gift he has just given me.

“You and I are going to dine in the finest restaurants, but no restaurant will ever prepare a meal I enjoy more than one created in the kitchen of this house. We’ll stay in luxurious hotels around the world and see amazing sights, but none of those things will top the way I feel when I’m here. Home. This is where my heart is and will always be. And I’m so happy that you have agreed to live here with me as my companion.”

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

This man can’t say amazing things like that to me, leaving me both speechless and breathless.

Oh, what a difference thirteen years can make. No guy my age would have the forethought to do anything half as touching as the things Bastien has said and done this morning.

“Your first cooking lesson is today, baby girl. And it’s going to be a big one. We’re preparing my mom’s version of Cajun Christmas.”

Again with the baby girl? I guess that’s my new name. I like it.

My family was screwed up ty-nine different ways. My childhood and adolescent years were a nightmare but I know what’s considered traditional by normal people. “No turkey and dressing with vegetables and side dishes and desserts?”

“Not the kind you’re used to.” He has no idea what I was used to. And I hope he never does. “We put a hot and spicy twist on just about everything.”

“Hot and spicy, huh? I’m game.”

“Meet me in the kitchen when you’re finished getting ready and we’ll get started.”

I have to thank him first. Show him the appreciation I have for making me feel so welcome and cherished. Let him know that I recognize and treasure the value of his gift.

His eyes widen as I approach and put my arms around his shoulders for a hug. “Thank you, Bastien. I will cherish your mother’s apron and recipes.”

He slowly brings his arms up to return my embrace but says nothing.

I rise on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

I step away and dash for the stairs without looking at his face. I don’t want him to notice the ice melting. Detect the instability in my protective wall.

Even if both are happening inside my chest right now.

I can’t let him see.

CHAPTER TWELVE

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

Rose comes into the kitchen holding Mom’s apron. Not wearing it. “Bastien, I’m not sure about cooking in your mother’s apron. I’m afraid I’ll stain it.”

Not like it’s new. My mom must have cooked in it the last twenty years of her life. “You’ll only be adding new stains to the existing ones. She would be happy to see you wear it. And even happier to know you’re cooking her recipes.”

Rose looks hesitant but slips it over her head and ties the bow at her lower back. She’s so petite that the bottom hits below her knees. “Do I look like a vintage housewife?”

She’s wearing a loose black tunic, tight jeans, and her hair is twisted into a messy bun on the top of her head. No makeup. Even like this, she’s lovely. I don’t think the girl can help it. Her beauty is natural. “I’d say more like a glamorous domestic goddess.”

Dimples deepen in both cheeks. I haven’t noticed those until now. “Glamorous domestic goddess. I’ll take it.”

I’m surprised by the stirred emotions I have over seeing her in my mom’s apron. “My mother always wanted a daughter. She said she guessed that she’d get two when her sons took wives.”

“Did Bernard have a wife?”

“He was engaged when he was diagnosed with cancer.”

“His fiancée must have been devastated.”

“I’d say not since she left him a month after he told her he was sick.”

I never liked Sarah. She always seemed selfish and more concerned with her own wellbeing than anyone else’s. Unfortunately, my suspicions were confirmed. “Said she couldn’t handle seeing him get sick.”

I can see the sympathy in her expression. She’s sad for me. Sad for my loss. “I’m so sorry he had to go through that. As if getting the news of having cancer wasn’t enough.”

“He felt alone and abandoned initially. I hated to see my brother hurt, but it was better she ended their relationship early in the illness rather than bailing when his condition worsened.”

That’s what I want for Rose. For her to be gone before my condition snowballs. Gone on my terms when I say. Not leaving me when I’m at my lowest because she can’t handle my illness. Bernard was so hurt when Sarah bailed. I can’t go through that with Rose, even if our relationship is strictly platonic.

She’s approaching twenty-three—the prime of her life.

And I’m exiting mine.

If I’m lucky—or unlucky, depending upon how you look at it—and my health doesn’t deteriorate rapidly, Rose could spend up to three years with me per our agreement. Half of her twenties will be gone. Wasted on me. Am I wrong for keeping her during a time she could potentially be finding a husband? Possibly starting a family? Finding her own happily ever after?

She offers a warm smile. “I hope being in the kitchen cooking family recipes today will remind you of happy times you shared with your family. So, what’s on the Christmas menu?”

“Cajun roasted turkey breast with jalapeño cornbread dressing, praline sweet potatoes, Cajun corn casserole, Cajun string bean casserole, jalapeño cranberry sauce, and cranberry pecan muffins.”

“Lots of Cajun. And a lot of food for just the two of us.”

“It’s impossible to cook a Christmas meal like this for two people.”

“We should invite Vale.”

“Vale has plans.” Rose lived with her for three years. She should already know that.

“What kind of plans?”

“She has a special friend she spends the holidays with.”

Rose’s brow wrinkles. “I always thought she spent them with you.”

“We exchange gifts before she meets up with him.”

Rose grins. “I always suspected she had a secret boyfriend.”

“He’s a secret all right. She’s never let me meet him and will only tell me his first name is John.” And I think that was a slip-up.

“That’s weird, considering you’re her best friend.”

“He doesn’t live in New Orleans. They fly back and forth to see one another but she’s never made an attempt to introduce us while he’s been in town.”

“How long has she been seeing him?”

“She was with him when Bernard died and had to fly home from one of their getaways. That was ten years ago.”

“Ten years ago?” Her mouth is gaping. “That’s so bizarre that in all that time she wouldn’t let you meet him. And they wouldn’t marry.”

It doesn’t surprise me at all. Vale can be very secretive at times, even with me. “As far as marriage goes, I’m pretty sure she’s happy with their arrangement. She wouldn’t continue seeing him if she weren’t. And I suspect he’s a politician—a very well-known one—hence the reason they keep their relationship hush-hush. It wouldn’t look great for him to be dating a high-dollar pimp.”

“You enjoy calling her those names, don’t you?”

“Flesh-peddler is a lot more fun than entrepreneur or businesswoman, don’t you agree?”

Rose giggles. “No comment.”

“You aren’t siding with me now, but you will one day.”

***

I open my eyes when Rose’s cries reach my ears and wake my sleeping mind. I don’t hesitate. My feet are on the floor and I’m crossing the hall to get to her.

Only a month into this relationship and we’ve fallen into a routine where her nightmares are concerned. I crawl into bed, wake her, and she almost instantly clings to me and falls back asleep.

On average, I’m leaving my bed and getting into hers three to four times a week. And strangely, I don’t mind. Not even a little. What has surprised me the most is the fact I actually like being needed without feeling smothered. I’d be fine with coming to her bed every night, and I have wondered whether I should just start there, but most women consider that a step toward a relationship. With Rose, I’m not sure. She is different from other women.

“Rose, wake up.”

She instantly stops fighting and moaning when I speak. Seems like it’s getting easier to wake her than it was when she first came to live with me.

“Sorry.” She always apologizes.

“Nothing to be sorry about, baby girl.”

She rolls on her side and nuzzles into my body until we’re spooning. I wrap my arm around her protectively, like I do every night when I come into her bed, so she knows she’s safe. My instinct is to keep her from harm.

I’ve become fond of Rose in the short amount of time we’ve been together. I want to chase away her fears and feel her relax in my arms because she trusts me.

But I also want to feel the warmth of her body. The softness of her skin. The smell of her hair. Even if that’s as far as our physical contact ever goes.

“Sweet dreams.” I always tell her that, as though it’s going to chase away the nightmares. I don’t know. Maybe it works because she’s never had a nightmare after I’ve gotten in bed with her.

Rose laces her fingers through mine and squeezes. That’s something she’s never done. And it lets me know she hasn’t drifted back to sleep like usual. “Bash, I want to tell you about it.”

She’s ready to talk about whatever it is that torments her; she trusts me enough to finally go to that place?

I squeeze her a little tighter, my way of comforting her. “I’m listening.”

“My mom was fifteen when she had me. She wasn’t married, so we continued to live with her mother and stepfather after I was born. When I was seven, my mother’s sister became pregnant. Her eighteen-year-old special needs sister.”

Rose stops to take a breath, a deep one, and slowly exhales. This is going to be bad.

I pull her closer and squeeze our still laced fingers together. And wait for her to gather her words. Tell this story at her own pace.

“My mother’s stepfather sexually abused her for years. She told no one, not even after she became pregnant with me. My grandmother figured out what he’d been doing when Jessica became pregnant.”

What kind of sick bastard does that?

I know things like that happen but I’ve never known anyone personally affected. And I’m thrown for a loop. I don’t know how to respond. Nothing feels like the right response.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” It’s all I’ve got.

“My step-grandfather, my father, got my mother pregnant when she was fourteen, Bastien. Fourteen. Only a child.”

I’m still holding her tightly, bracing for the words I don’t want to hear. So afraid of what she’s going to tell me next.

“My grandmother kicked my mom and me out. Not him. She forgave him and blamed my mother for everything. She let him continue to stay there in the house with my mother’s sister who couldn’t defend herself.”

I’m sickened by the thought of everything he probably continued doing to that poor girl, but I’m relieved to hear that Rose had been removed from his evil reach.

“I hated him even before I knew the truth. I hated him because of how mean he was to my mom all the time. But as far as I remember, he never touched me. He liked them a bit older than I was at the time, but I have no doubt I would have been next, biological daughter or not.”

Sick, sick, sick bastard.

“So my mother was twenty-two with a seven-year-old kid, and we were on the streets. She did what she had to do for us to survive. She started dancing and stripping on Bourbon.” I wince when I remember joking with her about being a stripper on Bourbon. I hate so badly that I said that.

“The money must have been good because we had a decent apartment. Life was okay for a little while . . . until she ended up on heroin. Everything fell apart after that.”

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen. As you can imagine, I had no guidance. I wasn’t being parented at all. And that’s how I came to be in a place I had no business being.”

I have a feeling that Rose’s story has just begun, and that I haven’t heard the worst of it.

“I made friends with a girl in our apartment building. Summer was a couple years older than I was, but I knew her from school. She was in a pretty similar situation. Parents never around. The circumstances were a perfect recipe for a disaster.”

Rose stops talking for a minute and breathes in deeply before exhaling. I’ve noticed she does that right before she’s about to tell me something difficult. “Summer got invited to a party with some juniors and seniors from school. We were besties, so of course she took me with her. Everyone was drinking and smoking this and that. Not me. I wasn’t touching that stuff after seeing what it did to my mom. But somehow, someway I must have been slipped some kind of drug. I was fine one minute and then my next memory was waking up the following morning at the party with a really bad headache.”

Her body is shuddering and I know this story is about to take a turn for the worse.

“I didn’t feel right . . . down there. And then I found blood in my underwear after I got home. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what had happened. Except the who and how part.”

She’s trembling and the tighter I hold her, the harder she shakes.

“Weeks passed and little fragments of that night began flashing in my head. And they still do.” Her voice shudders, followed by a sob. “But I never see a face or hear a voice. It’s always a shadow. I’m not even sure if it was one person or a whole gang.”

“Oh, Rose.” Those are the only two words I can form.

It’s no wonder she’s never had a boyfriend or dated. How could she trust a man after the evil she’s seen?

And yet here I am. In her bed. She’s living with me. Allowing me to hold her. Soothe her. How is that even possible?

“You’d think not remembering would be a blessing, but it’s not.” She sucks in and mucus rattles in her nose. “He or they know what they did, but for me, it will always be a mystery. Sometimes I think not knowing is more painful than if I’d been conscious and experienced the whole thing. I have to imagine the acts.”

It’s no surprise she has night terrors.

“My mom overdosed a year later. Obviously going back to my grandmother’s wasn’t an option with him still living there. Not that she wanted me anyway. So I ended up in the system, bouncing around from one home to the next until I barely graduated from high school. They turned me loose after that, and it wasn’t long until I was living on the streets. I had been surviving as a street performer for about a year when Vale found me. I don’t know where I’d be today if she hadn’t.”

I don’t know either, but I’m certain it wouldn’t be with me. And that would be a heartbreaking tragedy.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.” I know that had to be a gut-wrenching thing to give voice to.

I’m so angry at Rose’s step-grandfather. Or father. I don’t know what to call him. Son of a bitch is the only name that fits him in my book. How does a man hurt a girl—two girls—repeatedly for years and get away with it?

And her grandmother? It’s preposterous to think she would blame Rose’s mother and kick them out of her home instead of the abuser. Everything about that situation is screwed up.

And her rapist. Or rapists. I don’t know what gives anyone the idea that they have the right to drug a girl and have sex with her. I, like Rose, hate imagining what happened to her. Makes me sick.

“You’ve made it very easy for me to put my trust in you, Bash.”

“You can always trust me. I hope you know that.”

“I think we’re definitely on the right path. I’m glad to have that off my chest.” She wiggles and settles into her usual position, while still holding my hand.

And that’s all we say, although I’m certain neither of us are going to sleep anytime soon. I’m content to say nothing and lie here holding her for as long as she needs. Where she feels safe from the monsters who attack her in the darkness of night. I’ll be here for this girl whose heart is too beautiful for the barbarity she’s suffered.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

-

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

One foot in, and then the other. I step into the red sequined gown and pull it up my body, wiggling as it glides over my hips. Reaching behind my back, I pull the zipper upward until it hits a point where it won’t rise any further. I lower it and try again. Three times I repeat the same process without any luck.

I crack my bedroom door and call out to Bastien, “Can you please come upstairs and help me a sec?”

I give the zipper one final fruitless attempt.

Bastien takes a few steps into my bedroom before he goes completely still. And says nothing. Eyes wide as they scan me from head to toe and then back up again. This is a first. I can’t recall him ever looking me over like this.

“I can’t get my zipper up.” I spin around and pull my hair off my back and shoulders. “The dress isn’t too tight. Does it look like there’s a thread caught in it or something?”

He comes to me and examines my dress. Despite clearing his throat, his voice still sounds like a toad when he answers, “Not that I can see.”

He lowers the zipper and hesitates before pulling it upward. Wonder if that’s because he’s checking out my black lace thong. Doubtful. Bastien never looks at me in any kind of sexual nature. But lately, I wish he would.

I should be over the disappointment. I shouldn’t long for him to look at me differently. We both made the situation very clear at the beginning. Nothing is ever going to happen beyond those terms we initially agreed upon.

I stand taller, suck in my stomach, and poke out my butt and boobs. “Try it now.”

He pulls upward and the zipper smoothly glides to the top. “Got it.”

I step away and adjust my dress. “Looks okay?”

I already know this dress looks dynamite on me. It hugs and accentuates every curve I have. Butt. Boobs. Hips.

“Beautiful.”

Bastien tells me often that I’m beautiful. He never withholds compliments but something about the way he’s looking at me tonight feels different. I like it.

“The other Duets will be wearing black. Vale wants me to wear red tonight for some reason.”

“Hopefully to signify that you’re unavailable.”

That thought never occurred to me. “I was sort of thinking it was so the other Duets could scan the room and easily locate me in case they need something.”

“Stop saying other Duets like you’re still one of them. You’re not.”

Why is Bastien being so snappy with me? “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” Nope is not typical Bastien vocabulary.

He’s saying one thing but his tone tells me something entirely different. And his expression. I’ve known him long enough to recognize that when his jaw is set like that, he’s pissed off. “You’re upset.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You may be unaware, but I’ve come to know you pretty well over the last several months. I know when something is wrong so you might as well go ahead and tell me.”

He puts his hands low on his hips, just above his jeans, and groans beneath his breath. “I don’t see why it’s necessary for you to attend this masquerade tonight. You’re not available for the taking.”

I’ve never heard Bastien say anything like that. He sounds . . . no, he can’t possibly be jealous. Or possessive. Can he?

Whatever is happening, I relish it. And I may be turning cartwheels on the inside. “I’m well aware I’m not available for anyone else’s taking.”

“But those men . . .” Bastien stops and his jaw is clenched tightly as he shakes his head from side to side. “Those men at that party won’t know. They’re going to see a beautiful woman in a red sequined dress standing out from the rest of the crowd. Trust me. They’re going to want you.”

I only want you to want me. Those words beg to be released.

“I’ll tell anyone who asks that I’m not available, and I’ll happily introduce him to a Duet who is. That’s my job. To make connections.”

“I don’t like anything about this. I don’t want you at that party.”

As much as I enjoy hearing him say that, I’m obligated to be there. “I helped train these girls. I should be present to support them.”

“I want this to stop.”

My heart panics and skips a beat. “You want what to stop?”

Please don’t say us. I haven’t had enough time with you or enough relaxing Sunday breakfasts or enough of your carefree sense of humor or enough of our lazy Saturday night movie nights.

I haven’t had enough of you. Period.

“Your involvement with Duets Foundation. Contact with clients.” I’m relieved, yet I’m not.

“What would I do all day if I didn’t work at Duets?” I’m finished with school unless I go back for my master’s.

“I want you to come to work for me at PPI. I can use your help.”

I don’t know what I thought he was going to say but it sure wasn’t that. “To do what?”

“Be my personal assistant. I’ll give you the office right next to mine.”

I’m stunned. I wasn’t expecting this at all. “I don’t know anything about the commercial real estate business.” That’s stating the obvious.

“You have a business degree. I’m confident you can learn.”

“I like working with Vale and enjoy training the new girls.” I’ve not mentioned it to Bastien, but I’m interested in buying into Duets.

I’m set for now but I won’t be with Bastien forever. Our relationship has a shelf life. As much as I hate it, I must consider what I’ll do with my life after we part ways.

I love Vale and Duets. I admire the brand she has created, and I think together we can grow it into something so much bigger.

“I need help, Rose. I’m drowning because I’m so busy.”

“You could hire anyone as a PA.” Probably someone much more qualified than I am.

“But I want you to be my PA.”

We’d wake together, go to work together, come home together. That’s a lot of Bastien and Rose time. “Do you realize that means we’d be with each other almost twenty-four/seven?”

“Would that be so bad?”

Bastien and I get along great. He’s become my best friend. But the more I’m with him, the more I long for something outside of his boundaries. Being with him all the time is only going to add fuel to that fire.

“Let me think about it.”

“I’ll pay you well.”

“The pay isn’t the issue.”

“Then what is the issue?”

This is it. My chance to tell him I’m falling in love with him. All I have to do is say the words. They’re hanging on the tip of my tongue waiting to be set free.

I want to so badly. But then I remember the terms of our agreement. His wishes. His expectations. His boundaries. All of them specifically excluded love and romance, leaving no room for doubt. Bastien isn’t in love with me nor does he ever want to be.

Friendship. That’s what I have to settle for.

I can’t have this conversation right now. I’m terrified he’ll figure out what’s preventing me from saying yes. And if he puts two and two together, I’m terrified he’ll tell me we’re over.

“The car will be here to pick me up in fifteen minutes, and I’m not finished getting ready. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Bastien comes to me and kisses the top of my head. “You look beautiful, baby girl.”

As I have many times over the last several months, I lift my chin to look at him and imagine what would happen if I went up on my tiptoes and kissed his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Will you be late?”

“Not sure but if I am I’ll be quiet so I don’t disturb you.”

“I want you to wake me when you come in. I like knowing you’re home and safe.”

Bastien loves me. Maybe not the way I love him but it’s still there. I feel it. And who knows? Maybe it can grow into something more one day.

***

“Champagne?” I take the glass of bubbly from the tray. I plan on having quite a few of these tonight. Maybe it’ll numb the pain I feel when I think about the life I want with Bastien but will never have.

“Rose? Can I talk to you a second?”

I turn to the voice behind me. It’s Scarlet, one of the newer Duets I helped train.

“Of course.”

She nibbles her bottom lip and wrings her hands. “Do you see the guy in the gray suit with the purple plaid tie? The one sitting at the bar.”

I discreetly scan the room until I find the man she’s describing. “Yes.”

“I know him. He was one of my professors last semester.”

“Are you sure?” He’s wearing a masquerade mask, so she could be wrong.

“I spent three days a week being mesmerized by those eyes. I’d know them anywhere, mask or not.”

“Do you think he has recognized you?”

“No. I’ve been careful to maintain distance. But the thing is . . . I want to talk to him.”

“Oh.” Not where I thought this was going.

“Would I be breaking any kind of rule if I do?”

I can’t recall a Duet ever knowing one of the men who sought Vale’s services. “No rule with Duets that I know of. However, there’s the student/professor code to consider.”

“I crushed so hard on him the entire semester. I figured he was married or had a girlfriend . . . or maybe a boyfriend. It’s so ironic to run into him under these circumstances. If he’s here, he’s looking for someone.”

“Could be your big chance.”

“I’m doing it. I’m going over to him right now before another Duet sinks her claws into him.”

“I say go for it.” I know how to give advice, but I sure don’t know how to take it myself.

I watch Scarlet initiate a conversation with her former professor. They talk for a couple minutes, and she lifts her mask. Realization spreads across his face and then a smile. He twists on the barstool and turns his full attention solely on her. He’s into Scarlet. Very into her. I can clearly see it from across the room. I think we could have a successful match on our hands.

“Great turnout, right?”

I turn when I hear Vale’s voice beside me. “Yeah. But it always is when you have a new crop of Duets up for availability.” Clients, new and old, are eager to meet the new girls.

“I’ve had several inquiries about you tonight. They were disappointed to hear you weren’t available.”

Maybe Vale can shed a little light on Bash’s behavior about me attending the party. “Bastien didn’t want me to come tonight. He acted sort of possessive of me and jealous that I was going to be around clients.”

“Of course he didn’t want you to come. He considers you his.”

“I am his.” But not in every way I want to be.

“Is something happening between the two of you?” I wish.

“No.” I hesitate a moment and consider the ramifications of confessing my love for Bastien. Vale’s been doing this a while. She has seen Duets fall in love with clients. She’s also one of Bastien’s best friends and knows him better than anyone else, but she also knows me. She’s aware I’m not the sort of girl to fall in love with a man just because he is handsome and wealthy. She’ll understand. “I’d like there to be something happening.”

Vale smiles, not looking at all surprised. “Are you in love with him?”

There’s no two ways about it. I love him with all of my heart. “Yes.”

“Does he love you?”

“I think he loves me the same way he loves you.” As a best friend.

I’ve spent the last several months learning a tough lesson. Unrequited love is painful. In fact, it’s one of the most painful things I’ve experienced in my life.

“You should tell him.”

Has Vale lost her mind? “God, no. You were there when we made our companionship agreement. He was very clear about not wanting a romantic relationship.”

“Sometimes things change. You’ve lived together five months. He could be open to it now.”

“If I tell him, and he’s not feeling it, I’ll ruin what we have. Things may never be the same between us. That would kill me, Vale. I can’t risk it.”

“But what if he feels the same and you’re both sitting there saying nothing?”

“Wouldn’t I know? Wouldn’t I pick up on some kind of clue?”

“Not necessarily. Men are strange animals.” Ain’t that the truth?

“Seems like you would know. He’s your best friend.”

“Bastien has never been in love. If I know my best friend, he hasn’t worked this out in his head yet. That’s not to say he won’t though.”

“He wants me to stop working for you and come to work for him as his personal assistant.” I think that means something big. I’m just not sure what.

Vale’s eyes widen. “How do you feel about that?”

“I like working with you. I enjoy training the girls.”

“But you love Bastien. Becoming his personal assistant would bring you closer. As much as I would hate losing you, growing closer to him might be exactly what you need for him to fall in love with you. Or maybe realize that he already is.”

Vale did this on her own before I came along, and I know she can again, but she has come to depend on me. “Feels like I would be abandoning you just as things are taking off by leaps and bounds.”

“I love you, Rose. I want you to be happy. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. If that includes letting you go so you can try this with B, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Vale is very confident in encouraging me to go to work for Bastien. Has she seen something in him I haven’t? “I’m scared to do this.”

“Don’t be. You know I’d take you back at Duets in a heartbeat if it doesn’t work out at PPI.”

She’s such a good friend. “I appreciate that more than you know.”

So torn. I saw my role at Duets growing. Not ending.

“I’m not entirely certain that taking a job at PPI will work out. I foresee Wendy being difficult.” She knows, or believes, Bastien and I are a couple and yet she’s always trying to cause problems between us. Constantly badmouthing me although our only contact has been when I’ve visited him at work or attended a couple PPI events.

“I trained you. I’m confident you know how to put that bitch in her place.” True. Vale didn’t just train me. She raised me more during those three years than my mother ever did.

Bastien has asked this of me. I don’t think it’s random. “I hate stepping away from Duets, but I need to give it a go.” I want to do this.

“You love Bastien. You have to see where this goes. I totally understand and I hope it works out. Nothing would make me happier than to see you together.”

Nothing would make me happier either.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

Eleven o’clock came and went. Midnight as well. I came to bed a little after one. I didn’t want Rose to know I was waiting up for her. But I am. I won’t sleep a wink until I know she’s home and safe. Home. With me.

This isn’t the way our relationship is supposed to be. I shouldn’t be lying awake, jealous because she’s at a party, looking as beautiful as ever. A party where other men are, without doubt, vying for her attention and company.

Rose is my paid companion, but I don’t own her. She’s obliged to live under my roof and give me her time and attention. But not all of it. What if she meets someone she wants to date? I’m not sure how I’d handle that. I don’t have the right to do anything else but allow her to fly. As she deserves.

I once encouraged her to date, but that was early in our relationship. Before we spent month after month sharing laughter, movies, breakfasts, dreams, and incredible banter. Before she became my other best friend. Before I wanted to do more than hold her through the nights in her bed. Before I fell in love with her.

She’s all I think about. I yearn for her to be with me every waking minute. I need to spend every good moment I have left with her.

The alarm alerts with the door ajar sound and I know she’s home. An immediate rush of relief washes over me and I lie still, waiting for her to appear in the doorway of my bedroom.

She softly taps on my bedroom door. “I’m home.”

“I’m awake.” I reach over and turn on the lamp. I have to see her in that dress again.

The glow softly illuminates the room and the sequins on her dress catch the light, eliciting a sparkle. As does she.

Damn. She’s so beautiful it hurts.

“How’d the party go?” What I really mean is did you talk to any men? Did any pursue you?

“It was good.”

I don’t know what good means to her. But I want to know.

I pat the bed and scoot toward the center. “Come here and tell me about it.” If it was good because she met someone, I need to know that. Not that I’d know what to do about it. And not that I would have the right to do anything at all.

She doesn’t hesitate in coming over to sit on my bed. “We had a lot of new Duets to present tonight and the client turnout was a lot bigger than expected.”

Big client turnout equates to an abundance of wealthy vultures in attendance. “That means there weren’t a lack of matches?”

“We won’t know until the clients contact for a booking, but we certainly anticipate plenty of inquiries.”

“Any clients inquire about you?”

She shrugs and looks away. “Maybe a few.”

“That’s a yes.”

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to me.”

Her eyes dart up to meet mine. She hesitates, simply maintaining eye contact before speaking. “Vale told them I wasn’t available. End of story.”

“Anyone ask you for a date and not a booking?” I should probably stop with the quizzing. I sound like a jealous boyfriend interrogating her.

She shakes her head. “No. And if they did, you know I’d say no.”

I’d love to believe she’d have said no to a potential suitor because of an affection she feels for me but it’s more likely her lack of interest would be related to her painful past.

“I’m not sad no one asked you for a date. I’m selfish and want all of your time for myself.” Dating would cut into her time with me and I’m not ready for that. I couldn’t cope with it. At least not while I’m still healthy.

“Well, I was propositioned.” For sex?

“By whom?”

She punches my upper arm. “You, silly. The job offer. Or have you forgotten so quickly?”

My mood instantly lifts when she brings up the job proposal. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“I spoke with Vale about it tonight. Told her I was coming to work for you. She’s fine with it.”

I’m grinning like a fool. And I don’t care. She has made me one happy man. “I’m really pleased to hear that.”

“I may be the worst personal assistant ever. You may decide it was a terrible decision to bring me on.”

I don’t care if she sits there and does nothing. She’ll be sitting there and doing nothing with me. “I have zero worries about it, baby girl.”

“We’ll see about that.”

She arches her back and rolls her shoulders before tilting her head to each side. “I’m so tired. My back hurts and these shoes are killing my feet. My bed is calling my name hard.”

She was gone about nine hours, and I know that party wasn’t all fun for her. It was work. “It was a long night for you. Go get some rest. Sleep in and I’ll make you your favorite breakfast when you get up.”

“That sounds wonderful.” She stands and turns. “Unzip me before I go?”

Unzip me. As much as I don’t mind doing that for her, it will be torture for me.

I slide to the edge of the bed so she’s standing between my legs. I grasp the zipper and slowly lower it, studying the flesh of her back as it becomes exposed. So smooth. So creamy. So kissable.

I wonder what she’d do if I moved closer and pressed my lips against the skin of her lower back just above the waistband of her thong. I lean toward her and toy with the idea, allowing my breath to touch her skin since my mouth is too afraid.

I don’t mistake the goosebumps or shiver of her spine when the warmth makes contact with her back.

I stare at the black lace playing peekaboo with me. My hands twitch with desire to run my fingers down her spine and take the dress with them as they move lower.

Damn. I shouldn’t torment myself this way.

“Got it.”

She looks at me over her shoulder. Hesitant to move. Looking at me for a beat longer. Considering the same thing, maybe?

“Thank you.” Her voice is little more than a breathy whisper.

She turns around, clutches her dress to her breasts, and clears her throat. “Do you want me to start Monday?” Are her cheeks flushed because of me?

“Monday would be great.”

“Okay, boss. Good night.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“I’ll try.”

More than a few nights a week, I lie next to her in her bed because her dreams aren’t sweet. Her softness beside me, and her scent in the air I breathe has become two of my favorite things. I hate that Rose is tormented by nightmares but their presence means I have a reason to pull her close.

And I don’t hate that.

***

Bringing Rose on at PPI has proven to be one of my best decisions ever. Not only is she the best assistant I could have hired, I get to have her near me all of the time. Win-win.

But not everyone is happy about Rose’s employment at the firm. Wendy is less than thrilled, but I’m proud of the way Rose handles herself. Kill her with kindness. That’s Rose’s MO where Wendy is concerned, yet she has this clever way of putting the woman in her place.

Rose is sitting on my office sofa. She’s in deep concentration reading the paperwork for PPI’s newest property so she doesn’t notice me looking over to steal glances at her.

That red dress fits her like a glove, showing just the right amount of leg. And those mile-high leopard-print heels . . . hot, hot, hot. I love having her at the office with me, but damn, she makes it hard to concentrate, especially when she’s working in my office instead of hers.

She looks up from the paperwork and opens her mouth to speak but stops when she catches me ogling her. She smiles and her brow wrinkles. “What?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. Why are you looking at me like that?”

I’m curious to hear how she perceives the way I watch her. “What kind of way am I looking at you?”

Her smile deepens and she glances away. “Never mind.”

“I want to know. How am I looking at you?”

She glances over at me and then down again. “Like you want something.”

The woman couldn’t be more right. I do want something. Her. “What do you think I want?”

She tilts her head to the side and grins as she nibbles her bottom lip. That lip I want to suck into my mouth and then bite and kiss at the same time because I can’t decide which I’d rather do.

“Tell me. What do you think I want?” I’m curious to see how far I can take this conversation. How much I can get her to admit about the way she interprets my gaze. She might be inexperienced, but surely she can see I want her.

Rose is so different from any other woman I’ve ever wanted. She’s delicate. Fragile. Innocent. She doesn’t know how to play the seduction game, yet she has seduced my heart, body, and soul.

I need her.

I want her.

I love her.

The knock on my office door ends the flirtatious game we’re playing. Dammit. Was something about to happen?

“Come in.”

Wendy enters and her eyes immediately go to Rose. “Didn’t know you were with anyone. I’ll come back later.”

Rose has been employed here for two months. Wendy is well aware that she does the majority of her work in my office instead of hers. Because that’s the way I want it.

“Rose will be here later as well. What do you need?”

I can tell by Wendy’s expression that she isn’t enthused about speaking to me in front of Rose. Don’t care. “I was going to see if you’d join me for lunch today. I have something I’d like to discuss.”

“Already made lunch plans with Rose, but I have a few minutes before my next client arrives if you want to talk.”

Wendy looks over at Rose. “I need more than a few minutes. I’ll try again another time.”

She says nothing else before she walks out, leaving my office door open. “She knows I like that closed. I think she does that to irritate me.”

Rose gets up, goes to the door and shuts it. “She doesn’t want us to be behind a closed door doing inappropriate things at work.” I’d love nothing more than to be doing inappropriate things at work with Rose. More than inappropriate if I’m honest.

“Wendy has a bad habit of forgetting who the boss is.” I’ve love to get rid of her but the business relationship I have with her father is too important for PPI. For now, I’ll tolerate her.

“Well, I know who the boss is. And the boss missed signing these papers in one place.”

Rose walks around the desk and stands at my side, placing the document in front of me. She leans down and thumbs through the papers until she reaches the page I need to sign. “Right here, boss.”

I smile inside as I sign, using the engraved pen she gave me for Christmas. May our companionship be filled with smiles and laughter. I can’t believe how much joy she has brought into my life these last seven months.

“What was that?”

Shit. My shoulder just twitched, and she saw it. “What was what?”

“That jerking movement in your shoulder.”

It’s started. My muscles are beginning to show the symptoms of the disease. But I can’t tell her that. I’m not ready yet. “Old football injury, I guess.”

“With a side of stress, I’m sure. Let me rub your shoulders.”

Rose moves behind me and places her hands on each of my shoulders. She rhythmically squeezes the muscle and releases it. “Feel good?”

“Yes.” You have no idea how good it feels to have your hands on me.

Every time she touches me, I close my eyes and imagine us anywhere other than at the office. Her touch when she’s expertly massaging my shoulders, because she’s so damn good at it, makes me wish we were at home, in bed, wearing way less clothes.

“Harder and deeper?”

Damn. Why did she have to say that? “I wouldn’t mind harder and deeper.”

She tightens her grip and squeezes firmly, sending me into heaven. It’s only a taste of what having Rose’s hands all over me might feel like.

And I want more. So much more. How can I be turned on and completely relaxed at the same time?

Her hands grasp the sides of my face and forces my head backward so I’m looking at her upside down. She leans over and places a kiss on my forehead. God, how I wish it was my mouth. “I expect that favor to be returned later.”

“Gladly.” I would love to put my hands on Rose. Any time, anywhere, any place she wants.

***

“Dammit.” I reach for a dish towel to catch the spilt coffee before it rolls off the counter onto the floor.

I’m clumsier than I was even a month ago. The symptoms are worsening. This disease is defeating me, and I can’t make it stop.

Rose has noticed the little changes. The tremors. The twitches. The weakness. She has asked me about them on several occasions, but I always make up some kind of lie.

I hate lying to the woman I love. And as much as I despise it, the time has come. I have to tell Rose about my diagnosis before it gets worse.

I’ve only had her in my life for nine months. I’m not ready to give her up, but I won’t let her stick around and watch me deteriorate into nothing.

She comes into the kitchen as I finish cleaning up my mess. “What is my favorite chef cooking for breakfast on this fine Saturday morning?”

“Lemon ricotta pancakes with blueberries and a side of bacon.”

“Oh, yummy. Want me to help?”

“Nah. Almost done.”

“Why’d you get up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I know what I’ll be telling her today, and it has me on edge.

“Hate that for you but it’s a win for me if I’m getting this kind of breakfast.”

I work to maintain a happy front while we eat. I try to memorize how she’s looking at me because I know it’s the last time she’ll ever see me this way. Like her companion. Like I’m not sick. Like a complete man.

“Come into the living room with me. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.” She grins and her voice is cheerful. But not for much longer. I’m about to yank the rug out from beneath her.

We sit on the sofa facing one another. I look into her eyes and a huge lump forms in my throat. I don’t know how to do this.

Rose grasps my hands. “It’s okay, Bash. Don’t be nervous. I’m ready for this.”

I don’t know what she thinks I’m about to reveal but whatever it is, she’s mistaken. “I have something to tell you. And it’s not good.” There’s no easing into this. I just have to say it. “I’m sick.”

From the hitch in her breath to the flicker in her eyes, I know she’s confused. I don’t look sick. “I spend every day with you, Bastien. What do you have that I’ve not seen?”

I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it goes nowhere. “I was diagnosed with ALS a year ago.”

“ALS?” Rose shakes her head, and I know by the stunned look in her eyes that she understands something about the disease.

“Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Lou Gehrig’s disease. Do you know what that is? And understand what’s going to happen to me?”

Her eyes widen and her lower lids fill with tears. “I know what it is. But there has to be some kind of mistake. This can’t be true.”

No one wishes more than me that the physicians were wrong. “I’ve seen three doctors. They all diagnosed me with the sporadic form of the disease.”

She covers her mouth with her hand to stifle her cry. “No.”

“Come here.” I scoot closer and pull her into my arms. I hold her, and she clings to me while she sobs to the point of losing her breath.

I’ve never seen her so out of control. Not even following her worst nightmares. “Breathe, baby girl.”

We stay that way for a long time—me holding her while she cries into my shoulder.

Her face and eyes are red and swollen when she pulls away and wipes her tears. “I’m sorry. I just can’t bear to think of you sick.” She takes a big breath, and I see her gather her strength. “Okay. So what do we do next? How do we go at this?”

I don’t think she understands the prognosis. “We don’t do anything.”

“There has to be something. Some kind of treatment.”

“There is no cure. It’s degenerative. I’m only going to get worse as time moves on.”

“You’re strong and healthy. Can’t you do therapy to slow the progression?”

“There’s one medication that slows the process but only by a few months. You treat the symptoms as they occur. And the symptoms have begun. They’re developing just as the doctors predicted. I’m already experiencing muscle weakness. It’s just the start of what’s to come. And I don’t want you to be around when it worsens.”

She looks stunned, as though I’ve slapped her. “Bash. Don’t say that.”

I’m about to hurt her. And myself. “It’s time for you to go. I’m releasing you. Ending our companionship.”

She shakes her head. “No . . . no . . . no. That can’t happen.”

This is a shock for her but she’ll get over it. She just needs a little time.

“It can happen. And it is happening, baby girl.”

Rose lunges and wraps her arms around me. “I’m not leaving you. I love you, Bash. Please. I have to stay.”

I love you. Three words I desperately want to hear from her. If only it was the same way I love her. But it will never be the case. It won’t be possible when she sees me fall to pieces right before her eyes. Just like how I watched Bernard weaken.

I take her arms and pull them away from my shoulders. I cradle her face with my hands so we’re eye to eye. It is breaking my heart, seeing the tears in her beautiful eyes. “I love you too but you agreed to go when I said this was over. No questions asked. You swore. And that’s what I want.”

“I don’t care what I said or what I agreed to. That was then, and this is now. I’m not going anywhere.”

She says that in this moment, but things are going to change down the road. “I won’t be the person I am today for much longer. I don’t want you to be here watching me crumble.”

“I don’t care if you’re in a wheelchair. I’ll push you. If you’re bedridden, I’ll sit by your side.”

I don’t know how Rose will react to what I’m about to tell her but I don’t expect it to go well. “You don’t understand. I’m never going to let it get to that point.”

“This is degenerative. How are you going to stop it?”

Not looking forward to the reaction I’m certain I’m going to get from her. But I have to get this out in the open. “I’ll end it before it gets bad.”

The furrow between her brow deepens. “End it how?”

I look at her, unable to vocalize my meaning. I don’t know how to do this. How to spit it out. I’m going to end my life.

“Say. It. Out. Loud. So I clearly understand your meaning.”

I’ve not done that—said the words for anyone to hear. Even myself. Attempting to articulate the words in my mouth makes this feel all too surreal.

“I’m going to end my life.”

She shakes her head. “No. Killing yourself is not acceptable for me.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

She grabs my face and holds it so we’re eye to eye again. “I will not let you do this. Do you hear me, Bastien Auguste Pascal? Never. I will never go along with this.”

I wrap my hands around her wrists and bring them to rest on her lap. “This is what I want. I don’t want to live if all I’m doing is existing. That’s no kind of life.” I need her to be on my side. To support my decision.

She’s looking at me as though she can penetrate my head and read the thoughts behind my eyes. “Does Vale know?”

“I told her two days ago.”

“What did she say?”

“Pretty much the same thing as you.” Vale is exceptionally pissed off at me right now. She hasn’t spoken to me since I told her about my plan.

“Which should be your first clue that your decision is wrong.”

Rose needs to understand that this wasn’t a knee-jerk decision. I’ve researched the disease, the treatments, and the prognosis. I’ve given this decision a lot of thought and consideration. I’ve weighted the pros and cons. “I considered simply opting out on treatment. Foregoing the ventilator when the time comes but I don’t imagine asphyxiation is a pleasant death.”

Rose lifts her hand to hold her forehead. “God, Bash. That’s gruesome. Don’t say stuff like that. I don’t want to hear it.”

I knew she wouldn’t accept this. She needs time to absorb everything I’m telling her. Maybe then, she’ll see I’m right. “I have to say things like that. This disease is gruesome. And that’s why I need you to see this from my point of view.”

She reaches out and takes my hands. “Try to see it from mine. I’m the one who’d be losing you.”

I rub my thumbs over the top of her soft, petite hands. “Our time together was going to be limited anyway. This just expedites saying goodbye.”

“I wasn’t planning to say goodbye.”

I’m angry with myself for growing so close to Rose. For falling in love with her. “This isn’t how our relationship was supposed to be. We weren’t supposed to become attached to one another.”

She squeezes my hands. “Regardless of your intentions, it happened. I am attached to you, and you’re attached to me. If you kill yourself, you kill a part of me. You see that, don’t you?”

It breaks my heart to hear her voice those kinds of feelings. It’s one of the things I feared most about taking on this relationship. “Please don’t say that.” I hate that this is hurting her.

“It’s true, Bash. You have become a part of me. One of the best parts. I can’t lose you. Not to some disease and certainly not by your own hand.”

I don’t want to be cruel or morbid, but she needs a reality check. “I’m going to waste away to nothing. Become a bag of bones in a bed who can do nothing for himself. If I don’t go through with this, I’m going to become someone’s burden.”

“You won’t be anyone’s burden.” She rubs her thumbs over the tops of my hands. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be alive. And with me.”

I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be alive. And with me. She says that now but what about when I can’t walk? When I can’t eat on my own? Or care for myself? When all I can do is lie in the bed and depend on someone else, or a machine, to do everything for me. Even breathe, the most vital necessity for living.

“I’m not leaving.” She’s so fierce, so unswerving. When did she grow that heart of steel? When did she become the most important thing to me? And how had I imagined I could do this without her?

Maybe. Maybe I can have a few more good months with Rose before I focus on my exit from this life. But I need to give her that choice.

“Okay. Stay. For now. But understand it changes nothing. When it’s time for me to go, it’s time. You aren’t going to change my mind.”

“Challenge accepted.”

FOUR MONTHS LATER

-

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

“Wow. You’ve gone above and beyond mastering my mom’s shrimp and mascarpone grits. She may come back to haunt me after I say this, but I believe you have outdone her.”

Little makes me happier than hearing Bash’s praise when it comes to his mother’s recipes. “Glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Enjoying is an understatement for what I’m experiencing. Well done, you.”

“I had the best culinary instructor. He was a bit of a hardass at times, but he taught me well.”

Bastien takes another bite of grits and there’s a slight moan in his breath. “I can’t put my finger on it but you did something differently.”

He always notices the little things. “Cooked the grits in shrimp stock. I thought it would give the dish a richer flavor without overpowering it.”

“It made a huge difference. Good idea.”

Bastien. Always complimenting me. Always finding ways to bolster my confidence. My abilities.

Like Bastien, there’s no other place I’d rather be than here. With him. He loves home-cooked meals and time at home. Those are his two favorite things, and they’ve now become mine as well.

And although my gift is one to take us away from here for a few days, I have high hopes he’ll be excited about it. “Birthday present time. Come with me.”

We go into the living room and I fetch the brown and blue-wrapped gift off the coffee table. “Happy birthday.”

“You aren’t obligated to get me anything. The birthday dinner was more than enough.”

It stings that he would suggest I might feel forced to buy him a birthday gift. His words imply we are still only a Duet and a client. “This isn’t out of obligation. I wanted to get this for you.”

“I appreciate it but I feel bad when you spend your money on me. You know how much I value the little things money can’t buy.”

“And I love that about you but I think you’ll be suuuper excited about this gift. It’s something we can do together so I guess you could say it’s a little bit for me too.”

“Something we can do together. Very interesting. I hope we haven’t gotten each other the same thing.” My birthday present from him is something we can do together too? Oh, dear. I bet we have bought each other the same thing.

Shoot. At least he’s opening my gift to him first.

Bastien tears the paper and lifts the top off the box. “No. Way.”

I don’t know what that means. “Is that a no way because we got each other the same birthday gift or a no way because you really like the gift?”

“It’s a no way because you just gave me Super Bowl tickets. And no, we didn’t get each other the same thing.”

Thank goodness for that. “I know the Saints aren’t playing, but I thought you might enjoy it anyway. It’s about a five and a half hour drive to Houston, so I thought we might make a road trip out of it instead of flying.”

“Road trip. Love it.”

He leans in and pulls me into his arms. And I welcome it. I love feeling Bastien’s arms around me. I feel safe. Adored. Wanted. “You can’t possibly imagine how much I love this gift. Thank you.”

He can’t possibly imagine how much I love that we’re going on any kind of trip together. It’s unexplainable how I can still want time with him even though we spend so much of our days together. “I’m happy you like it.”

He releases me, too soon to suit me. “I have a birthday present for you too.”

Tonight was supposed to be about him. “You know that my birthday is still seven days away?”

“I do, but there’s a reason I’m giving it to you tonight. Or at least part of it.”

Bastien dashes toward the stairs. “Stay right there. Don’t move a muscle.”

“Not going anywhere.” Ever. I’m never going anywhere if it doesn’t include you, Bash.

He returns carrying an elegantly wrapped gift from Alexis, a high-end luxury boutique. Disappointing, although Alexis is my favorite place to shop. I was hoping to see one of his self-wrapped gifts. Those are the special ones that mean so much to me.

I smile to disguise my disappointment. “You know me well. I love everything from Alexis.”

I tear into the gift and take out a black-fringed bikini. A bikini in January? That’s sort of a weird gift considering I can’t use it until later in the year.

I hold up the top and see that it’s pretty dang skimpy. “Super cute. Thank you.”

“You aren’t wondering why I’m giving you a swimsuit in January?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Although, I wasn’t going to mention it.

“You need a new bikini for our trip to Hawaii.”

Hawaii? Hawaii! “Don’t you dare kid with me about that.”

“No joke, baby girl. We fly out in the morning. Destination Honolulu.”

“Honolulu? In the morning? Woo hoo.”

Bastien knows Hawaii is on my bucket list. This man. I hurl myself onto his lap, my arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. I bury my face in the side of his neck and squeeze him tightly. “There’s no one else in this world I’d rather go to Hawaii with. Thank you.”

I love you, Bastien Auguste Pascal.

I don’t just love you. I’m hopelessly in love with you.

And the tragedy is that you’ll never know.

“I had to bite my tongue every time you talked about how it was your dream to go one day.”

I release him, although I want to keep holding tightly and stay in his lap forever. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Three months.”

That means he began planning this trip a month after he tried to make me leave. A part of me finds this reassuring. Like maybe he’s decided to let me stay by his side as the ALS progresses. But another part of me can’t help but wonder if he plans for this trip to be our one last hurrah before he tells me to leave again.

My heart dropped to my feet when Bastien told me about his illness. He was so grim and set on his plan to make me leave and then to take his life. But then hope was ignited when he conceded. There was no way I could have left him.

That was four months ago and I’m still here.

I haven’t given up on him or prolonging his life. I’ve researched the illness so I can understand everything Bastien is going through. Prepared myself for the changes his life and body will undergo. I’m equipped to handle this.

I’m not going anywhere.

Bastien’s illness. We rarely talk about it anymore. Each time we do it always becomes an argument so I think he simply opts to forego it. Fine by me. I’m happy to pretend it doesn’t exist until we are forced to face it.

“How long is this Hawaiian getaway?”

“A week.”

“Oh, Bash. You spoil me beyond belief.”

“I promised you I would.”

Times like this I have a fleeting thought that Bastien might love me the way I love him. Until I remember what we are. What I am—a companion he bought for two million dollars plus a monthly allowance. A rental fee.

He could have me for free if he wanted. I don’t care anything about his money. I only want him.

We have a wonderful relationship. I think he loves me in his own way. But he isn’t in love with me. I’d be wise to remember that instead of dreaming about what might happen if I reached out to him in the dark when he’s lying next to me after one of my nightmares.

“What time is our flight?”

“Boarding begins at seven.”

“I need to start packing. It’ll take me ’til morning to figure out what I’m going to take to wear.”

“You have new clothes for this trip hanging on the right back side of your closet. They were chosen by Candace.” Candace is my favorite sales associate at Alexis Boutique. She knows me like the back of her hand.

I want to kiss him. I want to hold him tightly so he knows how much I love him and how thankful I am for his presence in my life. But as usual, I mask my feelings and answer how I’ve been trained.

“Bastien! I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t even come close to being enough.”

“All I ever need is to see you smile. That’s it. And I’m happy.”

Making me happy makes Bastien happy. He always puts me ahead of himself. That’s not something I expected to experience in this kind of relationship.

Isn’t that what love is? I mean, the real and true kind. The sort where you love someone unconditionally. Doesn’t matter if they’re sick or flawed. Or they snore like a congested hyena. You love them just the way they are. Imperfections and all.

***

“Hello. We have a reservation for Bastien Pascal.”

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Pascal.” I smile. Not the first time we’ve heard that. Nor will it be the last.

In the last thirteen months, it hasn’t mattered whether we’ve dined out in New Orleans or traveled the world, people have always referred to me as Mrs. Pascal.

I guess we just look like we fit together. Probably because we do.

Even the employees at PPI who’ve known Bastien for years have never acted as though we aren’t the perfect couple. Except Wendy the witch.

Being mistaken for Bastien’s wife never gets old. And I love how he never corrects strangers. I get to pretend, even if only for a minute, that we’re . . . more.

Not only has Bastien brought me to Hawaii, he has booked our rooms in the most luxurious hotel on Waikiki Beach. “This is amazing, Bash.”

“I thought you might like it.”

“Looks like we have you booked for the sunset penthouse, one bedroom—king, for seven nights. Checking in on the seventeenth and departing on the twenty-fourth.”

“Correct.” Bastien doesn’t hesitate to answer. And he doesn’t tell them there’s been a mistake.

One penthouse. One bedroom. One bed.

Holy. Shiz.

Bastien books separate rooms when we travel. The rooms are always adjoining but he has his bed and I have mine. Yes, he ends up in mine pretty often but we always start out separately.

“Here are your keys. Your penthouse is on the thirty-ninth floor.”

I don’t hear anything else the receptionist says because I’m fixated on what this means.

I’m dazed as we follow the bellhop onto the elevator. Neither of us say anything as we rise to the top, but I can’t resist stealing a glance at Bastien in the mirror. His eyes meet mine and we both smile, but remain silent.

I’d say that I wish it were just the two of us in the elevator so I could ask him what’s going on but that’s not the truth. I probably couldn’t choke out the words.

The bellhop breaks the awkward silence. “Did you fly in from the mainland?”

“Yes. New Orleans.”

“Ah, The Big Easy. Never been but I’ve always wanted to go. Are you honeymooning?”

Bastien nods in my direction. “Here for her birthday.”

“Not a bad way to celebrate.”

“It definitely isn’t.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

I dart toward the floor-to-ceiling windows as soon as we’re inside the penthouse. Blue water and white sand is all I can see for miles. “Oh my goodness. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“It certainly is.”

Bastien is across the room. No way he can see what I’m talking about. “How would you know? You’re not even over here looking.”

“I’m looking, Rose. Just not at the beach.” I turn to Bastien and discover him staring at me.

“Bash . . .” I want to say the words—ask him what’s happening between us. Because I feel it. Something is changing. And it’s pivotal and significant and intense.

I look away when the bellhop returns to the living room from dropping our bags in the bedroom, as though he might read my face and know the thoughts I’m having. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Pascal?”

Bastien takes out his wallet and passes a bill to the bellhop. “Nothing else.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Bastien comes to stand with me at the window. “Is this okay?”

Is he kidding me? “It’s better than okay. It’s jaw-dropping gorgeous.”

“I’m not talking about the hotel. Is sharing a bed okay with you?”

I’m glad he’s bringing it up so we can get that conversation out of the way. “Yes, Bastien. It’s okay. We end up in the same bed most nights anyway. No reason we can’t start out together.”

“Those were my thoughts when I booked. The bed’s a king. Not like we’ll be sleeping on top of each other.” On top of each other would be all right with me.

I hope he can’t see the heat I’m feeling in my cheeks. “Right.”

“If you’re uncomfortable with this arrangement, I’ll go downstairs and book a second room.”

“I’m good with it. Promise.” I’m very good with sleeping with Bastien every night for the next week.

His face relaxes. Was he really worried I’d be upset about this?

“I have tours scheduled the next three days. One’s via helicopter. After that, we’re free to relax at the beach, the pool, or shop. Anything you want as long as I get to see you in that black bikini sometime while we’re here.” That bikini is skimpy. I’m not sure it’s suitable, even for Hawaii.

Bastien has taken me on no less than a dozen trips, some of those across the pond, but I’ve never been as excited as I am right now for this one. “This is going to be our best trip ever. We will still be talking about this vacation years from now.”

Years from now. I process the words and what they mean after I’ve said them. Even if Bastien doesn’t do the unthinkable, we won’t be able to talk about this years from now.

Not to exceed three years. That is the terms of our agreement. After that, this relationship ends.

Everything in our contract has a clause. I want a clause. An extension. Three years isn’t going to be enough.

In fact, I just want that agreement to be torn up. Ripped to shreds and put on the street with yesterday’s trash.

“This will definitely be a trip worthy of being remembered.” He doesn’t agree that we’ll be talking about it years from now.

“Indeed.” I smile to conceal the pain I feel inside as I’ve done many times.

Even though I love him, I need to remember that this is a business arrangement. I trained for this. Signed a dotted line. It is my job to deliver what is expected of me. But that doesn’t mean I won’t cherish every moment I have with this man I adore and love.

“I was thinking we could have dinner at one of the hotel restaurants and then turn in early. I want to be well rested for tomorrow.”

It’s been an exhausting day. We were up at four this morning and then had two flights. The two loud talkers behind us on our flight from Dallas kept me from going to sleep. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“There’s a casual restaurant on the beach.”

Casual. I like that. I don’t feel like getting dolled up. “Perfect. What time do you want to go?”

“Let’s go now. Maybe we’ll make it down early enough to be seated in a great spot to watch the sunset.”

Sunset with Bastien on our first night in Honolulu. Nothing could be better than that. “Let’s do it. But I want to freshen up.” And change. I always feel icky after traveling.

“Let me grab my toiletry bag and I’ll freshen up in the other bathroom.”

Super convenient this penthouse has two bathrooms.

I choose a floral halter dress. Soft. Flowing. Romantic. Candace did a great job choosing clothes for me. I’ll need to send her a thank-you/job-well-done gift when we get back.

She knows I’m in love with Bastien. She’s rooting for us. Hard. I see it in the clothing she chose for me. She’s dressing me in a perfect combination of romantic, sweet, and sexy.

But the sleepwear she chose . . . dang. Some of it is almost . . . provocative. Not the usual cotton cami-short set he’s used to seeing me wear. In my defense, I didn’t choose any of it. I’m glad he knows that. Makes it a little easier to wear in front of him. Maybe. I’m going to feel self-conscious wearing that black lacy number. Not sure I can do it. Even if he knows I didn’t choose it, the gown screams I put this on because I want to have sex with you.

Bastien is on the sofa waiting when I come out from freshening up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take so long.”

He looks at me and I don’t mistake the long breath he inhales before slowly exhaling. “Worth. Every. Minute. You look beautiful.”

I never tire of hearing Bastien tell me I’m beautiful. “Thank you.”

“Don’t forget your ID.”

I giggle because I always get carded when we order drinks. “Right.”

All bartenders think I look twelve because I’m a bit on the tiny side for a grown woman. And because I have a young-looking face with big eyes and a pixie nose. I’ll give them that, but I have boobs and hips. My body has the shape of a grown woman.

“Are you taking your clutch?” I love that Bastien knows the name for the type of purse I carry when we go out.

“I was thinking I would leave it in case we take a walk on the beach. Will you put my license in your wallet?”

“You know I will.”

The restaurant is already pretty packed when we arrive. “Looks like everyone else had the same idea as us.”

Bastien grins when he sees the hostess. “Wait here. Let me handle this.”

I know what he’s up to. “Go for it, lady charmer.”

Bastien has a special way with women. Doesn’t matter if they’re young or old or single or married. They bend to his will like putty in his hands. Just like me.

I stand behind the crowd of waiting diners while the man works his magic. And I’m not the least bit shocked when he gestures for me to come to the hostess stand. “Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Pascal.”

Bastien smirks and winks at me. So damn smug.

We’re escorted to the patio and seated at the table with the best view of the sunset. “Did you have to promise the hostess a kiss to get this table?”

He chuckles. “I told her that my wife and I were celebrating a successful in vitro after years of trying to conceive.”

It’s no wonder she looked at me the way she did. “She might have believed that until she saw your wife who looks twelve.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think that one out very well. But we got this great table so who cares, Mrs. Pascal?”

“I spend as much time being Mrs. Pascal as I do being Miss Middleton. I might as well be your better half the way I’m always mistaken for being your wife.”

“Maybe you should be.” His eyes don’t leave mine and he doesn’t crack a smile. He looks so serious. Like he means it?

No. No. No. The server appears, interrupting what Bastien was about to say next. “Hello. I’m Don and I’ll be your server. Do you need a minute or do you know what you want to drink?”

Bastien spouts off his usual beer and my favorite cocktail. He doesn’t even have to ask me anymore. That’s how well he knows me.

Mrs. Bastien Pascal. A girl can wish and hope and dream.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

Rose is still in the bathroom when I pull the covers back and get into the bed we’re going to share for the next seven nights. If I were a smarter man, I would have booked this trip for much longer.

I told her I reserved one bedroom because we end up in the same bed half the time anyway. That’s only a half-truth. I do believe it’s ridiculous to sleep in separate rooms when I’ll be in her bed by one o’clock. But I also did it this way because I want to start out in the same bed.

It’s ridiculous how excited I am to have her beside me all night. Not that I think this will cause anything more than the usual to happen between us.

Rose has called out to me in the middle of the night for thirteen months. I promised her I would be there whenever she needed me. And I’ve never let her down. Not once.

I’ve been thinking about our relationship and agreement a lot lately. We were both very clear about what we wanted and expected in the beginning, but many of our unbending boundaries have been replaced by lines in the sand that have been wiped away. I’m no longer certain what she labels a hard limit.

I often wonder what it would be like if she left her bedroom and moved into mine. There’s no question that she’s more at ease when I’m lying next to her. I think feeling safe when she falls asleep would help prevent her nightmares all together. And I know I would prefer to stop playing musical beds in the middle of the night.

I suppose one might call this a test. An experiment of sorts—to feel it out—to see if asking her to move to my bed is the right step for both of us.

I’m reading my latest email from work when Rose comes out of the bathroom. I want so badly to look up from my phone and see which piece of sleepwear she’s wearing. But I don’t. I’m worried it’ll be that sexy black lace gown. And I’m afraid she’ll see me react.

“Which tour are we doing tomorrow?”

“Helicopter.”

She goes to the closet, her back turned to me, and I take the opportunity to steal a glance without her knowing.

Holy. Shit.

She’s wearing the thin white gown. I didn’t think it looked sexy when it was hanging on a rack in her closet but I was greatly deceived.

She’s standing between the bathroom’s vanity light and me. Her body’s silhouette beneath the nearly transparent fabric is completely visible. Every curve.

God help me.

“I think I’ll wear the romper tomorrow. It’s probably my best helicopter wear, if there’s such a thing.”

She glances over her shoulder—and dammit—catches me staring at her. I quickly look back at my phone but I’m already caught. We both know it but I make an attempt to cover by asking her to show me her outfit.

She takes it from the closet and holds it up to her body. “Thoughts?”

It’s peach with some white lacy stuff over the shoulders. “You’ll look beautiful in that.”

A huge smile spreads across her face, as it always does when she hears me tell her she’s beautiful. She never hides her delight—one reason I enjoy saying it so often.

She gets into bed beside me. “Mmm. This is very comfy.”

“Not bad for a hotel but it’s no competition for mine.”

“You know how much I love my bed, but yours? Dear God, that thing is amazing.”

Rose doesn’t come into my bedroom often but when she does, she always comments on how comfortable my mattress is. I could offer to buy her one like mine but I think it would just be simpler if she moved into my room with me. Yes. I’m an opportunist, and yes, I like that idea very much.

She grew up sleeping on a filthy mattress on the floor. I think it’s the reason she always takes notice of different beds.

“You should try sleeping in mine sometime.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. This sleeping together full-time thing might not be for us.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been getting the raw end of the deal all this time, leaving your room to come to mine. It should be the other way around.”

Maybe you should just move into my suite. I want to say the words so badly but I need to see how this week goes first. Once she makes the move, there is no going back. I can’t ask her to return to her room. Won’t.

“Work bugging you?”

“You could say that. Wendy has emailed me six times today. She says we need to FaceTime in the morning.”

Rose’s jaw is fixed. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.” I turn my phone so she can see the message. “We need to FaceTime in the morning. Right there in black and white.”

I thought having Rose as my live-in girlfriend would end Wendy’s quest to lure me back to her bed. Wrong. She has continued to pursue me despite seeing us together at PPI events and Rose becoming my personal assistant.

Rose and I don’t publicly display our affection for one another. We aren’t lovers so it’s understandable. To us. I think Wendy sees our lack of affection as a weakness in our relationship. An open door for her to step through and try to push Rose aside. I just wish she’d move on. I haven’t been interested in Wendy for years now.

“Is she aware that you’re on vacation in Hawaii with your girlfriend?” Her voice is getting that high-pitched squeak that happens every time we talk about Wendy.

“She’s very aware. I told her yesterday before I left the office.”

“She’s trying to sabotage our time together. You see that, don’t you?”

I don’t need Rose to convince me. “Of course I see it.”

“She still wants you. And she doesn’t care that we’re a couple. Or that we live together.”

“I think she speculates our relationship isn’t what we say it is. We don’t touch or hug or kiss. We act like a brother and sister as far as she’s concerned.” Not because that’s what I want. I’d love nothing more than to touch Rose all day instead of looking at her from across the room.

“Go ahead. Have your FaceTime with her in the morning.”

I hear the irritation in her voice. I’m not sure if it’s directed at Wendy or me, but I won’t let that woman spoil my trip with Rose. “I wasn’t planning to call her. I have capable employees who take care of my business while I’m away. This is our time.”

“I want you to, Bash. She gets this one interruption and then no more.”

“Why?”

I sense mischief. Rose is scheming. “Don’t worry about why.”

“What are you going to do?”

She shrugs and gives me an expression that screams innocence. But I know better. “Who says I’m going to do anything?”

“Your tone says so. And that face.”

She giggles. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see. But do it on your laptop. Not your phone.”

There is no telling what she is going to do. Rose isn’t cruel, but she despises Wendy, and has probably hit the limit of her patience with Wendy’s antics.

Rose reaches over her head to adjust her pillow. The fabric of her gown sticks to her body and hugs every curve. “The exhaustion of traveling all day is kicking my butt. I’m going to sleep.”

She leans over to kiss the side of my face and hesitates for the briefest of moments before pulling back. During her hesitancy, I seriously consider grabbing the back of her head and pulling us together closely to do all the things I’ve been fantasizing about for the last several months.

“Thank you, Bash.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You can leave the lamp on to work by if you want. It won’t bother me.”

“I won’t be long. Just going to respond to Wendy’s email and schedule the FaceTime.”

“Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

She slides down in the bed, turning on her side so her back is to me, and pushes her hair off her neck, shoulders, and back so they’re completely exposed. Her bare skin calls to me to be caressed. Kissed. Loved.

Oh, God. What was I thinking when I decided that sharing a bed would be a good idea?

I won’t be able to see her if I turn off the light. Darkness will be my only saving grace.

I put my phone on the charger and flip the off switch on the lamp. I then discover that the absence of light keeps me from seeing her but it does nothing for the images I have of her in my head.

Come on, Pascal. Stop having lewd thoughts about Rose. You don’t have the right to think about those soft curves beneath her gown. Or the way her skin would feel pressed against yours. Or what it would be like to disappear inside her.

You know you can’t fall in love with Rose.

But you also know it’s too late.

You already have, you stupid fool. She’s already your everything.

I spend as much time being Mrs. Pascal as I do being Miss Middleton. I might as well be your better half the way I’m always mistaken for being your wife.”

Maybe you should be.

I shouldn’t have said that. But damn if I didn’t mean it.

If things were different—if I weren’t riding this ALS train—I would make Rose mine forever and never let her go. To hell with the age difference. I would marry her and put Cajun babies inside her and love her hard for the rest of our lives.

I would make her my Mrs. Pascal.

But if I weren’t sick, I wouldn’t have even met Rose. I wouldn’t have contacted Vale and paid two million dollars to satisfy my need to not be alone. I wouldn’t have her in my bed. In my life. In my heart.

My disease brought her into my life. It’s hard to wish it away when doing so would mean wishing her away as well.

Things aren’t different and they never will be. I’m going to become someone’s problem and there’s not a damn thing that can stop that.

I love Rose too much to become her burden.

My body’s decline is happening, but until it worsens I’m going to do any and everything I can to make Rose happy.

She didn’t look aghast at the idea of being my wife. Would that make Rose happy? Is that what she wants?

She says she has no intentions of ever leaving me. Isn’t that what a wife does? Stands by her significant other in good times and bad?

There are going to be some bad times ahead. And I’m certain they’re coming sooner rather than later.

***

“Bastien, I can’t believe you told me on Monday afternoon that you were leaving the next morning. And for a whole week. What kind of boss does that?” What kind of employee says that to her boss?

“Wendy, I own PPI, which makes me your employer. I don’t have to ask anyone’s permission if I want to take a vacation for a week.”

“You used to never take off. Or dump all this work on me.” That’s what this is about? The extra workload.

“I never took off because I was a workaholic who didn’t have a life.”

“Your focus isn’t on PPI anymore. That’s a problem.”

Damn, she’s brave to tell me my lack of focus is a problem. She believes being David’s daughter gives her the right to say and do whatever she likes. And it has bought her my leniency, but I’m growing tired of her attitude and behavior. “My company will always be important to me but I don’t eat, sleep, and breathe PPI anymore. There’s more to life than working all the time, and I plan on enjoying it.”

“That’s right, Bastien. There is more to life than working and we used to do a hell of a job enjoying it together.”

I called Wendy because I thought she needed to discuss a work-related problem. Not beat this dead horse. “Don’t go there again.”

“But I want to go there again, Bastien.” I can’t believe she’s trying this with me. Why can this woman not take no for an answer?

I’ve declined every advance she’s made since her husband left, but I’m seeing that’s never going to be enough. I need to convince her that there’s only room for one woman in my life: Rose.

“You and I are a thing of the past. It’s never going to happen again. I’m in love with Rose.”

Wendy knows Rose has been living with me more than a year and I don’t understand why it hasn’t put a stop to this nonsense. Rose told me I could tell Wendy anything I wanted about our relationship if it helped to get her off my back. Yes, I’m saying I love Rose to end this with Wendy but it’s not a lie.

“She’s a little gold digger who’s after your money.”

Good grief. This woman. I’m thankful I decided to FaceTime Wendy while Rose is in the shower. I don’t want her to hear the hateful things she is saying about her.

Wendy doesn’t get the opportunity to bully Rose at PPI because she works so closely with me in my office. I wonder just how far Wendy would take it if that weren’t the case.

“You know nothing about Rose or our relationship. You don’t get to have an opinion about her or us.”

“Oh, trust me. I have an opinion where that little harlot is concerned.”

I’ve fired people for so much less. And I would now too if she weren’t David’s daughter. But regardless of who her father is, it’s time to establish repercussions for her behavior. I’ve allowed her far too much leniency. “You and I are going to need to have a meeting when I get back.”

“Gladly.”

A streak of white in my peripheral vision catches my attention. “Are you FaceTiming with her?” Rose’s voice is a whisper but I don’t fail to hear the anger.

I nod slightly so Wendy doesn’t realize Rose is standing in the room. I’m afraid of what she might say if she believes she’s within earshot.

“How can you think you have something real or serious with that tramp?”

I don’t answer Wendy because I’m watching Rose come toward me. Wearing only a towel. “She needs a visual so she’ll understand why you’re no longer interested in screwing around with her.”

Rose sits on top of me with her legs spread, straddling my body, her naked back exposed to my laptop. “What are you doing?”

“Giving Wendy a show she won’t forget. She’ll finally understand that I’m the only woman in your life and that there’s no room for her because your hands are full of me,” she whispers.

I’ve never heard her say anything like that.

It’s hot as hell.

Thank you, Wendy, for being a total bitch who won’t accept a no.

Rose drops her towel and wraps her arms around my shoulders, pressing her bare breasts against me with her chest heaving up and down against mine.

“Kiss me.” I’m stunned by the sudden and unexpected urgency in her voice. It sounds real. Authentic.

She watches my eyes as though she’s waiting to see if I will or not. She has no idea that I’ve been wanting to do this for almost a year. Fantasized about it night and day.

Need to savor this moment. Make it last.

I cup her jaw and press my fingers into her cheeks so her lips pucker outward. My thumb rubs back and forth over her lips. “So damn beautiful.”

I release her face and move my arms to wrap around her naked body, pulling her against me. Hard. I grasp her wet hair in my fist and pull so she’s held in place, offering me her delicate neck.

With her back arched, she moves closer to me, and moans when my mouth nibbles the soft skin of her neck.

With my fingers fisted in her nape, I pull her head down until she’s positioned perfectly for my lips to find hers. Her mouth instantly opens and her tongue meets mine. Together, they roll against one another in soft, wet waves.

This may be an act on her behalf but my body doesn’t understand that. It’s doing the only thing it knows how to do with a woman who turns me on. Respond.

My hands leave the back of her head and glide down her sides until they find her cheeks, and I dig the tips of my fingers into her flesh.

“Ohh.” The sound is low. Faint. Hushed. Like maybe she didn’t mean for it to slip out.

“You’re so damn sexy, Rose.”

I move my mouth to her shoulder and peek at my laptop. Wendy’s face has disappeared from my screen, and I’m glad we’re no longer being watched.

I’m not ready to stop what we’re doing but to push on would be taking advantage of Rose. She’s had enough of that in her life.

It’s disappointing this has to end.

And so damn frustrating.

I pull away to tell Rose that Wendy has ended the call and her mouth lands on the side of my neck below my ear. Okay. Just a few more seconds of this and then I’ll tell her.

I let Rose kiss me longer than I should. It just feels so damn good—the touch, the connection, the feelings. I don’t want any of this to end. Ever.

But it has to. Even if it makes me feel really, really, really good.

Doesn’t matter how much I love Rose. Letting this go on is still the equivalent of using her.

I press my forehead to hers as I grab the edges of her towel and wrap it around her naked body. “I’d say our little show worked. She ended the call without a word.”

Rose refolds the edge of her towel around her breasts and giggles. “I’m glad. She’s a mean ole twat.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll understand what you mean to me after seeing that, hot pants.”

“I’m not wearing any pants, ass grabber.” The huge smile she’s trying to subdue tells me she isn’t upset I got a little grabby. God, her ass felt great in my hands.

“Liked that, did ya?” I chuckle when I lift her towel to smack her bare cheek, evoking a high-pitched squeal out of her. I can’t resist touching it again, even if it is only a quick swat.

“Finish getting ready. We gotta run if we’re going to make our helicopter tour.”

“Yes, sir.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

I’m so sad to see the best week of my life come to an end. Bastien and I can’t stay here forever. It’s called vacation for a reason. It always comes to an end.

Hawaii was everything I dreamed it would be. Blue bodies of water. White sand. Lush green vegetation. Waterfalls rushing down into a stunning body of water. Complete paradise. It’s nearly impossible to believe that the islands were once nothing more than rock without any kinds of plants or flora.

It will forever go down as my best vacation, but mostly because I was with the man I love.

Our days have been packed with fun and adventure. But when the night comes, the intense sexual tension is nearly choking. It intensifies each night. Every time I climb into bed, I think it’ll be the night he makes a move. But, no.

He busies himself on that damn phone every night when I come out of the bathroom, acting as though he’s too preoccupied with emails to pay attention to me. But I see him looking. And I know he likes what he sees. I can’t wait until he gets a peek at me in the black lace gown tonight. I dare him to act as though he doesn’t have time to look at me.

It’s our last day in Hawaii. I’ve had all week to think about it and I’m certain of what I want. His mouth on mine. Him peeling my clothes from my body. Feeling the weight of him pressing me into the bed while he moves in and out of me.

If it’s going to happen, tonight is the night. And I very much want it to happen. Happy birthday to me.

I walk the aisles of the hotel convenience store looking for Bastien and find him browsing in the cosmetics section. “Looking for some new lip gloss?”

“I ran out this morning.”

“You can borrow mine. All you had to do was ask.”

“I’m looking for ChapStick, hot pants.”

Hot pants. He’s been calling me that all week. It’s funny but I like it. Reminds me of our first morning here. Climbing on top of him and kissing him like crazy was a bold move, one I have not second-guessed all week.

Thirteen months together and that was our first intimate encounter—at least a physical one. We’ve had countless moments I consider emotionally intimate. I hold each and every one of them dear but this—this was something else. Touching him. Kissing him. Holding him. Hearing the noises he makes when he’s turned on. It was . . . everything.

And it was also pretend.

Except it wasn’t pretend for me.

“Give me a sec to grab some motion sickness medication for our flight home and I’ll meet you at the checkout counter.” Still can’t believe I got so queasy on the flight here.

I walk the aisle and stop when I see the contraceptives. I look both ways like a kid about to get caught doing something bad before I pluck a box of condoms from the shelf. We need these. But I can’t toss them on the checkout counter in front of Bastien.

I don’t believe I’m the only one feeling the sexual tension between us. I bet he’s already been down here and bought some of these bad boys for tonight.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Fingers crossed.

I quickly shove the box of condoms back on the shelf when I see him coming down the aisle toward me. “Motion sickness medication isn’t on this aisle.”

I walk toward him with my head down—face pulsating, heart pounding—hoping he’ll turn and walk in the opposite direction. All he has to do is see the products on the shelf to know what I was looking at. Shit.

He holds up a foil square. “Is that what you want?”

I nearly fall over because the travel size portion of motion sickness medication so strongly resembles a condom wrapper. “Umm . . . yeah. Perfect.”

“Is there anything else you need?” I hear an underlying tone in his voice—meaning he has probably noticed the contraceptives on the shelf behind me.

I busy myself with looking at over the counter pain relief medication. “I’m good. Is there anything you think you need?”

“Just came for the ChapStick.”

I’m at least going to give him the opportunity to buy condoms if he hasn’t already. “Mind if I head up to the room while you check out? I need to hop in the shower and shave my legs before we go to the beach.” Legs won’t be the only thing I need to shave since I’m wearing the skimpy bikini Bastien bought me for my birthday.

“Sure.”

I walk away, smiling on the inside and out. Tonight is going to make this the best birthday ever.

***

I look in the mirror and smile as I recall how we spent our last day in Hawaii.

We were nothing more than beach bums. And I loved every second. Today has been my favorite day by far. Probably because we were constantly touching each other in one form or another. Riding his back in the ocean. Arms and legs wrapped around his front. Our pinkie fingers barely touching while we lay side by side on the sand. It’s as though we couldn’t not touch in some kind of way.

Now he’s taking me to dinner in the hotel’s five-star restaurant. Not that that really impresses either of us. We’d rather be eating at home but this is a nice second.

“Our reservation is in ten minutes.”

I’m running late; I just couldn’t make myself leave the beach. “I need a few more minutes to get ready. Head down to the restaurant and check in for us. I’ll hurry.”

“I will if you promise you won’t stand me up.”

“I promise I won’t stand you up, ass grabber,” I call out from the bathroom.

Bastien has been exceptionally playful and silly on this trip. I love it.

“They probably won’t seat me until you’re there. I’ll wait for you in the bar.”

“No worries. I’ll find you.”

I sort of want to kick myself. I’ve saved my sexiest dress for tonight and now I have to rush to get ready. I really wanted to look my best and now it’s not going to happen unless I make myself late.

Bastien doesn’t like tardiness. But maybe he’ll forgive me this one time if it’s because I’m trying to look glamorous for him. No. Make that irresistible.

Backless black dress dipping so low it should be illegal. One-hundred-sixty-millimeter Louboutin ankle boots. Sun-kissed skin. Thankfully, I’m not incredibly late, and look pretty good for a rush job.

As promised, I find him in the bar. “Made it.”

Bastien leans over and kisses the side of my face. “That was fast.”

“Told you I’d hurry.”

“Can’t tell. You look beautiful, as always.” I smile. Big. Love hearing his praises.

“You look very handsome. I didn’t get to see you before you left the penthouse.”

“Wanted to look good for my birthday girl here.”

My birthday girl. I love hearing him say things like that. Anything pertaining to me being his is all right by me.

Bastien slides off the stool. “I think they’re ready to seat us.”

“Good because I’m starving.” For food and for him.

I don’t have exact memories of my only sexual experience, but it left a deep gaping wound in my soul. I thought I’d never find a man whom I could trust with my heart, but especially my body. A man I could respect. A man I could love. One who would take away my fear of intimacy because I knew he cared deeply about me.

Bastien is that man.

I’ve tasted him. Felt him harden beneath my body. And I wasn’t frightened.

I am ready for this.

***

Bastien holds my hands and leads me toward the sofa. “Sit. I have a birthday surprise for you.”

“This trip is far more than enough. You’ve spoiled me so much already.” I grin. “But I’m willing to be spoiled a little more.”

“I’ve given you the luxurious stuff. It’s time for the gift that matters.”

The gift that matters. The one I’ve been not so patiently waiting for. Can’t wait to see what this beautiful man has come up with this time. “Something you bought here or brought from home?”

“Not telling. You’ll have to open it and find out.”

He places a small Bastien-wrapped box in my hand. Funny how I always feel a little warmer inside each time I see one of his wrapping jobs.

I rip the paper away to reveal a ring box. I’m not silly. I don’t think for a moment it’s an engagement ring but my heart still skips a beat.

I waste no time cracking the box open.

White gold ring. Small diamonds. Vintage.

Stunning.

“It was my mother’s first wedding ring. The one my father gave her before he made his fortune. It’s the one she treasured.”

“Bastien . . .”

“Don’t you dare say you can’t accept it.” He takes the box from me and removes the band. He grasps my hand in his and pushes it onto my wedding ring finger. My. Wedding. Ring. Finger. “This is exactly where this ring belongs. On you.” Oh God. If I didn’t love this man before, there would be no choice now. How did I get so damn lucky? How?

All of my fears about this being our last trip before he sends me away are eradicated. He wouldn’t give me something so precious if he was preparing to say goodbye.

I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. “It’s beautiful, Bash. I will treasure it just as your mother did.”

“I know you will.”

I hold tightly, hoping he will kiss me. I wait. And wait some more. But he doesn’t make a move. And I don’t either; I’m too frightened.

This is so confusing. Bastien just gave me his mother’s wedding ring. He placed it on my wedding ring finger. If he were going to take things to the next level, this would have been the perfect time. Yet he isn’t. Have I read him wrong?

“Our flight is early. We have to be up in six hours. We should probably try to get some sleep.”

It’s not going to happen. He doesn’t have anything but rest on his mind. “Right.”

I’m down to my last piece of sleepwear—the black lace gown. It’s sexy as all get out . . . and will apparently be wasted on sleep. But whatever. This has been the trip of a lifetime. I will never forget these moments with Bastien as long as I live.

I was never promised love or a happily ever after, and if this time together is what Bastien wants to give to me? I’m the luckiest woman in the world.

Heading to the bathroom, I feel a little wobbly. I haven’t tried the sexy gown on but I know it’s going to be revealing. No way it won’t be.

I do my bedtime ritual and pull the gown over my head. Holy shizzle. This thing is sheer. You can see everything through the lace down to the skimpy matching thong. I don’t know if I can walk out there in this. It feels so . . . shameful. And humiliating, considering he has made it clear he isn’t interested in sex with me.

He can give me a ring, but not his heart. Not his body.

But I have received so much more than I ever imagined at the beginning. Marie-Grace’s apron. Her recipes. Her treasured wedding ring. Bastien gave me these things because he cares for me. I don’t doubt the significance of them for a second. Maybe this is his way of loving me as much as he can.

I take one last look in the mirror and remind myself I didn’t choose this nightgown. He knows that. It’s the only reason I’m going to wear it in front of him after pretty much being told to get in bed and go to sleep.

Not saying one word or apologizing for wearing something so revealing. I’m going out there, getting in bed, and going to sleep. Just like he suggested.

I open the bathroom door, and just like every other night, Bastien is on his phone. Busying himself. I think a ploy to avoid looking at me in the sexy sleepwear Candace sent. Tonight, I actually appreciate him not looking at me so I can make a dash for the bed.

He looks up from his phone and his eyes zoom in on the gown. On me. On my near nakedness.

I cross my arms over my chest and open my mouth to say something. But nothing comes out.

“Wow.”

I’m not sure if that’s a good wow or a bad wow but it forces me to say something. “I know. Revealing. I debated coming out in it.”

“Spin. Slowly.”

My heart pumps like crazy as I put my arms down and turn so he can get a three sixty.

“That little number leaves nothing to question, does it? Candace gets a bonus when we get back.” He chuckles.

Bastien knows me so well. He picked up on my discomfort and this is his way of bringing me ease. Humor. I know because it’s his way with me. Always.

But I don’t feel the least bit at ease.

I want him. I want him to want me. And I don’t think he does.

I get into bed and bring the linens nearly up to my chin. “We always have separate rooms when we travel. I didn’t know we’d be sharing this time. I would have brought sleepwear that covered me if I had known.”

“I love everything you’ve worn this week.” He pauses a few seconds before continuing. “Especially this one. I hope you’ll wear it again after we’re home.” He does?

The Hawaii Bastien and Rose are completely different people than the New Orleans Bastien and Rose. We touch. Flirt. Pretend I’m Mrs. Pascal. I adore this version of us.

I open my hand and admire the wedding ring on my finger. “I love everything about who we’ve become this week.”

“I do too.” He’s noticed the difference as well?

“Our relationship has been different here. I don’t want that to end when we go home.”

“I don’t want it to end either.” Yes.

“Then don’t let it, Bash. This is who I want to be after we’re back in New Orleans.” Plus so much more.

“It’s easy to forget the real world when you’re in paradise. When we go home, reality will set in again.”

Reality. He means his illness.

“Paradise is nice. I’ve loved every minute we’ve spent here but real, everyday life is what I want with you.” It’s no different than me loving the luxurious gifts he gives me but treasuring the ones from the heart.

“Everyday life with me down the road isn’t going to be a walk in the park.”

“I don’t think any relationship is always a walk in the park. They take work on both parts. And I’ve told you, Bash. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be alive. And with me.”

For once, he doesn’t argue. And I think I see a fracture in the wall that divides us—the obstacle that always prevents us from becoming . . . more.

His barricade is crumbling. Tumbling down piece by piece. I want to break it down until nothing remains.

I roll to my stomach and get on my hands and knees to crawl to him. I still can’t believe how nervous I get every time we’re this close. The butterflies in my stomach come alive and flutter out of control.

“You don’t need this,” I tell him as I take his phone from his hand and put it away on the bedside table.

His eyes are locked on mine when I lick my lips and lean forward to press them to his. Just the surface of lips on lips until we simultaneously open and our tongues find one another.

Our kiss is slow. Seductive. Sultry.

Bastien grabs the back of my head and pulls me closer, deepening our kiss, making me want him desperately.

I move from all fours and toss one of my legs across him so I’m straddling his body. And he doesn’t stop me.

His hands are on my butt, his fingertips digging into my flesh just like the morning we pretended to make out on the couch. But this time he’s pulling me into him and rocking against me. Hard. I hold on tightly and move in counteraction with him.

His hands inch upward to shove my gown up and over my head, leaving me only in my black lace thong. He stops kissing me when I’m topless and gently palms my breasts. “So damn beautiful.”

Every cell. Every fiber. Every part of my makeup has ignited and is burning for him.

“Take off your shirt.” I’m dying to be pressed against him skin on skin.

He reaches overhead and pulls his shirt off in one fluid motion. God, his level of masculine beauty is just ridiculous. No one should be this good-looking.

I’ve seen Bastien shirtless countless times but I’ve never had free rein to touch him. I’m taking advantage.

I press my palms to his chest and circle his pecs, feeling the firm muscle beneath my hands. So hard. So strong. So manly. I move my hands down his chest, to his stomach and briefly explore before pushing my fingers into the waistband of his sleep pants. “Help me get these off.”

“Rose . . . we shouldn’t do this. It isn’t right.”

He can’t stop this now. “Who says this isn’t right?”

“It doesn’t make sense to move our relationship in this direction when we know I’m sick.”

“Please, Bash. I don’t care if you’re sick with ALS. I don’t care if you’re going to get sicker. I want you—I want this—and everything that goes along with it.”

“I’m afraid, Rose. Terrified it will be impossible to make you leave when the time comes.”

When the time comes.

No way. We are not having the death talk again. Not now. “It’s already an impossibility. I’m never leaving you, and you can’t make me.”

He pulls my face to his and presses his forehead to mine. “You’re so young. I don’t want to be your burden.”

“It’s not a burden when you love the person. And I love you, Bash. I’m in love with you.” I see the conflict behind his eyes but it’s unnecessary. I want him exactly as he is. “Don’t make me beg.”

Bastien grasps me around my waist and moves us so I’m lying on my back, him hovering above me. “I love you so much, Rose. I didn’t want to, but dammit, I do.”

Those words. I have wanted to hear them for so long. It almost hurts how happy I am.

He shoves his fingers into the band of my thong. Together, we push the fabric down my legs and then repeat the same deed with his bottoms.

I wrap my legs around him when he nestles his body between my thighs. Nothing separates us. This is actually happening.

“Can’t take it back once it’s done. I don’t want you to ever look back on this—or me—as a regret.”

I fist the top of his hair and pull his face down so we’re eye to eye. “I will never regret this. I will never regret you. I will never regret us.”

“Are you sure? I need you to be positive.”

“Never more sure of anything in my life. Now, shut up and make love to me.”

I embrace his body and welcome its weight on top of me. Skin on skin. Our bodies becoming one, the way they are intended to when the joining is an act of love.

Everything about this is right.

Everything about this is a dream come true.

Everything about this is the good kind of afraid.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

I lie on my back and Rose nuzzles into my side with her head on top of my chest—a different kind of affection from her post-nightmare snuggle. This one I like even more.

She turns her face and presses a kiss against my chest through her smile. Impossible for her to hide her happiness. I know because I feel the same.

When I look at this beautiful girl one word predominantly comes to mind. Mine.

I lace my fingers through hers and bring her hand up so I can look at the wedding band on her finger. I like seeing it there. She honors my mother by wearing it but my reason for putting it on her finger is two-fold. We aren’t married but it’s intended to be an outward symbol for other men. She’s taken. Don’t even try.

“Move in with me.”

She giggles. “I’m pretty sure I did that over a year ago.”

I’ve had Rose within my reach for over a year. I’ve been in love with her for more than half of that time. What a fool I’ve been for depriving myself of her touch. Her affection. Her love. “You’ve been my roommate who resides across the hall. I want you to be my lover and girlfriend who sleeps in my bed every night.”

She twists to look up at me. “I can’t remember. Do we have a clause for that?”

“We have a clause for anything we want to do.”

“Okay. I’ll be your best friend and lover and girlfriend and bedmate.” I like that combination a lot.

I lift my head and look over at the clock. “Shit, we have to get up in four hours. I don’t know what I was thinking when I booked an early flight out of here.”

“I don’t know either because I really don’t want to leave this bed anytime this week.”

“Well, one of us has to leave it and go down to get that pill.”

She clinches me tightly. “But I don’t want you to go. I’m not done with you yet.”

“We just had unprotected sex. You have to take an emergency contraceptive pill. No debate about it.”

“I know. I’m not debating it. Just being a little whiny about you leaving me instead of staying for more play.”

“Let’s get that pill and some condoms and then we’ll have some real fun.”

Going bare while Rose isn’t on birth control was the craziest, most wonderful thing I’ve ever done. The moment was perfect. Stopping to go downstairs for condoms wasn’t an option. I couldn’t stop. And she begged me not to. One mention of the pill she saw in the pharmacy section of the store downstairs was all it took to convince me to keep moving forward.

“You have to get on birth control as soon as possible.”

“I’ll make an appointment with a doctor the minute we’re home.”

I kiss her quickly and get out of bed. A pair of shorts, a T-shirt, a ball cap to hide my unruly hair, and I’m ready to roll. “Need anything else while I’m down there?”

“I guess I’m good.”

I lean over and kiss her once more. Love that I no longer have to resist. She’s mine to kiss whenever I want. “Be back in a minute.”

I come to a screeching halt and have a serious oh shit moment when I see the locked door of the convenience store. “Well, this is a problem.”

I take out my cell and phone Rose. “Store’s closed. I’m gonna have to get a cab and go to a pharmacy.”

“It’s so late. I don’t feel good about you leaving the resort in the middle of the night, Bash. It feels a little dangerous.”

“I’m not super excited about it either but it is what it is.”

“We’re leaving for the airport in a few hours. Why don’t you come back and we’ll leave half an hour earlier and stop by a pharmacy on the way to the airport?”

“How soon are you supposed to take the pill after sex?”

“The site said within seventy-two hours. It’s only been thirty minutes. I think we’re okay.”

Prolonging it a couple hours seems reasonable. I’m sure everyone doesn’t have sex and then immediately pop out of bed to run down to the pharmacy. “Seems like an acceptable alternative.”

“Good. Because I’m not finished with you.”

“Why don’t you tell me all the ways you’re not finished with me while I’m on my way back to the room?”

I pick up my pace when she begins describing her mouth on my skin, starting at my chest and moving lower and lower.

She smiles when she sees me standing in the doorway listening. “Oh, dear. I’ve gotta go. My boyfriend just caught me talking dirty to you.”

I pull my shirt over my head. “What was that you mentioned doing with your mouth? Remind me what you said.”

“If you come here, I’ll show you instead.”

I toss my shirt in the floor and kick out of my shorts. “Totally down with that.”

***

I open my eyes and see three red glowing numbers. Five thirteen. Not the three I need to see.

“Shit, Rose. Get up. We overslept.”

“Hmm?” she groans.

“Get up, baby girl. We’re running late. We’ve gotta book it if we’re going to make our flight.”

Damn. I can’t believe I fell asleep.

It was really late—or early—when Rose and I stopped fooling around. I didn’t set the alarm because I was going to stick it out for the hour rather than go to sleep.

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

I told Rose to get a little rest and I’d wake her when it was time to get up. But she felt so good curled around me. And I was so relaxed after getting off three times. God, it had been so long. I couldn’t stop myself from drifting off into a Rose-induced orgasm coma.

“Can we make it?”

“We should be able to if we walk out of here within the next fifteen minutes. I’m calling for a bellhop and a taxi so we can roll ASAP.” I hate being late.

Rose goes to her drawer of clothes and yanks out a top and bottom. “Sorry but it’s going to be a leggings, tunic, and messy bun day. I won’t be looking my best.”

“Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You’re always beautiful to me.”

Rose catches my attention when she pulls a pair of black lace panties up her legs. She wiggles her butt to adjust them after they’re in place. So sexy. “I smell like you.” She grins. “And like sex. Lots of it.”

Sweat and semen on a woman. Nothing in the world like the mix of those scents.

Last night was a new experience for Rose. And for me, too. We were two people in love, making love. And I didn’t get enough. I want more. A lot more.

“I need a shower.”

“No time. You get to smell like me until we get home.” I don’t hate that she’ll have my mark on her all day.

A wicked grin grows on her face. “A reminder of last night.”

I have no idea how we pulled it off but we are walking out the door within fifteen minutes of crawling out of bed. “Good job, baby girl. I think we’re going to make it.”

Rose holds up her hand for a high five. “Team work, Pascal.”

“We make a great team.” And have from the time she came into my life. God, I’m thankful I asked Vale for Rose.

We make our flight with about ten minutes to spare. Not bad for someone running more than an hour later than originally planned.

The minute we’re in the air, Rose’s head leaves my shoulder and we recline our seats. “See you in Dallas.”

“Sweet dreams.”

I’m on the verge of dozing off when I hear Rose’s gasp and feel her jolt straight up in her seat. “The pill.”

My eyes pop open and I turn to look at her. Oh, shit. That’s not good. “You’re supposed to take it within how many hours?”

“Seventy-two.”

I do some quick math in my head. “When we get into New Orleans, it’ll be about eighteen hours after the first time. You’re still well within the recommended timeframe. We’re all good.”

She cups her hands over her forehead. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe we did that.”

“It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Nobody’s fault, Bash. Both of us got caught up in the fun. I’ll take the pill as soon as we’re home and it’ll be fine. No more worries.”

Nothing we can do about it in the air with an eight-hour flight ahead of us. “You’re right. Go to sleep, baby. We’ll take care of it when we get home.”

***

We’ve slept off and on during the eight-hour flight to Dallas, mostly only waking during delivery of meals and then returning to sleep again soon after. I’m still exhausted. Not just from the night of great sex.

I haven’t given my body the rest it demands.

I’m on my third or fourth round of sleep since we departed Honolulu when the overhead announcement wakes us to announce inclement weather in Dallas. We’ll be circling until cleared for landing.

“How long is our layover?” Rose asks.

“An hour. Maybe an hour and fifteen minutes tops.”

“I might seriously cry if we miss our connection. I want to be home so badly.”

I know the feeling. I can’t wait to walk through the doors of our home. “I’m ready to get there too but they can’t control the weather. Gotta do what’s safe.”

We circle until we’re forced to another airport to land for fuel. “Oh, Bash. There’s no way we’re making our connection now. We’ll be booked on another flight. I bet we don’t get home until bedtime.”

“Definitely looking like it could go in that direction. Go back to sleep if you can.”

“I think I will. That at least helps time pass a little faster.”

I bring her hand to my mouth for a kiss. “Love you, baby girl.”

“Love you too.”

Rose curls into a ball around her pillow against the window. Within minutes, I hear steady breath. And then a soft snore. I’ve seen a drastic change in her sleeping pattern since she first came to live with me. Once restless and turbulent, she’s now relaxed and calm. She didn’t have a single nightmare this entire week, so I’d say my theory about her feeling safe at the onset of sleep is the remedy she needs for preventing her nighttime terrors.

I’m feeling pretty rested so I turn on a television show instead of trying to return to sleep.

The flight attendant makes her way around the first class cabin. “May I get you or your wife anything while we’re refueling?”

Rose is dead to the world.

My wife. I can’t believe how much I like hearing Rose called that. “I think my wife is okay but I’ll take a Jack and Coke.”

One missed connection. One rescheduled flight. Two delays. Getting home has been a challenge but we’re finally back in New Orleans . . . six hours later than expected.

I’m a little more at ease now that Rose has taken the emergency contraceptive pill but she took it twenty-three hours later than originally intended. I’ve never had to worry about that before. Never been ungloved until her.

I allowed myself to get lost in Rose last night. I don’t regret what happened. I would do it again—and I plan to often—but responsibly from this point on.

We walk through the door and Rose holds out her arms. “Hawaii was fun, but God, it feels good to be home.”

“Agreed.”

“I know it’s late but I’m going to die if I don’t get a shower before bed. I’m a dirty girl.”

“I happen to like dirty girls. Very much.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Not this kind of dirty.”

Rose has a thing about feeling unclean. Not sure if it’s connected more to her childhood or when she was living homeless on the streets. “Go take a shower. I’ll get our bags out of the car and bring them up.”

“Will it bother you if I shower in my bathroom since that’s where all my stuff is? I don’t feel like hauling everything over tonight.”

Hauling her stuff over. I’m going to have girl junk all over my space for the first time ever. Oddly, I’m excited about it.

“That’s fine. We’ll move your stuff tomorrow.”

The shower is running when I bring Rose’s luggage into her soon to be former bedroom. I lift her suitcase to place it on the footstool and it slips from my grip, crashing to the floor.

“Bash?”

“Just me. Suitcase slipped out of my hand.” I look at my fist, opening and closing my hand, and notice an increase in the previous tremor. “Everything’s okay. Just me being a bit clumsy.”

This is how it’s going to happen. Progressive. Degenerative. Deficit. A tremor today. Complete loss of muscle control . . . I don’t know when.

Doesn’t matter if I go down fighting. I’m still going down. This disease will defeat me; there is no beating it. I hate that I’m at its mercy . . . especially considering I feel like I’m living for the first time ever.

Because of her love. My shelter from the storm. My beacon in the dark. My reservoir when I’m drowning.

Rose doesn’t care. She loves me. Wants to be here with me, just as I am—deficits and all.

But is that what I want? Is that what I want for her?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks. Moving and settling into Bastien’s room. Waiting for my period. Finally getting my period. Having a matchstick jabbed under my skin today—okay, not a matchstick. A birth-control implant. But it looks like a matchstick.

Get a birth-control implant, they said. It won’t hurt that much, they said. They lied.

Bastien and I discussed our contraceptive options. He said the birth control choice was up to me since it’s my body, but I could tell he wanted me to go with one I couldn’t blunder.

Bastien looks at the insertion site in my skin. “I don’t like the way this looks. Your arm is red and swollen. And it looks like there’s a bruise forming under the skin.”

I lift my arm to take a look. “The nurse said it would be like this for a few days. It’s normal.”

“So weird that they can put something like that under your skin to give you four years of get-it-and-forget-it birth control. This thing is going to outlast me.”

I hate when he makes jokes like that. “It isn’t funny. Not even a little bit.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He holds his arms out for me. “Come here.”

I stand motionless for a moment before going to him. He puts his arms around me and squeezes when I reach him. “You can’t say things like that to me. I don’t like it.” No. I hate it.

“I know you don’t but it’s my way of keeping it real. There are times when I think you forget that I’m sick.”

“I never have to be reminded the ALS is real. Ever.” It’s always in the forefront of my mind. And I despise that. I wish I could forget it at times.

“You sometimes act like it isn’t part of my life.” He kisses the top of my head. “Part of our lives.”

I don’t see the need to bring it up unless there’s a problem. “I don’t dwell on it the way you do but that doesn’t mean I don’t acknowledge it as part of our lives.”

“I’ll stop with the ALS jokes.”

“I would greatly appreciate that.” I press a quick kiss against his mouth. “What will my sexy, hot boss have me do now that I’ve managed to drag myself into the office?”

Bastien rubs his thumb over my arm, below the implant. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t take it too hard on you. You were off work because you were having this done for me.”

“For us.” That brings a smile to his face.

“How long till it’s effective?” Why am I not shocked he’s asking that question?

“They said the timing with my period makes it effective immediately. No need for a backup method.”

“Mmm. I like that. A lot.” Bastien moves his hand to cup my butt.

Maybe I should clarify what that means. “It’s effective immediately because I’m still on my period.”

“Ah, should have known there would be some kind of catch.” He squeezes my butt. Hard. “I’ve never done that but I’m not afraid to try it with you.”

I’ve never done that but I’m not afraid to try it with you. I consider what those words mean. “You seriously like it so much that you don’t want to wait until my period is over?”

He chuckles. “Yes, Rose. I seriously like it that much.”

“Men are really weak creatures when it comes to getting a little.”

“No argument here.” He presses another quick kiss on my mouth and releases me. “I have a meeting with a client in twenty. I have to go.”

“Will you be gone the rest of the day?”

“Probably. This guy doesn’t know when to shut up.”

A bazillion emails. A pile of paperwork. Bastien out of the office will actually give me a chance to catch up without the distraction of him sitting ten feet away.

“I’ll call you when I know what time I’m picking you up.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Love you, baby girl.”

“Love you too.”

***

Bastien’s office is a mess. So unlike him. He typically borders on anal-retentive when it comes to the organization of his desk but he’s working in full-on catch-up mode to make up for the work days he missed.

He was out two additional days he wasn’t anticipating. One was spent moving my belongings across the hall. The second was because he wasn’t feeling well. He didn’t say it but I know the travel and physical strain of moving my things took a toll on him.

He functions more proficiently when there’s less chaos, as do I. Let’s straighten this mess for him.

I’m sitting in Bastien’s chair organizing the scattered papers on his desk when Wendy prances through the door without stopping to knock. So typical for her to bypass Helen. I can’t wait for Bastien to have his meeting with this bitch to establish firmer boundaries of behavior.

I laugh inside as I recall our exchange of words on my first day back to work after our Hawaii vacation.

“Have a good trip?”

“It was lovely. Very romantic. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday surprise.”

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Bash tells me pretty often that I am.”

“Well, let me tell you something, little girl. You aren’t the first one to drop a towel for Bastien Pascal.”

“Definitely not. But I am the one currently dropping it. And he takes great pleasure when I do.”

Boy, Wendy was pissed off after that conversation.

“Bash isn’t here. Is there something I can help you with?” Like my foot in your ass?

“What time did he say he would be back?”

“Said he’d be out the rest of the day with a client.”

Wendy sneers. “Priscilla George. I’d bet money he’s with her.”

“Maybe. He didn’t tell me the client’s name.” But he did say it was a guy who didn’t know when to shut up.

“I don’t imagine he would tell you anything about Priscilla George since they have history.”

I don’t know who this woman is, and Wendy is using her to bait me. But I won’t feed into it. “You’re welcome to leave a message for Bash with Helen.”

“Bash.” She laughs. “Calling him that proves just how unprofessional you are.”

I could mention how unprofessional it is to be disrespectful to your boss. Or try to sabotage your employer’s vacation while he’s away with his girlfriend. But I won’t. I’m not into lady drama.

“Like I said, you’re welcome to leave a message with Helen. She’s at her desk,” I point at the door, “which is out there.”

“Just so you know, he’s probably screwing Priscilla right now.”

Wendy doesn’t know Bastien is sick. She doesn’t know that he was my best friend long before he became my lover. And she doesn’t know that it’s impossible for her to ever shake my faith in what we have together.

I pick up the receiver and push the button to page Bastien’s secretary. “Hey, Helen. I think Wendy needs to leave a message for Mr. Pascal.” I arch a brow when I say his name. “Should I send her to your desk?”

“I’ll take care of her, Miss Middleton.” Helen lowers her voice. “I tried to tell her Mr. Pascal wasn’t in there—that it was only you—but she walked right past me like I didn’t say a word.”

“It’s okay, Helen. She’s on her way out.” I hang up and look at Wendy. “She’ll see you now.”

“I can’t wait until he gets rid of you. And trust me, he will. I guarantee you’ll be gone by spring.”

I look at the diamond band he placed on my finger the night of my birthday. The night we made love the first time. This ring says otherwise. But I won’t waste my breath trying to convince this woman of something she’ll never believe. Or understand. Because frankly, I couldn’t care less what she thinks about me and my relationship with Bastien.

“Would you please shut the door on your way out?”

“Shut the door your own damn self.” She turns and leaves, this time no prance in her step. Woo, that is one nasty wench. I’m not sure what Bastien ever saw in her.

I spend the better part of the day organizing Bastien’s office. The best part of the day? Finding three photos of us in the top drawer of his desk. Just another bit of reinforcement proving what we have.

Wendy is wrong. I won’t be gone by spring. But with any luck, maybe she will be.

More importantly, Bastien won’t be gone either. He’s going to be around for a long time. Healthy and happy. I’m going to make sure of that.

***

I’m stepping out of the shower to dry off when Bastien comes into the bathroom. “What does my girl want for breakfast?”

“Hmm . . . white chocolate Marscapone French toast with blackberries. And a side of bacon.”

My choice makes him laugh. “Well, at least you don’t ask for much.”

“When a fine chef asks what you want, would it be right to insult him by asking for Fruit Loops?”

“I would never feed my girl processed junk like that.” I love hearing him call me his girl. “French toast it is. But you might have to settle for blueberries instead of blackberries.”

“Blueberries sound better anyway.”

Bastien grasps my arm and lifts it. “Ah, baby. What’s wrong with your arm?”

I look down to see what he’s talking about.

“Your arm shouldn’t be getting redder and more swollen.” He touches the angry, red circular area. “It’s hot to the touch. Your doctor needs to examine this.”

I twist to get a better look in the mirror. “Crap.”

“Do you feel all right? Fever? Chills? Fatigue? Anything weird going on?”

“My arm is tender, but otherwise, I feel fine.”

“We can’t go out of town until that has been seen and treated.”

“But we’re supposed to leave first thing in the morning for Houston. We’re not missing the Super Bowl over this.”

“Then you better call the doctor’s office as soon as they open and tell them you need to be seen today. You’re not going anywhere until somebody tells me you’re okay.”

“They should be open by the time I finish getting ready and have breakfast.”

Bastien continues standing in the doorway watching me get ready. He wants something. “What is it?”

“I bet they take the implant out of your arm.”

“I hope not.” It would suck to go through that discomfort only to have it removed a week later.

“I hope they don’t remove it either. I’ve taken great joy in its benefits.” He’s not lying. The man has been insatiable since I told him we were covered by birth control.

“Maybe I should reap the benefits one last time before it comes out.” Like he needs an excuse.

“You reaped them enough last night to hold you through the entire week.”

“A week? I don’t think so. I’ll admit to getting enough to do me for one day.”

I give him my talk to the hand gesture. “What . . . evva. But serious talk for a minute. You think it’s a bad idea for me to get on a daily birth control?”

“I prefer you didn’t if there are other reasonable options.”

“An IUD is the first thing to come to mind.”

He doesn’t look excited about that. “Is that one of those little rods or wires they’ll put inside you?”

“There are two different kinds, but yeah. The doctor would insert it inside my uterus, or womb. Whatever you want to call it.”

“Something about having a foreign object shoved inside you doesn’t sit well with me.”

“I don’t think he’ll shove it up in there. I’m sure he’ll gently place it.” Although I believed this implant in my arm would also be placed gently. Wrong.

“Will it harm your chances of getting pregnant or being able to carry a baby after it’s removed?”

I quickly look up, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “You want a baby?”

He sighs. “No, Rose. I’m thinking about what an IUD means for your future . . . after I’m gone and you’ve moved on with your life.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks downward. “Your husband will probably want children.”

I cannot believe he just said that to me. “You told me you wouldn’t say stuff like that anymore. You promised.”

“I promised you I wouldn’t make jokes about my disease or dying. This isn’t a joke. I’m very serious.”

“I want you to stop talking about dying. You aren’t leaving me. And don’t mention another word about me having babies with someone else.” I angrily brush past him on my way to the closet. “You’re the only man I’d ever want to have babies with.”

He follows me to the closet and stands in the doorway while I choose my outfit. “You can’t possibly think having a baby with me is an option.”

I yank my blouse off the hanger and hear a few stitches tear. “And you can’t possibly think I’d want a baby with another man.”

“You don’t know what you’re going to want when—”

I cut him off before he can say those words I despise. “I’m warning you. Don’t dare say it again.”

“You’re being close-minded. Letting your heart do the thinking. You need to be realistic.”

“Bastien. Auguste. Pascal. You are the only man I’ll ever want. Ever. You won’t convince me otherwise. No reason to try so just stop. You’re only managing to piss me off.”

“I’m the only man you’ll ever want, huh?”

I step into my panties and yank them up. “Yeah. Although I’m so mad at you right now, I’m rethinking that.”

“How pissed off are you right now?”

“Exceptionally pissed off.”

“Good.”

He grabs my face and kisses me hard, almost painfully, before pulling away to look into my eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Convincing you to have angry sex.”

He’ll have to work at convincing me better than this. “No. I’m mad at you.”

“That’s the whole point of angry sex.”

Bastien spins me around so my back is pressed to his front. He puts his hands on my hips and uses them to steer me toward the bed. “I’m angry too, Rose. Angry I won’t get to have all the things I want out of this life. And all the things I want with you.”

This is the first time Bastien has ever mentioned a future with me. I want to hear more. “What kind of things do you want with me?”

“A long, normal, healthy, happy life. Maybe with little Cajun babies.”

Oh my God. My heart and panties both just melted. “I want that too.”

He puts his forehead against my back and squeezes my body to his. “We can yearn for it all we want but it’ll never be.”

Hearing him admit that he wants me and a family is simultaneously wonderful and awful. Bastien wants things on his terms and nothing less is acceptable. It’s the one thing I can’t stand about him.

He fists the waistband of my panties and drags them down my legs. “Tell me this is okay. Tell me I can show you my anger and frustration and disappointment and how much it hurts inside because I’ll never have that life with you.”

He needs this—an outlet for his agony—and I want to be that for him. The remedy to take away his pain. The fire to warm him when he’s cold. The words when he has nothing to say.

I turn around and cradle my palms around his face. “It’s okay. You never have to be afraid with me. Because I’m never afraid with you.”

I sit on the bed and scoot back so I’m lying in the middle. “Show me everything. Be as aggressive as you need to be. I’ll tell you if it becomes too much. And when you’re finished, show me your soft kisses and gentle hands and loving touch.”

***

“I can’t recall in fifteen years ever seeing someone react to an implant like this.”

“You think it’s a reaction instead of an infection?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what’s going on with it. The localized heat suggests infection but you’re not running fever and your white count is normal. I just don’t know. Either way, it can’t stay in.” No surprise there.

The nurse gathers the supplies for the removal and I recognize the same instruments they used to insert it. I’m not looking forward to this at all. “Does it hurt when you take it out?”

“Similar to when it was placed. Maybe minimally more discomfort with the removal than the placement.” Great.

“Would it be possible to have an IUD placed today?” I’d really like to leave here not having to worry about contraceptives.

“Where were you in your cycle when we placed the implant?”

“Day five.”

“When did you last have intercourse?”

Man, that’s sort of embarrassing to admit I was getting banged right before I came up here. “A couple hours ago.”

“No condom?”

“No; I was covered by the implant. They told me it was safe.” I asked twice.

“You absolutely were covered but the implant is coming out today. It’s possible you could become pregnant if you ovulate in the next five days.”

Bastien will flip out if that happens. No doubt about it.

“What are my options?”

“I can place the IUD today. If a pregnancy occurs over the next five days, the IUD will increase your chances of miscarriage—somewhere in the neighborhood of around fifty percent. In rare cases, an ectopic pregnancy will occur when there’s an IUD in place.”

I don’t want to induce a miscarriage. And I don’t want to increase my odds of an ectopic. That would put my fertility in jeopardy if the tube ruptures. Neither of these options are great.

“I don’t think I’ll get the IUD today.”

“You can schedule an appointment to have it placed after your next period.”

“I think that’s what I want to do.” Annnd . . . we’re back to condoms. Bastien will be thrilled.

“That’ll be fine.”

And it won’t hurt to take another emergency contraceptive pill, just in case.

CHAPTER TWENTY

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

I’m ending a call with a client when Rose comes into my office. “Hey, babe. How’d your appointment go?”

“The doctor wasn’t sure what was going on with the implant so he took it out. We’re back to square one on birth control. Again.”

Well, it was nice while it lasted. Very nice. I’m glad I took advantage of it at every opportunity. “Didn’t do the IUD?”

“Not today.” I’m very okay with her not having it placed. I’ve decided I don’t want her to have one of those put inside her.

The repeated delay with taking the emergency contraceptive pill. The rejection of the implant in her arm. “We don’t have a great track record with contraceptives.”

“We sure don’t.”

She comes around my desk and sits on my lap. I place my hand on her lower back and rub in a circular motion. “What are we trying next?”

Rose leans in and places a soft kiss against my mouth. “Abstinence if our luck with birth control doesn’t change soon.”

I move my free hand to the top of her thigh and squeeze. “I don’t think so. You better come up with a better plan than that.”

“I’m scheduled to go back to the doctor after my period and have an IUD placed.” I was sort of afraid she was going to say that.

“Ach.” I shrug. “We have time to talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Which birth control to use.”

Rose leans away to see my face. “I was under the impression you wanted me on a get-it-and-forget-it contraceptive so there’s no more blunders. The IUD is the way to go.”

“I did some research. I didn’t like what I read about them.”

“Like what?”

“They can puncture your uterus. That’s a big deal, Rose. I don’t like it.”

“I’m sure the odds of that happening are minimal.”

“What if you’re that small percentage?” I would feel horrible if she did this to please me and then it caused her complications.

“I won’t get one if you’re that worried about it.”

“It would make me feel better if you didn’t. Maybe you get on the pill instead?”

“Whatever.”

“Just whatever? It’s your body. Shouldn’t you be more concerned than a simple whatever?”

She toys with the front of my hair. “You’re putting way more thought and concern into this than me. I don’t care as long as it works. So yeah, whatever you want, ass grabber.”

God, I love and adore this woman so much. I can’t believe how easy it has been to move from best friends and boss-employee relationship to lovers. Quasi husband and wife. But it has. She takes everything on her shoulders with grace and strength. I was so damn stupid to wait so long, but incredibly glad she took the chance to love me. To stay.

As I glance at the open email on the screen, I know I need to get back to work. But I like this kind of interruption. I’m enjoying her on my lap.

It was the best move bringing her into PPI. She is intelligent, picks up new things effortlessly, and works efficiently. Undoubtedly the best personal assistant I could have hired.

“You know what? I say screw it. Let’s get out of here.”

“But I just got to work.”

“We’ve been busting our asses to catch up and get ahead before our long weekend. We’ve worked hard. We’re leaving in the morning anyway so let’s blow this joint.”

“Who am I to argue with the boss?”

I pull her close and nibble the side of her neck. “That’s right. I am your boss and don’t you forget it any time soon.” She squeals and I shush her. “Keep it down or the whole office will know we’re in here fooling around.”

“I can’t help it. Your scruff against my neck sends me into orbit. It’s an instant panty melter.”

I lift her skirt. “Ooh. I want to see what that looks like.”

She pushes my hand and her skirt down. “You are sooo bad.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah, I sorta do.” She gets up from my lap. “I have one thing I need to take care of with Marilyn on the Geyser contract before we bolt for freedom. And don’t forget you have a meeting with the mean ole twat this afternoon. You’ll need to move it.” The insubordination meeting.

Rose knows my schedule better than I do. “Right. I forgot about that.”

I hate to not get that out of the way but I’d rather spend the rest of the afternoon with my girl. It can wait until next week.

Twenty minutes later, I’m shutting down my computer and tying up a few loose ends when Wendy barrels into my office—of course, without knocking. So irritating. She’s always thought she had the right to barge in anytime she wants. “Yes, Wendy. How may I help you?”

“Helen just called to move our meeting for this afternoon to next week.”

“That’s right. I’m leaving the office early and I won’t be in tomorrow either.”

“You’re always leaving the office early. Or leaving for days or weeks at a time.”

This is getting really old, really fast with her. “I’m the boss, which means I get to do whatever I like. I’m not obligated to answer to you or anyone else in this firm.”

“You just don’t get it. There was a time when no woman walked all over you. But that girl is playing you for a fool. And you’re letting her.”

“That’s not a very wise thing to say to your boss about his girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend.” She laughs. “You never called me your girlfriend.”

“Because that’s not what you were.”

Her eyes are shooting all kinds of daggers in my direction.

“I don’t want to see her use you, Bash.”

“Don’t call me that.” That name is reserved for Rose.

“You have no idea how sickening it is to sit back and watch that little gold digger sink her claws into you.”

“Rose isn’t a gold digger.” Rose is the complete opposite of a gold digger. She doesn’t care about money or material things. I can’t say the same about Wendy.

“You don’t give her expensive, luxurious gifts? Dress her in the finest clothes? Give her money?”

Rose asks for nothing. Everything I give to her, I give freely because I want her to have it. “The things I give her are none of your business.”

“She’ll take you for everything she can and then she’ll be onto the next sucker. It’s the way those kinds of girls work.”

Wendy loves arguing. She should have been a lawyer. “I’m not debating this with you.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” Such a lie.

“No, you just want to stir trouble between Rose and me, but it stops here and now. No more demeaning remarks to or about her. No more attempts to convince me I should be in your bed. No more insubordination. Another incident and you’re out of here.”

This is not the way I planned on doing this. I wanted to be professional but, damn, she pushed my buttons, insulting Rose the way she did.

“She’s in my life to stay. She’s not going anywhere, and if you can’t work here beside her without causing problems then you need to go now.”

Speechless. The woman actually has nothing to say.

“I’ll be out of the office tomorrow and Monday.” Based on the way I felt after our last trip, I might need another day. “Maybe Tuesday too. I’ll need you to take care of the final arrangements for the Halston sale.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re dumping that job on me?”

“Careful, Wendy. I’m serious about what I said.”

Wendy narrows her eyes and her jaw stiffens. “Yes. Sir.”

Rose returns at the same time Wendy spins around to storm out. “Have a great weekend with your boyfriend.”

Rose steps out of her way and looks at me with wide eyes. “That wasn’t Wendy’s happy face. But then again, I’m not sure Wendy has a happy face. I’ve never seen it.”

Rose’s humor and upbeat attitude never fails to amaze me.

“She’s pissed off; we had an impromptu meeting about her behavior. Wendy shouldn’t give you any more problems, or me, unless she wants to be looking for another job.”

“Wow. Boss man doesn’t play. Me likey.”

“Well, boss man was tired of her shit. You done for the day?”

“Yup. Ready to roll if you are.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

I’m sitting on the exam table, wringing my hands, bouncing my leg and biting my bottom lip. I’m pretty sure I taste blood.

“You’re back to have an IUD placed, Miss Middleton?”

“Actually, my boyfriend and I talked about it and we’ve decided I should get on the pill instead.”

“Okay. Not a problem.”

Except there is a problem.

Butterflies dance in my stomach as I prepare to say the words I’ve uttered to no one. “But I haven’t gotten my period since the implant was removed.”

“How many days late?”

“Five.” Five days of worry. Dread. Panic. I probably could have avoided all of this stress the past several days if I had done a home pregnancy test. But I’m too afraid. I’ve never been this late.

And Bastien has no idea.

“We need to do a pregnancy test to confirm you’re not pregnant before Dr. Reynolds starts you on the pill.”

I follow the nurse down the hall to the bathroom, every step making my heart speed a little faster. She writes my name on the plastic cup in her hand. “Put your specimen in the window when you finish and I’ll meet you back in your exam room with the results.”

Freaking. Out. So. Hard. I’m not sure I can squeeze a drop out of my bladder. Please, pee. Don’t fail me now.

The person looking back at me in the mirror as I wash my hands is pale as a ghost. “Come on, karma, fate, or whatever. Please let this test be negative.”

I return to the exam room when I finish and I’m numb. In a daze. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I’m pregnant.

Bastien will freak out. Like seriously come apart.

This is bad. Very bad.

Agony, I’m in a good place with Bastien. Don’t mess this up for me.

Maybe my cycle is off because of the implant and the emergency contraceptive pill combination. I bet that’s it. Hopefully. Fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that stuff.

My heart is beating out of my chest when the nurse returns. “No birth control pills for you today. You’re pregnant.”

My face suddenly goes cold, yet I feel hot flashes, and I feel woozy. “Are you okay, hon?”

“No.” I’m not at all okay. “I think I need to lie down.”

I fall backward on the exam table, flat on my back, and she instructs me to turn onto my left side. “Slow deep breaths.”

Dizzy. Short of breath despite my gasps. Spots in front of my eyes. The same as when I realized I’d been drugged and raped by the monster of my dreams. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“You’re hyperventilating, sweetheart. Slow your breathing, and you’ll feel better.”

I take slow, deep breaths, and after a moment, I begin to feel a little more like myself.

“We need to figure out how far along you are. When was your last period?”

“The twenty-seventh.”

She twists the plastic wheel in her hand. “That makes you somewhere between five and six weeks. Just barely pregnant.”

That can’t be right. “We didn’t have sex five or six weeks ago.”

“You count the pregnancy from the first day of your last period. Don’t ask me why it’s calculated that way. Technically, you got pregnant about three to four weeks ago. You’ll need an ultrasound to confirm your dates.”

“Can the urine test be wrong?” Please say yes.

“We occasionally see a false positive but that’s pretty rare.”

Please let this be that rare occasion.

“I’ll let Dr. Reynolds know. He’ll probably order an ultrasound. He likes to document the pregnancy as early as possible so your due date is accurate.”

Ultrasound. Pregnancy. Due date.

I came to this appointment expecting to get a prescription for birth control pills. Not this. Never this.

The nurse steps out and returns a few minutes later. “Radiology is going to work you in but it could be a while. You have time to call the baby’s father if you want him to be with you during the ultrasound.”

“No.” Absolutely not.

I hold out hope this is all a false positive, but I already know in my heart it isn’t. This is happening.

“Take off your bottoms and wrap this sheet around your waist. A tech will be in to do your scan as soon as they can work you into the schedule.”

I lie on the exam table for about an hour before a woman arrives to do the ultrasound. “Miss Middleton?”

I rise to a sitting position. “Yes.”

“So sorry for your wait. We’re pretty busy this morning.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m Lacey. I’m going to be doing your ultrasound.”

She spends several minutes confirming my patient information and entering it in the computer on the machine. “By your dates, you’re early in the pregnancy. I’ll try scanning your tummy with the external wand first.”

As opposed to what? I’m too afraid to ask.

She pulls the sheet down, squeezes warm gel on my stomach, and presses the wand against my belly. She rocks it back and forth. “I don’t see anything inside the uterus.”

“I’m not pregnant?” Thank God. Thank. God.

“You may not be far enough along for me to see it with the external wand. I’ll need to use the vaginal probe.”

I don’t like the sound of that at all.

She trades the triangular wand for a condom-covered rod. Do not like the look of that.

“Relax your legs.”

I close my eyes and try to relax when she inserts the probe inside me. “You’re going to feel pressure.”

No. Freaking. Joke.

“I’ll take measurements of your uterus first.”

Every little movement makes me feel like I’m going to pee on myself. “Doing okay?”

“Yes.” No. I’m not doing okay at all.

I close my eyes and stare into the blackness, pretending this isn’t happening. “Okay. All done with the uterine measurements.”

She angles the probe upward and presses. “Ah, there he is. He’s hiding from us.”

I open my eyes and look toward the screen. “Show me.”

She points to the monitor. “This tiny little white area. That’s your baby.”

It doesn’t feel real. “Are you sure?”

“Very. The measurement puts you at five weeks plus four days. That correlates with your last menstrual period so baby is growing right on schedule.”

“It looks healthy?”

“Still very early but all looks well from what I can see today.”

I stare at the white oblong circle on the screen, mesmerized that I’m looking at the beginning of a human being. A little person that Bastien and I created together.

Part of him.

Part of me.

Our baby.

She tears a printout from the machine and hands it to me. “All done. You can change back into your bottoms.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Congratulations.”

Congratulations?

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

***

“Where’s Vale?”

“The mirrored hall with one of the new Duets. First day.”

Vale doesn’t like being interrupted on day one with a new girl, but I have no choice. This is an all-out emergency.

I open the door and Vale whirls around, ready to let me have it. Until she sees it’s me. Until she sees the look on my face.

“Hailey, I need to step away for a minute. Keep practicing. You have a long way to go.”

I recall my early days with Vale. Eat healthily. Sleep eight hours. Work out with a trainer. Be clever and look beautiful. Things were so much simpler then.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s okay, honey. Something wrong?”

Yes. Something is very wrong. “Can we talk in your office?”

“Of course.”

“You should probably get Ericka to come in and help the new girl. You’re going to be gone a while.”

“You’re scaring me. Has something happened to B?”

“He’s fine.” For the moment anyway. I’m sure that will change once I tell him this news.

Vale looks at her new Duet. “Keep practicing. Ericka will come in and work with you while I’m gone.”

I burst into tears the moment Vale closes the door. “Oh, honey. What is going on?”

I don’t know how to articulate the words—two simple words—and I can’t bring myself to say them.

“Is B trying to end the relationship again?”

“No. Things are good between us. Very good.” Or they were.

“Then what’s going on?”

Breathe in. “I’m pregnant.”

Vale’s mouth spreads into a huge smile. “Oh, that is wonderful news.”

What is she talking about? This isn’t wonderful news at all. “No, it’s not. Bash is going to be very upset.”

“Yes. He will probably be upset initially, but he’ll come around after he’s had time to think about it and realize how incredible this is.” Vale puts her palms together and holds them over her mouth. “Baby Pascal. I had decided it would never happen. Especially after he told me about his ALS and making those idiotic plans.”

Vale and I don’t share the same opinion on this. She didn’t hear him tell me that having a baby wasn’t an option. “I don’t think he’s going to be happy about this at all.”

“B has always wanted a family.”

She doesn’t understand. “He wanted a family before the ALS. His diagnosis changed everything. He doesn’t want a baby anymore.” He was painfully clear about it.

“Well, it’s done now.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to tell him.”

“The first thing you do is stop building this up to be the end of the world. It’s not. You’re having Bastien’s baby. It’s a blessing. The second thing you do is make sure the timing is right. Do it when he’s relaxed and not stressed about work or his health. The third thing is to tell him with confidence. No boohooing like you’re afraid you’ve done something wrong. Show him you’re happy about this baby, and he should be too.”

She knows Bastien but I believe she’s wrong. I don’t think he’ll cope with this.

“I’m not confident. I’m terrified.”

“All you’ve done is talk about the way Bastien is going to feel. He isn’t the only person this affects. Tell me what’s going on in your heart and head.”

I wish I knew. “I’ve barely had time to absorb it. I don’t know how I feel.”

“Do you want this baby?”

“I think so. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I was pregnant once. I wanted to keep the baby but the guy I was with didn’t. It took a couple weeks but he eventually talked me into an abortion. I didn’t want to do it, but I gave in because I loved him and wanted to make him happy. I had the abortion on Thursday, and he left me on Friday. It’s a decision I’ve always regretted. That’s why you need to listen to what your heart is telling you.”

I love Vale. The thought of what she must have felt after being abandoned by the father of her baby breaks my heart. Such a betrayal. “I’m sorry.”

“You know how much I love B, but you can’t do what he wants because it makes him happy. You need to follow your heart.”

“That’s the problem. I can’t hear what my heart is saying because all I can think about is his reaction.”

“You don’t have to tell him today. Take some time to think about it. See where your head is in a few days. A week. Take as long as you need to figure this out for yourself before he gives you his opinion.”

Bastien knows me inside and out. He’s going to take one look and know something is up. “I don’t know how I’ll go home and look at him without bursting into tears.”

“You pull yourself together and do what you have to do.” Easier said than done.

“He’s going to ask me how my appointment went. He always does.” I’ve never lied to Bastien about anything and I don’t want to start now.

“Keep it general. It’s okay to say it went fine without going into detail.”

“Oh, Vale. We’ve never had a general conversation about birth control. We’ve discussed it in great detail because preventing a pregnancy is so important to him.”

Bastien’s ringtone plays inside my purse. “Oh, God. I can’t talk to him right now.”

Vale reaches for my purse and hands it to me. “He knows you’ve been to the doctor. He’ll worry if he doesn’t talk to you sooner rather than later. Get yourself together and take his call.”

I know Vale is right. I can’t avoid him. “Hey.”

“Hey, baby girl. Just checking on you. Haven’t heard from you since your appointment. Wanted to make sure everything went okay.”

“I’m fine.” I look at Vale and she gives me an encouraging nod. “Just decided to run by and see Vale before coming to the office.”

“I had to meet with a client about a property so I’m out of the office. Do you want to meet me for lunch before coming in to work?”

“Umm . . . yeah. Lunch would be great.”

“Where do you want to go? Your choice.” My stomach is in knots. I’m not in the mood for anything so I blurt out a restaurant I know Bastien enjoys.

“Twelve thirty?”

“Yeah, I can make that.”

“Okay. See you then. Love you, baby.”

“Love you.”

I end my call and widen my eyes at Vale. “Shit. I’m going to see him in forty-five minutes.”

“And you’re going to walk into that restaurant and smile and kiss his mouth and have a lovely lunch together. But first you’re going into the bathroom to fix your face or he will definitely know something is up.”

“Right.”

I look at the image staring back in the mirror. What a freaking mess. I’ve got to get myself under control.

I touch up my makeup, adding a little extra to cover the red blotches around my eyes. I hope my eyeballs aren’t this bloodshot by the time I see him.

I come out for Vale’s inspection. “Well?”

“Much better. And your eyes should be less red by the time you get to the restaurant.”

My stomach is churning. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“That’s what pregnant women do, honey.” Oh, crap.

“I’m pretty sure it’s nerves since I’m not that far along.”

“Did they give you a due date?”

“November third.” Saying the date—the day my baby could be born—makes this feel really . . . real.

“A baby in time for the holidays. That would be so wonderful.”

Nothing about this feels wonderful right now.

***

I made it through lunch. Made it through the remainder of the work day. Made it through dinner and our evening at home. But it’s bedtime now and I know what Bastien is ready to do.

I want the same thing.

This is our special time—when we’re raw, bared, exposed. We put everything else in our world aside and make this moment about the two of us.

Except now, it isn’t just the two of us. There’s a tiny little person here too.

There hasn’t been a single second today when the baby wasn’t on my mind. I imagined life with Bastien a year from now, two years, three years. All with our son or daughter. The three of us smiling and laughing. A happy family. Exactly what he told me he dreamed of having with me. He said his disease robbed him of that possibility. But it hasn’t. The child he always wanted is inside me. His progeny to continue his family line.

I’ve decided I’m happy about this little person we’ve created. I don’t need days or weeks to think about what I should do. I want this baby. And I want him to want this baby.

This child was created out of our love for one another. I believe it happened with a purpose. I think our child was conceived to save Bastien’s life.

Give him a reason to live.

I crawl into bed and Bastien wastes no time coming to me. “You’ve been distant today. Everything okay?”

That’s my Bastien. Never doubted for a minute that he wouldn’t pick up on my anxiety. “I’m good now.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“We will later. Right now, I just want you to make love to me.”

“Well, as your companion, it is my job to give you everything you want.”

He tugs me toward him so we meet in the middle of the bed. “Always so beautiful.”

I pull his bottom lip into my mouth and suck hard for a moment before releasing. “Mmm . . . that’s sexy.”

I drag mine back and forth over his mouth, teasing him. Tempting him to suck my lip into his mouth. And he does.

My palms glide up the solid, muscular ridges of his arms, shoulders, and neck. Satiny to touch, hard as stone beneath my palms. My fingertips follow the muscles in the back of his neck in an upward direction. He trembles when my nails scrape over his scalp and my fingers lace through his hair.

He releases my lip and I press a close-mouthed kiss to his lips. Then another. And another. I open a little at a time until I lure his tongue out.

A soft moan slips through my lips when our tongues touch, igniting a fiery chain of events: Bastien grabbing the backs of my upper thighs and pulling me against him. My legs wrapping around his waist. His body pressing between my legs.

“I can hardly stand seeing you at work. I spend all day thinking about how I want to shut my office door and have you on top of my desk.” Oh God. Yes.

“I wouldn’t say no.”

Bastien presses a kiss below my ear and moves his mouth down the side of my neck. His hands similarly mimic the motion beginning at my ribcage and moving down my sides, waist, and bottom.

I tighten my legs around him when he digs his fingertips into my flesh. Love when he does that.

Squirming beneath him, tingly waves of sensation toss and turn deep within my pelvis. A storm of moans, groans, and panted breathing brewing beneath the surface.

Together, we remove his clothes. He takes full responsibility for my panties, pushing his fingers into the waistband and dragging them down my hips and legs. “I don’t know why we come to bed wearing clothes.”

I giggle. “They never stay on, do they?”

My knees fall apart. His open invitation.

“We’re covered?”

I guess we are since I’m already pregnant. “Yes.”

I am so in love with this amazing man. And I’m elated to have a part of him growing inside me. Means I get to have a piece of him forever.

As our bodies join to become one, I experience a moment of calm. Peace. Bliss. The first I’ve felt since being told I was pregnant.

I tune out the dread. The worry. The angst. And just feel the love and want I have for Bastien. And this baby.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

Sex with Rose is always amazing but that was intense. Fervent. Hardcore. I loved every kiss. Every touch. Every second of togetherness.

I press a kiss to Rose’s mouth before rolling away to lie on my back, bringing her body with mine. She settles into her usual place, her head on my chest, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder. Just as I always do, I pull her close and kiss the top of her head. “Love you, baby girl.”

She twists her body and lifts her face so we make eye contact. “How much do you love me?”

This is one of those times when there isn’t an answer befitting the question. Words aren’t enough to convey the way I feel about her. “With all of my heart but that isn’t it entirely. Because it isn’t just how much I love you. It’s how there is no one else on this earth that I love as much as you. You are it for me. The one.”

I wasn’t sure it was possible—finding one woman who’d fulfill my every need. Make me whole. But I have it all with Rose.

Her eyes fill with tears and one breaches the dam of her lid, sliding down her cheek. “No one has ever said anything so touching and significant to me.”

I can’t resist kissing her forehead. “I better be the only one telling you how much he loves you.”

“You know you are.” That’s one of the things I love so much about Rose—the trust we share. I’ve never had that kind of reliance with any woman.

My girl moves to sit on top of me, straddling my hips. “It’s a little soon for round two but I can try if you’re ready.”

Rose shakes her head and her lovely smile transitions into a frown. What the hell? “Hey, hey, baby. What’s wrong?”

She’s sobbing when she leans forward and presses her face to the side of my neck. “Rose. What’s wrong?”

“I’m so afraid to tell you, Bash.”

“Rose, this isn’t who we are. I don’t want fear to keep you from confiding in me. You never have to be afraid to tell me anything.”

I feel her shake her head against my neck but no words come.

Has she changed her mind? Does she want to leave me? I’m confused. She was very adamant about staying when I tried to end our relationship months ago.

Have Wendy’s taunts affected her? Surely she doesn’t believe anything Wendy says.

“There are a lot of unsavory thoughts going through my head right now. I need you to tell me what this is about and put me out of my misery.”

She burrows her face into the side of my neck. “I’m . . . pregnant.”

Pregnant? Pregnant. Pregnant!

Holy.

Shit.

I was prepared to soothe her the way I do when she has a nightmare. I was going to hold her close and tell her nothing would make me upset with her. I was going to stroke her hair with my hand, put my arms around her, and tell her she’s okay.

But she’s not okay.

And I’m not okay.

Nothing about this is okay.

“Are you positive?”

“The doctor confirmed it today.” She sits up and leans over to turn on the lamp. She opens the top drawer of the bedside table and takes out a piece of paper. “They did an ultrasound.”

She turns the paper so I can see it. “This is a picture of the baby. It’s due November third.”

I look at the ink on the white paper. It’s nothing but a smear of black to me. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

She points to a tiny white dot in the center of a black triangle. “That’s the baby. Our baby. It’s tiny because I’m not very far along.”

It doesn’t look like a baby to me. Only a spot where the printer missed inking the paper.

“I’m freaking out. I need you to tell me how you feel about this.”

I made it my job to take care of her. That means calming her when she’s upset. Reassuring her all is well. “It’s all right. Don’t freak out.”

Rose’s face relaxes. “Oh, God. You don’t know how terrified I was that you were going to be upset about it.”

I don’t like that Rose was afraid to talk to me about this. “I’m not upset. I’m also not surprised. Not after all the bad luck we’ve had with birth control.”

She’s smiling, visibly more relaxed. “I think it happened that morning before they removed the implant. During our angry sexcapade.”

“I can believe that.” I’m the one smiling now. That was one wild morning of sex.

I hug her tightly. “It was an accident. I don’t want you to worry about it. We’ll fix it.”

“Fix it?”

“Yeah. You caught it early. That’s good. It’ll make an abortion a lot easier. You’ll recover in no time.”

She sits up, still straddling me. “Just like that? You want to abort our child without so much as asking me what I want or how I feel about it?”

I guess that did come out sounding exceptionally thoughtless. “Okay. Tell me what you want and how you feel.”

“I was upset when the nurse told me but mostly because I was terrified of what your reaction would be. I’ve spent all day thinking about it, and I’ve decided I want this baby. I want us to raise him or her together. We can be the family you always wanted. The one I never had.”

Why must she pretend everything is normal and I’m not sick? Like I won’t be dead soon. “That’s not going to happen.”

“We’re adults. It can happen if we decide we want it to happen.”

“But I don’t want it to happen. I don’t want this baby.”

She leans away from me and looks as though I’ve slapped her in the face. “I don’t understand how you can say that. This is your child inside me. Your son or daughter. How can you not want it? I’ve only known about it half a day and I already love it.”

“Think about it, Rose. Why would I want to bring a baby into my life right before I end it?”

“Please stop saying that. You’re not ending your life. I won’t let you.”

“I am, baby girl. And you need to hurry up and accept that.”

“I will never accept that. Never. Not in a million years.”

“I love you, Rose. If my circumstances were different, I’d be thrilled to hear we’re having a baby. You’re right, that’s been my absolute dream in life for as long as I can remember. But not under these circumstances. A baby at this point in my life would be the worst possible scenario.”

“This baby has to die because you’ve decided you don’t want to live?”

It sounds horribly self-serving when she says it out loud. Can’t deny it.

“We both know that my plan goes to shit if you bring a baby into my life.” How would I look at my child and turn my back on it? I wouldn’t and she knows that.

“You’d ditch that stupid plan because you’d love this child so much you’d want to be around to raise it.”

“That’s what you’re counting on, right? Forcing me to stay alive by using this baby?”

“If I have to.”

There it is. She thinks this baby will be the reason I won’t push through with my agenda. The clause to prevent my death. Would she . . . Oh, hell, no. Surely not. “Did you do this on purpose—get pregnant because you thought it would stop me from ending my life?”

She straightens and stares at me for a moment. Her lips curl inward, around her teeth. Face scrunched. Her I’m not going to cry face. But it doesn’t work. I see the tears forming.

And I also see how deeply I’ve wounded her.

“Of course I didn’t, Bash. But I do believe this baby was conceived because fate has other plans for you. And so do I.”

“I want to die with dignity. It should be my decision. On my terms. This baby changes everything.” My choice is being taken from me. Rose is wearing blinders and fails to see that. Or maybe she’s choosing to ignore it.

“You can hate me if you want but keeping this baby alive means keeping you alive. I won’t have an abortion.”

We’re on opposite sides, and it isn’t a simple, temporary fence dividing us. It’s a wall—a big, thick, tall one. “Do you understand what this means? I’m telling you I don’t want this baby and your response is that you don’t care. You’re going against my wishes even if it impacts my life negatively. That’s a huge problem for me.”

“What are you saying?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

Dammit. I’ve finally found what my heart has been seeking all these years. I was going to get to live out my final days with love and peace and happiness. The words I’m about to say are going to shatter everything. Every. Thing.

“We can’t be together if you insist on having this baby.”

Rose cups her hands over her mouth and shakes her head. “No . . . no, Bash. Don’t say that. Don’t make me choose between you and our child.”

I won’t be able to do what I have to do if this child is in my life. “If you choose this baby, I will financially support both of you. I partly created it so it’s my responsibility, but I don’t want to ever see it or have contact with it. That means no contact with you other than transferring money into an account.”

Her chest shudders as a loud sob escapes. “No. I don’t want your money. I want you.” She crumples over me, her face pressed to my chest. “Please don’t do this. Please.”

I’m watching Rose fall to pieces right before my eyes. And I’m crumbling right with my girl.

Can’t look at her. At her pain. Her agony.

My plan is set. I love Rose with all my heart, but I’m immovable. There’s no way to have it both ways here. Dammit to hell. I hate this, but she needs to see how serious I am . . . even if it destroys us.

“You can either terminate the pregnancy and be with me until the time I decide I’m ready to end my life or you can keep the baby and we part ways now. Your choice.”

She lifts her head and our eyes lock. Red, swollen, tear-filled eyes stare back at me. I hate seeing her this way. Hate knowing I’m the one to bring her so much pain.

“I lose you now if I don’t abort the baby. I lose you later if I do. Either way I’m saying goodbye to you. At least I’ll have a part of you to hold on to if I keep our child. If I abort it, I’ll have nothing. I end up alone. I don’t choose that.” Her voice, only a timid whisper a minute ago, is now that of an angry woman.

She forcefully pushes away from me, gets out of bed, and fetches her panties and nightgown from the floor. My heart sinks. She’s made her choice.

And it’s not me.

On her way out, she stops in the doorway but doesn’t turn around. “If you loved me with all of your heart the way you say, I would have been reason enough for you to want to live. Baby or no baby. But I’m not and that breaks my heart.”

I hear the door to her old bedroom slam and my heart begs me to go to her. It wants to tell her we’ll work this out. It wants me to tell her everything will be okay.

But that isn’t the truth.

Everything is not okay.

My tremors are worsening, not on a daily basis yet, but I feel them progressively increasing. A slow progression won’t always be the case. The day will come, sooner rather than later, when I no longer control my body. A decision must be made prior to that day.

I know she loves me and will grieve and mourn my death. I don’t want that for her, but it is what it is now. My heart is tearing in two, but I believe I’m right on this: Rose shouldn’t be around when my end comes.

Damn. A baby—a son or daughter. God knows I’ve wanted that for so long, but because of these circumstances, I’ll never know my own child. I won’t raise him or her. I won’t get to be a father.

Fate is a cruel, callous bastard.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

Agony, I hate this.

I’ve been hurt by a lot of different people in my life, and in many different ways. Pain is pain. It’s always been the same to me. But no one has ever reached into my chest, squeezed the protective barbed wire around my heart, and used it to puncture my love the way Bastien did.

No one. Ever.

I already love this baby. How can Bastien not love it too?

He doesn’t just not love it. He’s asking me to abort it. I don’t understand how he can want to kill our child.

It came as a huge blow for him. I get it. It was a shock to me too when I found out, but a little time and I was okay with it. Maybe he just needs a little space and time too.

God, I’m nauseated. I have been since my argument with Bastien last night. That was hours ago. I thought lying still and keeping my eyes closed would help. It hasn’t.

I dash from the bed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I spew. I’m not an elegant or quiet vomiter—as if there is such a thing—so I’m not surprised when Bastien appears in the doorway to check on me.

“You all right?”

I dry heave several times and spit. “No. I’m not all right. Not even a little bit.”

He wets a washcloth with cold water and wraps it around the back of my neck. “I guess this is what they call morning sickness?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve been nauseated all night.”

“I didn’t hear you getting sick during the night.” Does that mean he stayed awake after I left his bed? Maybe rethinking his decision?

“Didn’t throw up until now.”

“Guess you don’t want breakfast?”

“Hell, no.” I can’t even think about putting food in my mouth.

“Stay home today.”

I hate giving Wendy a reason to talk smack about me, but I really don’t feel well. I’m not sure I could get up from my porcelain-god-worshipping position to get ready for work right now anyway. “I’ll come in after this passes.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.” Does he already not want me around him? Am I losing my job too?

I lean my head against the wall. “I guess my boss won’t fire me for taking one sick day.” Especially since he’s the one who knocked me up.

“I’ve always heard crackers help. Want me to go out and get some for you?”

His kind offer pisses me off. I almost rather he act like a bastard to keep things consistent. “I hate for you to go out just for crackers.”

“You know I will.”

He’s being very sweet for someone who told me last night to get an abortion. “I know you will but I don’t think I could keep a cracker down anyway. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

Turns out I’m not okay. The nausea progressively worsens over the next several days. “How long has it been since you kept anything on your stomach?”

“I don’t know.” The hours and days have run together.

“This has been going on a long time. You need to call your doctor.”

“I’m too sick to lift my head. Will you call for me?”

Bastien rubs his hand over his scruff. “Yeah.”

He’s annoyed. I hear it in his voice. I guess calling my OB-GYN on my behalf classifies as getting involved in the pregnancy.

He leaves my bedroom and returns several minutes later. “Your doctor wants you to come in for evaluation. I’m calling Vale to take you.”

I love Vale. She’s like a mom to me, but I want Bastien by my side. I need him. “Please, Bash. Can you come? I want you to go with me.”

“Rose, I can’t. This pregnancy is making you miserable. I want to help you feel better, but I can’t go to the hospital with you. I can’t get sucked into talking about this baby like it’s a wonderful thing. I don’t want to see it when they do ultrasounds. I don’t want to hear its heartbeat. I can’t be any part of it.”

“Because you’re terrified you’ll feel something for your son or daughter?”

No reply.

My eyes sting but no tears come. “Do whatever you’ve gotta do to stay disconnected. If that means turning your back on me when I’m at my lowest, then go ahead and do it. That’s what I’m used to from the people in my life anyway.”

“That’s not fair.”

Bastien is turning his back on me after everything we’ve been through, and he’s telling me I’m not being fair to him? Give me a freaking break.

“I’ve been your companion for fifteen months. Basically your wife minus your last name and the legalities that go along with it. You get me pregnant and abandon me when I refuse to kill our child. Tell me who’s being unfair.”

I strain to sit up and get out of the bed.

“Stop. What do you think you’re doing?”

I haven’t bathed in days. “I’m not going to the hospital without a shower.”

“You can barely hold up your head. How are you going to take a shower?”

“I don’t know but I’ll manage.” Wouldn’t be the first time I took care of myself without any help.

I put my feet on the floor and sit on the edge of the bed. My head is spinning and I literally feel like I don’t have the energy to stand. I close my eyes because the revolving room makes me feel like I need to yack again. “Oh, God. I feel horrible.”

I breathe in and out deeply, willing my stomach to not wretch again. My whole abdomen is so sore. “Please. Please. Please,” I plead beneath my breath.

One minute. Two minutes. Just sit, Rose. “Okay. I’m doing this.”

I rise from the bed to stand and take three steps before blackness and stars fill my vision.

“Rose? Look at me, baby.”

I hear Bastien’s panicked voice but I can’t see him or respond.

“Say something to me.”

I want to but a soft moan is all I’m able to squeeze out of my throat.

And then there’s nothing but blackness.

***

I wake in a dim room. Three walls and a curtain. Looks like the hospital, but not a regular patient room. Maybe I’m where they examine or observe patients.

The top of my hand aches. It’s so cold. And I understand why when I see fluids running into it through an IV.

“Hey, girlie.” Vale gets out of her chair and comes to stand at my bedside. She takes my free hand in hers and rubs the top. “How do you feel?”

I’m happy to wake to Vale by my side but devastated because Bastien isn’t here.

“Very weak.” My throat is so dry when I speak. My words are but a hoarse whisper.

“The doctor said you’re severely dehydrated and your electrolytes are out of balance. You’re going to need several bags of IV fluid to correct the problem.”

“I don’t feel nauseated.” That’s a first in . . . I don’t even know how many days. Such a relief my gut isn’t wrenching.

“They’re giving you medicine through your IV for that.”

“Thank God.” Maybe I’d have called the doctor sooner if I’d known I could take medication for the nausea. I figured I couldn’t have anything since I was pregnant.

“The doctor thinks you have some kind of virus.”

“I wondered. I’ve never heard of anyone being that sick with a pregnancy.”

I look at the second empty chair in the room. “He’s here. Just stepped out to take a call from the office. He didn’t want to disturb you.”

I’m surprised he came. “He told me you’d bring me.”

“Maybe, but that was before you passed out in his arms when you tried to get up.”

“It’s all a bit fuzzy.”

“You scared the shit out of him.”

Good. “That’s surprising to hear, considering his reaction to learning about the pregnancy.”

I wonder if he and Vale have discussed the baby while I’ve been sleeping. They’re best friends. It would be hard for me to believe they didn’t.

“B cares, Rose. More than you know. He loves you with all his heart.”

“He loves me so much that he wants me to kill the life we created together. That in no way feels like love to me.”

“I’m confident he’s going to come around.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do. One hundred percent.” Vale’s faith in Bastien is unshakable. Mine was too until I told him about the baby. And I don’t know who he is anymore. The man I know and love would be by my side comforting me.

“I’d love to believe that but you didn’t hear the things he said.” My eyes sting when I recall his ultimatum. “He’s making me choose between him and our child. What kind of man does that?”

“Rose, a man’s psyche is different from a woman’s. He needs more time than you to sort out his feelings and get his priorities in order. Be patient with him.”

Vale could be right. Even though he said he wouldn’t come to the hospital, he’s here. His presence isn’t much but it’s something. Better than him being at home or at work while I’m lying in a hospital bed.

“Has the doctor checked on the baby?”

“He ordered an ultrasound. Said he wanted to confirm a heartbeat. They should be in to do it anytime.”

Confirm a heartbeat? “Does he think I lost the baby?”

“Don’t worry. The doctor’s just being cautious. That’s all.”

“Bastien doesn’t want to see the baby or hear its heartbeat. Will you stay with me while they do the ultrasound? If they tell me I’ve lost the baby . . . Vale—” I can’t form the rest of the words.

“Of course. I want to see my little angel.”

“There won’t be much to see. It’s just a little white dot on the screen.”

“Well, I bet it’s the most beautiful little white dot ever.”

“It is.” It’s my little white dot and I already love it so much.

There’s a quick knock and a woman pushing an ultrasound machine enters my room. “Miss Middleton?”

“That’s me.”

The tech introduces herself and tells me everything she’s going to do. I’m just as frightened as I was during my first scan but this time it’s for an entirely different reason. I’m terrified my little peanut is no longer with me.

“I’m going to try your abdomen first. It’s been several days since your last scan. You’re six weeks and one day now, so it’s possible we’ll be able to see it abdominally without doing the vaginal probe.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll do anything you need me to do.” I will stand on my head if it helps.

“We’ll try this first.” She places the wand on my belly, rocking it back and forth, while pressing against my stomach.

I glance over when I see something move outside the curtain and recognize Bastien’s feet.

The tech presses harder and I groan. “I’m sorry. I can’t find anything in the uterus with the external wand.”

My heart sinks. “Did I lose the baby?”

“We’re going to look with the probe.”

That isn’t a no. “Oh, God. Vale, I’m scared.”

“Honey, she’s going to look again.”

I immediately question everything I’ve done the last four days. “I didn’t know I had a virus. I thought it was morning sickness. I should have come to the hospital sooner.”

“Calm down. Take some slow, deep breaths.”

“But it’s all my fault if I’ve lost the baby.”

“Give her a minute to look before you jump to conclusions.”

I let my legs fall apart and she inserts the probe. I don’t even think about how much pressure it is this time. All I care about is knowing my baby is okay.

She presses a few buttons on the machine and a loud gallop fills the room. “There we go. He just wanted to play hide and seek with us for a minute.”

Vale gasps. “Oh my God, Rose. Listen to that. It’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

Nothing describes the relief I feel wash over me. “Most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

The sound stops and the tech pushes the probe deeper. “A few quick measurements and we’ll be done.”

Bastien’s feet haven’t moved. Why? Why is he still there?

I wonder if he’s disappointed I didn’t lose the baby. If he is, he better not say any such thing to me or I will hate him forever. I never knew you could love and hate someone so fiercely both at the same time.

The tech finishes my scan and gives me more pictures. “Radiology will send a report over to Dr. Reynolds. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”

“Thank you.”

Vale holds out her hand for the pictures. “I already adore this baby. He’s a combination of the two people I love most on this earth. I’m going to spoil him rotten.”

“You called it a him. It could be a her.”

She studies the printout. “I picture a boy for some reason. Maybe because I felt certain my baby was a boy.”

I’d love to give Bastien a son to carry on his name but I’d be happy with either. “I just want it to be healthy.”

“I’m so happy I was here to see and hear that little angel.”

“Thank you for staying. I didn’t want to be alone again. Especially if the news was bad.”

“Well, the news wasn’t bad. You have a little fighter in there.”

I point to Bastien’s feet and Vale smiles. “I think I’m going to step out and stretch my legs a minute. Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

I close my eyes and rest my head against the pillow. I’m startled when I hear the chair next to my bed scoot across the floor. I didn’t expect him to come in to sit with me. He was very adamant about having no part of this. Seems like being in my presence would violate those terms.

Bastien is leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs, looking at the floor.

“I didn’t lose the baby.”

“I heard.” Two words. That’s all I get from him about his child’s life.

“I’m sorry if that disappoints you. I know it would have made your life a lot easier if I had lost it.”

No reply.

No argument.

No happiness.

His silence screams what I hate to acknowledge. He would have been happier if the baby was gone.

“I know you don’t want to be here so just go.”

“Rose . . .”

I wait to hear what will follow my name. Pray he tells me he was wrong and has changed his mind. Desperate to hear him say he wants our baby and me. But no words come.

I’m losing the companion I’ve come to love so dearly. My best friend. In a sense, my husband. The father of my child.

The barbed wire around my heart sprouts a new layer like an out-of-control vine feeding from the harsh coldness inside my chest.

I cup my hand over my eyes so I don’t have to watch him walk away. “Just go. I’m releasing you. You’re free to leave.”

And he does—without a single word.

Breaking my heart all over again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

I find Vale sitting in the waiting room, her eyes closed. “You can go back in with her.”

“I left so you could talk.”

“We’ve already talked.”

“I don’t think so. Rose told you something you weren’t prepared to hear, and you acted like a complete jackass. Your reaction was irrational. Not at all befitting the man I know you to be.”

Maybe because I’m not the man I once was. “I told her how I felt and I don’t have anything else to say about it. No reason for me to stick around here.”

I move just in time to miss Vale’s foot. I think she was really aiming for my balls this time. “I can’t believe you. Rose is lying in that hospital bed sick as a dog, pregnant with your baby, and you’re abandoning her?”

“She told me to go.”

Vale rolls her eyes and mutters something beneath her breath. “She’s hurt and lashing out. Isn’t that just convenient as hell for you? God, you’re being such a prick.”

“I’m supposed to ignore what she says and stay when she tells me to go?” Rose has always spoken her mind. Said what she meant. She’s not the kind of woman who plays games.

“Yes. You stay because that’s what you do when you love somebody.”

“Wait just one damn minute, V. Don’t you dare imply that I don’t love her.” No one can fathom how much I adore that girl.

“Think about it, B. Rose has been hurt by every single person in the world whose job it was to love her. She’s never had anyone who didn’t let her down until you. And now after she’s put her faith and trust in you, you’re doing the exact same thing as everyone else in her life. If you had to guess, what do you think would be her natural reaction? Open up and allow you to hurt her more? Or retreat and close herself off for protection?”

“I love Rose. I want to be here for her.”

“But not the baby?”

“We were happy. Our relationship was perfect. There wasn’t supposed to be a baby.” I was going to live out my final days with the woman I love by my side.

“I hate to break it to you, but Rose didn’t get pregnant by herself.”

“I know and I’m going to do what’s right. I’ll financially support her and the baby. She won’t ever have to worry.”

Vale has never looked at me with such disgust. Disdain. Contempt. “Are you kidding me? Rose couldn’t care less about your money. She wants you. You, just as you are now. You, as you’re going to be down the road. What a wonderful gift to have someone like that in your life. And you’re shitting all over it. Marie-Grace would be ashamed of you for the way you’re treating the mother of her grandchild.”

God, Vale knows exactly how to hit the hardest. But she’s right. My mother would . . . hell, I don’t even want to consider what she’d think of me right now.

I hadn’t considered a pregnancy affecting the next nine months with Rose. I thought we’d be making the most of every healthy day I have left. Instead, I’m losing her and have to go back to that lonely world where I existed before she came into my life.

God, I don’t want that.

And I don’t want her to abort our baby.

“You need to think long and hard about what you’re doing and what you’ll be giving up by cutting Rose and the baby out of your life.”

“I’m doing this now to save myself from cutting them out later when it’ll be so much more painful.” I have to do it now—before I have the chance to fall so deeply in love with this baby that I can’t let go.

Disconnect. It’s the only way to do it. But I’m starting out on the wrong foot if I’m going to successfully detach myself from Rose’s pregnancy.

I was standing outside her exam room when they did the ultrasound. I listened to everything. I shouldn’t have. It’s just another way of becoming attached to this baby. But as badly as I wanted to, I couldn’t make my feet move to carry me away.

I was terrified when they couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. I prayed to God for our child’s safety. Offered my life in place of this tiny being’s. And a moment later, the loud beating sound of his heart filled the room. I can’t recall ever being more thankful for anything in my life.

It would be so easy to put my prognosis out of my mind and live only for today. But time marches on, and my future will one day become my present.

I’m certain it’ll be less painful to end this now, before it begins.

“I want to stay with Rose. If she’ll let me.” Right now, I’m not sure she’ll lower her protective wall and let me in again.

***

Rose is asleep when I return to her exam room. I’m glad. I need a minute to decompress about being here.

Even in Rose’s sleep, she protectively holds her stomach. This baby is going to be blessed with a wonderful mother. I hope it’s enough to make up for its shitty father.

I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. The last four days have been exhausting for me as well. Despite our impasse, I haven’t left Rose’s side. If she didn’t sleep, then neither did I.

The next time I open my eyes, Rose is awake and looking at me. “I didn’t expect you to come back.”

Me either. “Everything okay?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“Feel better?”

“As far as the nausea goes, yeah. But everything else . . .” She shrugs and shakes her head.

“You really worried me.” I adjust in my chair and notice the ache in my lower back. I must have slept a while to have become so stiff.

I look at Rose’s IV bag and see that the level of fluid has lowered considerably. “You have to get two more of those after that one is empty?”

“I think so. The nurse told me they were going to move me out of this observation area and into a regular patient room soon.”

“You’re being admitted to the hospital?” That sounds serious.

“Yeah. It takes eight hours for one of those bags to go in. She said we’d be more comfortable in a real room. It has a pullout bed for Vale, so she doesn’t have to sit in a chair all night.”

“I’m staying with you. I sent Vale home while you were asleep. She’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”

The expression on Rose’s face isn’t a happy one. And despite the fact that I’ve been a jackass, it stings. I thought—and maybe hoped—she’d be pleased I was staying.

“I was planning to talk to her tonight. I need to sort out some kind of plan for my future with the baby.”

“What do you mean? And what does Vale have to do with it?”

“You want no contact with the baby and me. Obviously, that means I have to move out of the house.”

Rose has been a part of my everyday life for fifteen months. We haven’t spent a single day apart. The thought of her leaving guts me. Rips me into two pieces.

“I’ve saved my monthly allowance and salary at PPI. It’s plenty for us to live on for a while but it won’t last forever. I was planning to speak with Vale tonight about letting me come back to work for her at Duets, at least until I start to show.”

Rose is my companion. She isn’t going back into that environment. “You can forget that entire plan.”

“I have to earn a living.”

“You are my companion. Mine. Our situation doesn’t change that. And now you’re the mother of my child, regardless of the status of our relationship. I won’t let you be in that world again.”

“I have to find somewhere else to live. That’s going to take money. If I don’t have income coming in, I will blow through my savings in six months. Maybe eight if I’m careful. I have a baby on the way. I have to be smart about this, Bash.”

I won’t allow her to be in contact with the clients of Duets. “I told you I’d take care of you and the baby. You’ll remain at the house until we figure out what we’re doing.”

“I’m going to stay at the house, sleep across the hall from you, and you’re going to ignore me as though I’m not there? No thank you.”

“You’re staying. End of discussion.”

***

Time is marching on. This pregnancy is progressing. I’m watching it happen right before my eyes.

I remain in a state of mourning. Rose is gone from my room. Her things no longer litter the bathroom vanity. She’s gone from my bed . . . and so is her scent. Her pillow doesn’t even hold her fragrance anymore.

The days since Rose told me she was pregnant—all forty-something of them–have been painfully slow. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

I miss her.

She’s twelve weeks pregnant. Entering the second trimester. A third of the pregnancy is behind her. She isn’t showing yet, which makes it easy to ignore the baby growing inside her, so I simply put it out of my mind. Turn off my emotional switch. But it won’t be long until the baby is big enough that I have no choice but to watch it growing inside her. That’s when this is going to feel real. And I have no idea how I’m going to handle that.

The house is dark when I enter. And quiet. Too quiet. “Rose?”

No answer. I call out for her again and still no reply. I don’t like it.

I do a quick walkthrough of the first floor and find no sign of her. She must be in her room. After all, that’s where she goes to avoid me when we’re both in the house.

I go upstairs and tap on her bedroom door, although it’s standing wide open and the lights are off. “Rose?”

Still no response.

She’s gone.

My heart immediately pounds harder and faster. Has she left me?

I don’t suppose I could blame her if she has. Our relationship is rocky to say the least. No, rocky is giving it too much credit. It’s mostly nonexistent.

We’re civil and courteous and cordial. Just one ghost living with another in this house. That’s about the extent of our contact. And it hurts so much.

Rose is right here in the same house but I couldn’t miss her more if she were thousands of miles away.

I open her closet door and breathe a sigh of relief when I find all of her things still in place. But it’s almost ten o’clock on Friday night. She left PPI at five. Where is she? Who could she possibly be with?

And then a thought hits me. We’ve been estranged for a while. She may have met someone else. She could be with him now.

I see red when I imagine her with another man. On his arm. Laughing at his jokes. Smiling at him as though there’s no other place she’d rather be.

All of this while she has my baby in her belly.

I’m so angry it’s a wonder I’m even able to type out the message before I hit send.

Where are you?

I probably don’t deserve a reply from her. And I guess she must think so too since an hour passes and I get nothing from her.

Surely I can call Vale and find out who she’s with. She’s carrying my child. I think I’m entitled to know they’re both safe.

Does being the father of her baby give me that right?

Vale’s phone goes straight to voicemail. Probably with her senator boyfriend. I heard he was in town this week.

I was too ashamed to leave Vale a message asking about Rose’s whereabouts the first three times I called but now I’m reaching a state of panic. “I need you to call me. I can’t find Rose. I’m worried.”

I end the call and hear the garage door lifting. Thank God.

I wait for Rose on the sofa, pulling myself together so I don’t rush into the kitchen and pull her into my arms when she enters the house. Hell, I don’t even have that right anymore.

I don’t glance up when she comes into the living room. I can’t let her see the worry in my expression. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Not so loud, Bash.”

I look up and see her holding a little sleeping red-haired baby over her shoulder. And I’m too stunned to say a word.

“Genevieve and Xavier are sick. Sounds like food poisoning but they’re too ill to take care of Gavin. He’s staying with me until they’re over whatever it is they have.”

“You were gone for hours.”

“I had to go to the market and pharmacy for them.”

“You didn’t answer my text.” I wonder if she did that on purpose. To make me panic.

“You know me. I don’t check my phone all the time.” That much is true. And I’ve never had to be concerned about it before. We were always together.

“I was worried.”

“I’m sorry you were worried but we’re fine.” We’re fine. She never misses an opportunity to remind me it isn’t just her anymore.

She moves toward the staircase, ending the discussion. “I think I should shower in case whatever Genevieve and Xavier have is contagious. I do not want to get sick again. Will you watch Gavin while I’m in the bathroom?”

A sleeping baby. I should be able to handle that much. “Sure.”

Rose puts Gavin in the middle of her bed. She pats his back and shushes him when he whines. “Shh. It’s okay, Gav. Go back to sleep.”

He fusses and Rose pets him while humming until be dozes off again. “How do you know to do that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Just feels like the right thing to do.”

“A mother’s instinct?”

“Maybe.” She slides to the edge of the bed when Gavin quietens. “I’ll be quick.”

“It’s okay. He’s asleep. You don’t have to rush.”

Rose goes into her bathroom and closes the door—shutting me out. There was a time when she’d leave it open as an invitation to join her. But not anymore.

I picture how she looks with soapy shampoo in her hair. Suds flowing down her naked body. Her hands moving in her hair making her breasts bounce. Her much more voluptuous breasts. They’re already growing. I haven’t touched them in six weeks but I see the change happening beneath her clothes. She’s more beautiful than ever, despite the absence of the twinkle she once had in her eyes.

I kick out of my shoes and sit on the side of the bed where I used to sleep when I’d come into Rose’s room. I take off my button-down and tie and lie on my old place in Rose’s bed.

Gavin frets a bit and I rub his back the way Rose did. And there it is—the instinct to soothe him—and he’s not even mine. There’s zero doubt in my mind. One look at our child and I’ll be a goner.

It can’t happen.

Rose comes out of the bathroom wearing a cami and shorts, hair still wet. So damn beautiful. I’ve missed seeing her fresh from the shower. Gone is the sexy lingerie from Alexis. Gone is the light in her eyes when she sees me.

“Oh, good. He’s still asleep. I was afraid he’d wake while I was showering.”

“We’re fine.”

She flips her head over to towel dry her hair, giving me a view straight down the front of her top. Her breasts are definitely growing. Damn.

“I hate asking you this but will you stay? I’m really nervous about him rolling off the bed. I would feel horrible if he got hurt while he was in my care.”

I don’t even have to think about it. “I can do that.”

“I’ll get his Pack ’n Play tomorrow if he has to stay another night.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind staying.”

She needs me and I don’t mind helping with Gavin. I want to be in this bed with her again, even if someone else’s baby is between us. God, I’ve missed sleeping with Rose. “Give me a sec to change out of my work clothes.”

Climbing into her bed feels like the old days—back before we became so complicated. She didn’t know I was sick. I didn’t know I was falling in love with her. And we hadn’t made a baby. Our most difficult decision was deciding what to have for dinner.

She takes one last look at Gavin and turns off the lamp. And I’m amazed by how even the smallest sound—like breathing—seems so much louder in the dark.

“I see my OB-GYN on Monday. I think they’ll do another ultrasound. Will you go to the appointment with me?”

I want to so badly. But I can’t let her know that. It isn’t fair. “No.”

She inhales deeply and then exhales. “Okay.” Her voice is so soft—flat—I barely hear it.

I want to apologize. Tell her how sorry I am she’s going to go through this alone. Let her know that my heart breaks every time I let her down. Show her that hurting her, hurts me.

But instead, I say nothing. Bringing her one step closer to hating me.

She should hate me. Despising me will make all of this a lot easier. God knows I already hate myself.

***

“Bastien?”

I look up from the photographs of my next potential listing and see Rose standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

She steps into my office and sees I’m not alone. “Oh, sorry. Helen wasn’t at her desk. I didn’t know you were with someone.”

“Not . . . a . . . problem, sweetheart,” my newest client, Victor Melton, says as his eyes explore her from head to toe.

“What do you need?”

She holds up what looks like a contract. “Just your signature on these papers but I can come back later. It’s not urgent.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Bring those papers on in here for your boss to sign.”

I give Rose a nod and Victor Melton’s eyes follow her every step as she crosses the room.

I’ve always liked her wearing those mile-high heels at work but not in this moment. I hate the way he’s watching her like he’s some kind of predator and she is his prey.

Rose stands so close I can smell her fruit and floral fragrance—peach and cherry blossoms. She has a fresh, clean scent. Never overpowering. Always perfect. And, damn, I’ve missed it.

“Four places.” I’ve signed this same contract hundreds of times but I feign a search for all the lines requiring my signature. I want to hold her in close vicinity for as long as possible. It’s been too long since her scent has invaded my senses.

She leans over me and points to the last page. “Also initial here.”

I lift my head and our faces are so close I could lean over and kiss her. And I might consider it if Victor Melton wasn’t in here. “That’s it?”

“For now. I’m leaving at one. Do you need anything done before I go?”

She has an appointment with her OB-GYN. They’re doing another ultrasound. She should find out the baby’s gender today. And I won’t be with her.

Not that she didn’t ask me to be. I guess she still holds out hope that one day I’ll give in and say yes. She has no idea how much I want to do that.

“Can’t think of anything right now.”

Victor Melton isn’t the only one watching her walk out the door.

Rose and I haven’t had a conversation about announcing her pregnancy to my employees at PPI. I haven’t told anyone. I suspect Rose hasn’t either since no one has mentioned a word about the baby. But they’ve also not mentioned anything about when she moved out of my office and into hers.

I’m certain everyone at the firm knows Rose and I are having relationship problems. Including Wendy. But even she hasn’t mentioned a word about it.

Her pregnancy won’t remain concealed for much longer. A week tops. She’s approaching the halfway mark. Her loose, long tops disguise it but her belly is growing. I steal glances at it when she isn’t looking and it’s easy to see Rose is blooming. I’m sure some people already suspect.

“That is one hot little number you have working for you. Who is she?” I’ve had about enough of Victor Melton, client or not.

“My girlfriend. Also the mother of my child.” That should shut him up.

I cut off any further talk about Rose by moving back to the contract we were discussing. But it doesn’t distract me from thinking about her and the joy she’ll be experiencing without me this afternoon. At least Vale will be there with her so she isn’t alone.

Five o’clock approaches and I’m unable to make myself stay at the office another minute. I know it’s not wise—and definitely not part of my plan to stay detached—but I’m dying to hear her tell me if it’s a boy or girl.

I know the second I enter the house that Rose has started dinner. Seafood, definitely. Shrimp, maybe? “Something smells delicious.”

She doesn’t even turn to look at me. “Shrimp étouffée.”

“One of my favorites.”

“Why are you here?” Her voice is deadpan, just as it is so much of the time now.

I haven’t come home this early in weeks, and I can’t recall the last time we sat down and ate together. No doubt she’s wondering why I’m here.

“Was a little tired.” Not a lie but it isn’t the reason I didn’t stay late at the office.

“You should be tired. You work too many hours.”

“Always a ton of work to be done.” She knows I’m using that as an excuse.

“Which is why you pay your many employees well. They should be taking care of the workload. Your job is to slow down and take care of your body. You shouldn’t mistreat it.”

She isn’t wrong. I’m pushing my body to a limit it no longer tolerates. My tremors are worsening, and I’m developing a twitch in my left shoulder. But my real wakeup call was when I fell while getting out of bed earlier this week. I think I’ll be forced to tell my employees soon. Better to do that before I take a tumble at work.

“I’m aware I’m doing too much.”

“And yet you do it anyway. You’re wrong if you think I don’t know you stay late at work every night to avoid seeing me. I don’t want you putting your health at risk when I can make this so much easier by leaving.”

“No.” I’m not ready for her to go.

“Bash, what we’re doing doesn’t make sense.”

“I said no.”

“What do you expect from me? I’m halfway through this pregnancy. The baby, which you want nothing to do with, is coming soon.”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have a plan yet.” I don’t want to have to think about it.

“You’d better be coming up with one soon. I can’t be pregnant and hanging in limbo. I need to secure a place for the baby and me to live.”

“I’m not ready to make this decision. November is still a ways off. We have time.”

She huffs and turns her back on me. It actually lifts my spirits a little; reminds me of my mother when she was annoyed with my father.

“Your visit with the doctor went okay?”

She hesitates before answering. “Fine.”

I’m relieved to know all is well but I’m a little irritated that a one-word answer is all I get. Not that I really deserve more.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Can’t think of anything.”

She isn’t volunteering any information. She’s going to make me ask. “The ultrasound went well?”

“Yes.”

“Were they able to tell what the baby is?”

“Yes.”

The woman is trying to kill me. “I want to know, Rose.”

She turns to look at me. “Why? You want nothing to do with this baby. It shouldn’t matter to you if it’s a boy or a girl. It would be easier to stay detached if you didn’t know.”

She isn’t wrong. “I’m sure it would be better if I didn’t find out but I can’t help myself. I want to know.”

Rose puts her hand over her stomach. “We’re having a boy. Our son is healthy and growing right on schedule.”

A boy. A son. I’ve always wanted one.

I cough to move the lump swelling in my throat but it doesn’t budge. “Thank you for telling me.”

Those words are all I’m able to say before I have to leave the kitchen to pull myself together.

I’m going to have a son.

I go to my bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I push my wet hands through my hair and look at myself in the mirror. I hate the person I see staring back at me.

That man wants to turn his back on his son. Give up on life because it doesn’t meet his criteria.

But there’s another man there too—the one behind the brown irises. He wants to fight. He wants to hold on to life with Rose and his unborn son. He dreams of having a happy family and life together.

Am I not the luckiest man in the world to have a beautiful woman, the mother of my son, who loves me regardless of my illness? Regardless of my prognosis. Regardless of the way I’ve treated her.

I pull myself together and return to the kitchen. Rose has prepared her dish of étouffée and is sitting alone at the table. Same as she has the last six weeks, I’m sure. “Mind if I join you?”

She looks up at me and seems startled. “I would like that.”

Rose and I once dined together every night at this table. She’ll never know how much I miss this time with her.

She lowers her fork. “I’m glad we’re doing this. I have something I want to discuss with you.”

I hope she doesn’t try to revisit the topic of moving out. It’s not happening.

“I want him to have your name.”

It’s a no-brainer for me. “He’s my son. A Pascal. Of course, I want him to have my name.”

“I want him to have your whole name. Bastien Auguste Pascal. And I want to call him Gus.”

Shit.

She wants to give our son my name? Despite me telling her to abort him? Despite me saying I’ll never see him? Despite being the prick Vale so aptly called me?

My heart swells in my chest to the point it feels like it may explode. And that bulge is back in my throat. Bigger this time than before.

“Gus. My mother would love that,” I choke out. Rose couldn’t possibly know that Gus was my mother’s nickname for me when I was a child.

God, I feel like such a bastard. Such a selfish and shitty man.

“You like the name Gus?”

“I love it. It’s perfect.” I’m going to have a son and he will bear my name. It’s so undeserved. How can she continue to give to me?

She gives because she loves.

She doesn’t smile at me anymore. Barely even looks at me, and yet I know she still loves me.

My body aches from the loss of her. Not just physically. Damn if I don’t miss that too, but it’s her. My Rose. My baby girl.

As time passes and the pregnancy progresses, I can’t imagine how hard it’ll be after Gus arrives. I don’t even want to think about it.

I won’t. It hurts too much.

THREE WEEKS LATER

-

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

__________________________________

ROSE MIDDLETON

∞

“Baby. Mama.”

I groggily open my eyes, still lost somewhere in the between stage of sleep and wake.

“Bae. Bae. Mama.”

My eyes widen and my heart tries to escape my body through my chest wall when I realize the yelling I’m hearing isn’t a dream. And it sounds like it’s coming from downstairs. Inside the house. And it’s not Bastien’s voice.

I get out of bed, slipping my robe over my gown as I walk to the staircase. “Bash?”

“It’s bae bae mama.” Who the hell is that?

“Stop calling her that, you asshole. I told you her name is Rose.” The tempo of Bash’s voice is sluggish. Maybe even a bit slurred.

Oh, God. I hope he hasn’t had some kind of episode while he was having dinner with his friend from college.

I wrap my robe around my body, secure it with the belt at my waist, and descend the stairs. “What happened to him?”

Bastien is sitting on the third step from the bottom, his forearms resting on his thighs. “Jack Daniels happened.”

Why would he do this? The idiot knows that mixing large quantities of alcohol with a muscle-weakening disease is asking for trouble. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe a little.”

“A little, hell. Pascal is hammered.” His friend slaps him on the shoulder. “Telling you. Just like old times.”

No, it’s not just like old times. And I’m well beyond ready for this asshole to go. “Thank you for bringing him home. I can take it from here.”

“You’re pregnant. Don’t you think you need some help getting him up the stairs?”

No way this guy is helping Bastien up the stairs. They’ll both end up taking a tumble. “We’ll manage.”

He holds his hands out, defensively, as though I’ve offended him. “Okay, bae bae mama. Whatever you say. You’re the boss lady.”

“Call me next time you’re in town. We’ll do this again.” They won’t if I have anything to do with it.

I stand over Bastien, my arms crossed, waiting for his drunkard pal to leave. I won’t mention his illness in front of his friend—or how irresponsible his actions are—but he’s batshit crazy if he thinks I’m letting this nonsense go.

Bastien doesn’t give me time to rip him a new one. “I know what you’re thinking but don’t be mad at me. I only had a few drinks. I’m really not that drunk.”

He’s so full of it. “Then why are you sitting at the bottom of the staircase needing my help to get to your bed?”

“The Jack and Coke hit a little harder and faster than it used to. I wasn’t expecting it. My body is a little unsteady but my mind is mostly with it.”

“You’re thirty-seven years old, Bastien. A grown man. I’m not going to chastise you. No point in it. You’re going to do whatever you want regardless of what I say.”

“Not true.”

I have no intention of standing here debating this. He’s not likely to remember anything I say anyway. “It’s late and I’m tired. I just want to go back to bed.”

“Sorry we were so disruptive. I didn’t intentionally wake you. I was going to sleep on the couch but Wesley wouldn’t stop yelling. The asshole wanted to get you out of bed so he could see if you were as hot as I said you were.”

I might be flattered by that if it weren’t the middle of the night.

“The couch isn’t a bad idea.”

Bastien uses the handrail for support as he pulls himself up. He lifts one foot and then the other, testing their strength. “My legs don’t feel unsteady. I’m fine to make it up the stairs.”

He can say he’s fine all day long but I’m not letting him climb these stairs. “I don’t share the same opinion, and I don’t want to find out which one of us is right.”

I know it’s something he wants to put off for as long as possible but he’s going to be forced to move his bedroom downstairs soon.

“I’ll go up and get a pillow and blanket. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

He doesn’t argue. Probably because he’s a bit drunker than he’s willing to admit and less than confident about making it to the top of the stairs.

Bastien’s on the sofa—out of his shirt and pants—with his head in his hands when I return with his bedding. “Already have a headache?”

“No. Just thinking.”

“About?”

He takes the pillow and blanket from me and tosses them to the floor. He grips the front of my robe and gown, pulling me closer so I’m standing between his legs. “You. Me. Us.”

He presses his forehead to the bump of my belly. “I miss you so much, Rose. You can’t possibly imagine how much.”

He’s wrong. So very wrong.

I shut my eyes and bask in the feel of his touch. I slide my fingers through the back of his hair and grip it. “I know how much I’ve missed you. And it hurts. So much it steals my breath and I can hardly breathe.”

His hands grasp the backs of my thighs beneath my nightgown and slowly move upward until his palms grip my cheeks. I’m a prisoner within the circle of his arms and I don’t want to escape. I want to stay exactly like this—wrapped in his embrace—forever.

His fingers slide into the waistband of my panties, and he fists the fabric. “I’m so tired of missing you.”

I cradle the sides of his face, forcing him to look up at me. “You don’t have to miss me. I’m right here. I never left you, not even for a minute.”

“I need you, Rose. I need you so badly.”

“You can have me. I’m yours. Always.” I untie the belt of my robe and push it off my shoulders, letting it fall to a puddle on the floor. “I love you, Bash. That’s never going to change.”

“I love you, too, baby girl.” His grip tugs downward, dragging my panties down my legs until they join my robe on the floor. My gown is the final piece to fall, and I’m standing naked in front of him.

He grips my hips and kisses my belly. “I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time.”

“You’re the only thing that’s been standing in the way.”

He steers me toward him using the grip he has on my body. “Closer.”

I go to my knees on the sofa to sit atop him. We haven’t been this close in months. I covet the feel of his skin pressed against mine. Being this near only makes me want to be closer. To become one.

This is the reason I stayed. The reason I held out hope. Vale was right. He just needed time to sort his thoughts and priorities. He now sees what he would lose by not being part of our lives.

I push at the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Get these off.”

My body moves with his when he lifts and lowers himself back down on the sofa. “Won’t hurt the baby?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s fine.”

And then nothing remains between us. We become one.

No beginning.

No end.

***

Bastien kisses the space between my breasts and then licks in an upward motion. “You taste salty.”

I giggle. “I think sweat usually does.”

He licks my skin again, evoking another snigger. “You’re still mighty sweet. And plenty spicy. Perfect combination.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze. “It feels so good to be in your arms again.”

“You might not have been in my arms, baby girl, but you were always in my heart.”

He squeezes my back and my swollen belly pushes against his abdomen. He releases me and looks down between us, touching my tummy.

“Our son is growing.” I love hearing him say our son. “Lie on the couch. I want to explore.”

I move off Bastien and lie flat on my back. He presses his palm to the center of my chest and slowly drags it downward, stopping between my breasts. “These have gotten bigger. More than a handful now.”

My nipple grows hard beneath his touch when his hand slides over to palm one of my breasts. All of my nerve endings are firing at once. “Bigger and more sensitive,” I say.

“They were great before but I like this version too. A lot.”

“I bet you do.” Bastien has made it no secret. He loves my boobs.

His hand moves lower, over my bump, and he leans down to kiss it. “Hey, Gus. This is your dad. Everything going okay in there?”

Oh. My. God. Hearing him talk to Gus makes my heart melt into a puddle on the floor. It’s . . . overwhelming.

He rubs his hand in a circular motion around my tummy. “I can’t believe there’s a part of me growing inside you. It doesn’t seem real.”

“It didn’t seem real to me either. Not until I started feeling him move.”

Bastien lifts his head to look at me. “You already feel him moving?”

“Yeah. I have for a month. Maybe longer. He’s still small so it’s not strong, but he lets me know he’s in there.”

“You didn’t say anything about it.”

“We’ve hardly said anything to each other in weeks.” When he raises his eyes to look at me, I know he understands the raw honesty behind my statement.

He presses his forehead to my stomach. “Oh, God. This whole thing is so messed up.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“I can’t make myself better.”

“I don’t know how to beat it into your head that your illness doesn’t matter to me. I love you, degenerative muscle disorder or not. Wheelchair or not. Bedridden or not. I don’t care as long as I have you.”

He lifts his head, shaking it. “And I don’t know how to make you understand that it does matter to me. The prognosis I’ve been given is not the life I want.”

“You have a son on the way. He needs his father. I need his father. I don’t want to do this alone.” I’ve been on my own. But I don’t want to go there again. Even with Vale to help with Gus, the thought of raising a child without Bastien is terrifying.

“You’ll always be taken care of. Even after I’m gone, you won’t ever have to worry.” He kisses my stomach again. “I need to know you’ll tell my son how much I loved him.”

Did he really just say that to me?

What is happening here?

It feels like the pendulum swung one way and now it’s swinging back again.

“No. I will not do that.” I shake my head. “You’ll have to tell him yourself.”

I push Bastien away, get up from the sofa, and bend down to get my clothes from the floor. “Really? We’re back to that place again?”

“We were never not at that place. Why would you think otherwise?”

“How ’bout telling me you’re tired of missing me. Claiming you need me. Kissing my belly and talking to Gus. Saying you’ve been wanting to do that for so long. You don’t think that led me to believe something had changed?”

“Everything I said is true, but it doesn’t mean I’ve changed my plan. I’m still going through with it.” He reaches out for me but I step away from his touch.

“I swear I didn’t mean to mislead you to think otherwise.” I seriously love this man, but right now, I don’t like him worth a damn.

How the hell did he think he could make love to me without making me believe it was a sign something had changed? How can one man be so incredibly extraordinary while equally selfish?

He’s not going to change. Not for me. Not for his son.

What the hell am I still doing here?

I should have left weeks ago.

“Gus and I will never be enough of a reason for you to stick it out and try. I get that now.” It’s hardly bearable to acknowledge but it’s sinking in.

“I’m sorry I keep hurting you. I swear I don’t mean to.”

I step into my panties and pull them up. “I know it wouldn’t be easy. But in the end, it would have been worth it. We would have been worth it.” I pull my gown on over my head. “This was the last time. I’m done begging you to stay.”

He grasps my wrist. “I don’t want you to go like this.”

“I’m heartbroken, Bash.” I pull my wrist free of his hold. “You’ve given me no choice. There is no other way for me to go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

Rose hasn’t spoken to me in two days. I keep thinking—and holding out hope—she’ll come around and say something. Anything. But I get nothing.

I walk into the kitchen and she leaves. I knock on her bedroom door and she doesn’t answer. I see her in the hall at work and she turns and walks in the opposite direction.

To say I’m excited to see her standing in my bedroom doorway is a huge understatement. “Rose.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Of course. Come in.” I scoot over, giving her a spot on the bed next to me like I’ve always done. Desperately hoping she’ll come to me.

Holding her again. Sharing those raw, bare, exposed moments. Being inside the woman I love. All reminders of how deeply I miss her.

This is where she belongs.

She shakes her head. “Everything I need to say can be said from here.”

Shit.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about our relationship since we were together the other night. I’ve made some important decisions I need to tell you about.”

Important decisions. Those two words scare the hell out of me. “Okay.”

“It’s time for me to go.” There it is. What I’ve been terrified of hearing from her.

“No. You’re not leaving.”

“I stayed because I thought I could change your mind. I see now how very wrong I was to believe that.”

“I’m not ready for you to go.”

“And I’m not ready for you to die. But that hasn’t changed your mind. I have always been all in, Bash. I’ve loved you for so much of our time together, but I can’t keep the flame of hope alive anymore. You have made up your mind. I love you, but I’m deciding it’s time to part.”

“I could argue that I paid two million dollars to have you here with me for thirty-six months or until I decide you go.” It’s a shitty thing to say, but I’m grasping at straws.

“You could but it isn’t going to stop us from leaving.” She puts her hand on top of her belly. “I’m almost six months pregnant. I need to be setting up a nursery and preparing a home for Gus. I can’t do that here.”

“We’ll turn the guest room beside your bedroom into the nursery. You can do anything you want with it. Hell, you can make it adjoining if you want. I’ll call Michelle tomorrow and she can have it done in a few days.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Turning the other guest room into a nursery means Gus will come home to this house. Contact with him will be inevitable. You’ve told me that’s not what you want. Has that changed?”

I can’t see him. I can’t hear him. There’ll be no going back if I do. “No.”

“Then the decision is made. I’m moving out tomorrow, and I won’t be back to work at PPI.”

If she leaves like this, I will never see her. Probably never again.

I’ve lost my parents and my brother, but nothing compares to this very real and agonizing pain in my chest.

But I have no one else to blame but myself.

“Where will you go?”

“Vale said I can have my old room until I find an apartment.”

She has a plan. She’s really leaving. “You’re killing me, Rose.”

She smiles a small smile, but her eyes tell me she’s not sure if she should laugh or cry. “You’ve got that backwards. I’ve done nothing but try to save you. You’re the one killing yourself. Literally.”

“You have to know that none of this is what I want. You can’t imagine how this decision is tearing me apart. I want you. I want our son. I want our happily ever after. But that isn’t the way our story ends.”

“Each of us writes our own story, Bastien. You’ve chosen a tragedy. Trust me. I know one when I see it. That’s what my life was until a few years ago. I won’t go back there, and I won’t drag my son into that kind of agony. So go on and live out your tragedy.”

Looking down at her left hand I watch her do something I never wanted to see. Removal of the ring that has graced her left ring finger. She’s letting me go. Severing us. It feels like slow motion watching her gaze at the ring, then place it on the dresser by the door. “Your tragedy is completely your choice. But you’ll do it without Gus and me.”

That’s the last thing she says before walking out of my bedroom. And my life. It feels so final. Like those last two words at the conclusion of a story.

The end.

***

I’ve been lying awake all night, tossing around everything Rose said. She isn’t wrong. I have chosen to live out a tragedy when I could have an epic love story. Maybe not with the ending I’d want, but isn’t that what would make our story so great? That we took what time we had and made the most of it?

I don’t want to live out this tragedy. I want the love story with Rose. I want our version of a happily ever after.

“Bash!”

I hear Rose scream my name and the urgency in her voice launches my heart into a gallop. I jolt out of my bed, dashing across the hall, my muscles on fire and in overdrive in a way I haven’t felt in months. Like I don’t have a degenerative muscle disease slowly destroying my body.

I turn on the light and see Rose holding her belly, grimacing. “Something’s wrong. My stomach is hard. It won’t relax . . . and I’m having a lot of pain. I need to call the doctor.”

“Okay.” I take her phone off the charger stand on the bedside table. “His number is in your contacts?”

“Yes. Dr. Reynolds.”

I’m scrolling through the names when she tosses the covers back. “It feels like something is coming out down there.”

You never want to hear a pregnant woman say that.

My knees nearly buckle when I see the huge dark red stain on the bedding beneath her. “Bash, I’m bleeding.”

She isn’t just bleeding. She’s hemorrhaging. “We’re not wasting time calling the doctor. You’re going to the hospital right now.”

Rose groans when I scoop her out of her bed. “Ohh, it hurts.”

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry.”

I descend the stairs with her, praying with every step that my arms and legs don’t give out and send us plummeting down the staircase. Even almost six months pregnant, she is still so light.

I set her in the passenger’s seat and recline it all the way down before buckling her seatbelt. “I’m losing him, aren’t I?”

“I don’t think so.” I hate lying to her. I’m so afraid she can see the alarm in my eyes. Hear it in my voice. But it’s impossible to not suspect she’s miscarrying after seeing that much blood.

“I am. I know I am.” Her voice is barely more than a sob.

“Hey. Gus is a Pascal. He’s a tough little Cajun fighter.”

She groans and grabs her stomach when I take a turn a little too sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to hurry.”

“It’s not you. The pain is getting worse on its own, whether I move or not.”

The bright lights of the hospital sign are a welcome sight. She reaches for the handle on the door when the car comes to a stop at the entrance to the women’s hospital. “Stay put. I’ll go inside to get someone.”

I return with a trio of hospital employees and turn Rose over into their care. “When you’ve parked the car, go to the admissions desk and the clerk will direct you where to come.”

A staff of four, including her OB-GYN, is surrounding Rose when I’m shown into her exam room. Each is performing a different task at once. Ultrasound. IV. Taking blood. Medical history. Lots of talking going on at the same time.

“You’re abrupting. That means the baby’s placenta is tearing away from the uterus. That’s the source of the bleeding and pain.” The doctor removes the ultrasound wand from Rose’s stomach. “Abruption is a medical emergency when the baby is viable. Viability is considered twenty-four weeks. You’re three days away from that point if your due date is correct.”

Does that mean the baby isn’t far enough along to live?

“Is it possible I’m further along? Closer to viability?” Rose’s voice is trembling.

“It’s always possible but from your early ultrasound I believe your due date is right on target. Your gestation is a gray area. There’s around a thirty percent chance your baby would survive delivery at this point, but not without major complications and likely lifelong deficits. We can go either way with your care. Do nothing, as long as you remain stable, and let nature take its course. Or we can act quickly and do everything possible to save the baby despite the long road he would have. There is no right or wrong decision.”

We need more information to make this decision. “If he survives, what kind of deficits are we talking about?”

“Only around thirteen percent of these micro babies will have no long-term physical and mental problems. The remaining percent will have disabilities that can range from mild to severe. Those deficits can be difficulties with breathing, hearing, vision, muscle control. Some will never walk. They may have very low IQ. Many will be deaf or blind.”

Rose looks at me, tears rolling from the corners of her eyes toward her hairline instead of down her cheeks. I reach over and wipe them away. “Tell me what you want, baby girl.”

“To do everything we can for him.”

If he survives, Gus could be severely disabled. He’s so premature. I’m not sure trying to save him is the best decision for him.

But how do I tell Rose that?

“I love Gus. I would give my life in place of his in an instant. I want him to live . . . but not if he’s going to suffer. I don’t want that for him. And I don’t think you do either.”

“I can’t bear knowing he died because we didn’t try everything to save him. I would never forgive myself, Bash.”

“I understand that, but his chances of survival without physical and mental difficulties are very low. He could have very severe complications.”

Rose is wearing her blinders again. She can’t consider that letting him go might be more humane than prolonging his life.

“I don’t need him to be perfect. I just need him to be alive. And with me. It’s no different than the way I feel about you.”

The doctor is still standing at Rose’s bedside. “I’m sorry to rush you, but we don’t have a lot of time to decide.”

The harsh reality of our situation hits me—doesn’t matter which way we decide. Rose and I could lose Gus tonight. Suddenly, all the problems we’ve encountered along the way getting to this place seem so insignificant.

Oh God, please take care of Rose and our baby. Please don’t take our little one before he’s had a chance to live.

Rose is right. We have to give him the chance to survive. “She wants to do everything possible for our son so that’s what we’ll do.”

“All right. Let’s get her prepped and moved for surgery.”

I lean over to kiss the top of her head, and she wraps her arms around me. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice is a trembling sob. “I didn’t know anything was wrong.”

“This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything to cause this.” If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I’ve caused Rose so much pain and stress and anguish.

I step away so the nurses can get to Rose. It’s a lot to take in at once, seeing so many things done to her simultaneously. And I have no control over any of it. I’m helpless. All I can do is sit back and watch, hoping these people know what they’re doing.

Nurses whirl around her, and within a few minutes, I’m watching them push her away for surgery. I walk beside her, holding her hand.

“Next time I see you, you’ll be a father.”

You’ll be a father. It’s hard to believe.

“And you’ll be a mother.”

Her hand is trembling in mine. She’s so frightened. I need to reassure her. “He’s going to be okay. You’re going to okay. We’re going to be okay. A happy life. A happy family. That’s what we’re going to be.”

The bed slows as we approach the door entering the surgical unit.

“You can’t go beyond this point, sir.”

“Okay.” I lean down and kiss the top of her hand before releasing it. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too.”

I stand in the hallway—numb—watching my world, my life—my love—roll away to the operating room. I’m filled with terror and completely uncertain of the turn our lives are about to take.

“Mr. Middleton. Do you have any family with you?”

Mr. Middleton. The irony. At this moment, I have been linked to Rose, and not the other way around like the many times before. Either way, we belong together forever. She will have my name. Soon.

“Not yet but she’s on her way.” Thank God I had the good sense to call Vale while I was parking the car. I wouldn’t have had a chance once the ball started rolling. I can’t believe how fast everything has happened.

I’m escorted to a small waiting room with a half dozen chairs to await word on Rose and Gus. I sit—alone—and the thought of spending the rest of my life without them consumes me to the point that my chest feels like it’s tightening, and I can’t catch my breath.

I’m instantly relieved when the door opens and Vale enters. “Dear, God. What happened?”

“They’re doing an emergency C-section.”

“What happened with the baby?”

I try to recall what the doctor said. It’s all sort of a blur now. “Rose was hemorrhaging. I think the doctor said the placenta was tearing away from the uterus or something like that.”

“Oh, damn. That sounds serious.”

“He was dying, Vale. And despite doing everything possible to save him, he may still die.” I say the words and the gravity of losing Gus sinks in. And I’m so ashamed I didn’t embrace the value of his life from the moment she told me she was pregnant. “We can’t lose him.”

“You’re not going to lose him. Dr. Reynolds is going to do everything within his power and skills to make sure your baby survives.”

Vale and I sit in silence, waiting. And wait some more. My nerves are on edge and I jolt out of my seat when the door of the private waiting room opens.

The neonatologist caring for Gus comes in and introduces herself. “Your son is tiny—but that was expected.”

“He’s alive?”

“Hanging in there. What do you plan on calling him?”

“Gus.”

“Gus. I like that.” She scribbles on a notepad and returns it to her pocket. “We’ve taken Gus to the neonatal intensive care unit. The first thing we’ll do is get him stabilized with all of his lines in place and do X-rays to confirm placement. After that’s done, we’ll let you and his mom come into the nursery to meet him. Usually takes a few hours to get all of the busy work out of the way, but we’ll give the nurse a call and let her know when you can come into the nursery. When you do, I’ll speak with you more about his prognosis.”

“Thank you so much.”

My son survived. I’m actually a father.

Vale wraps her arms around me. “Congratulations, Daddy.”

Daddy. I didn’t think I’d ever be called that by anyone. I can’t believe how much I like hearing it.

I’ve been so wrong about everything. And so stubborn. I’m beyond ashamed of the way I’ve treated Rose and Gus—like they’re less than the most important people in the world.

Shit. I have so much to make up for with both of them. Rose was right. Each of us writes our own story, and I can choose a different ending. I am choosing to live. For Rose, and for Gus. My love. My son. There is no choice. Not anymore. They’re mine.

***

“My belly is burning so bad. On fire. And I need to throw up.”

One gag and I’m immediately standing beside Rose with a plastic basin. “Turn your head. You can get sick in this.”

She dry heaves but nothing comes up. “Oh, God. My stomach. It feels like it’s going to rip open.”

“The nurse said you should hold a pillow over your incision when you cough or strain.”

Her eyes flutter open. “Gus?”

“He’s here. They haven’t let me see him yet but the doctor told me they’d call when they’re ready for us to come into the nursery to meet him.”

“He’s alive,” she sobs. “I was so terrified I was going to wake from surgery and be told he didn’t make it.”

I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be put to sleep under general anesthesia not knowing what was going to happen to your child and wake up, still not knowing.

“He made it, baby. He’s a Pascal.”

Her eyes close but she grins. “Our little Cajun fighter.”

“Our tiny Cajun fighter, according to the doctor.”

Her eyes flutter open again. She’s so sedated. “How tiny?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”

“He’s alive. That’s what matters. He’ll grow in time.”

I want to tell Rose how sorry I am. How much regret I feel for the way I’ve treated her and Gus but she’s in pain. Medicated. Nauseous. She might not even remember the conversation tomorrow. Now isn’t the right time.

Rose finally gets relief from her medication and relaxes enough to doze off. So I do too. It was a long night.

When I open my eyes again, Rose’s nurse is shaking my arm. “The nursery is ready for you and Miss Middleton to come see your baby.”

I instantly go from groggy to wide awake.

“Rose.” She’s slower to wake than me. “Rose. The nursery is ready for us to come meet Gus.”

Her eyes startle open the minute I say his name. “Gus? We can go see him?”

“Yes. Time to go meet our baby boy.”

***

Our son is tiny—only a pound and one ounce. The nursery staff tells us he’ll probably lose weight before he gains. He’ll be less than a pound. That’s a terrifying thought. His body is already so small and frail that it could easily fit into the palm of my hand.

But he’s a survivor. And he’s ours.

Our boy has been in our lives two days. Only forty-eight hours and my heart is overflowing with love and affection for him. The growing attachment is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t know a person could become your entire world in such a short amount of time.

I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be alive. And with me.

Rose’s words. They finally make sense.

Gus deserves all the best things in life. That includes parents who are raising him together. And that’s exactly what I will ensure happens. It’s a privilege.

“You’re being discharged tomorrow.”

“I came into the hospital with a baby in my belly and I’m leaving without one in my arms. Everything about that is wrong.”

I pull her into my arms, kissing her head with every apology and word of love I’ve yet to speak. I can’t imagine what it’s like to carry our baby for so long and then leave without him.

“We’ll be here every day, Rose. I promise. Together. We’ll be here together.”

“Thank you.” She has no reason to thank me, my beautiful stubborn woman.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. You’ve given me a child. Carried him. Kept him safe.” I feel ill when I recall telling Rose to abort him. “I was so very wrong. Please forgive me.”

She looks up at me and the look of love in her eyes is nearly my undoing. “All of that is over. It’s in the past.”

“You’re so quick to forgive all the ways I’ve mistreated you.” It feels like I should be punished for all the wrong I’ve committed against Rose and Gus. How did I ever think I could live without them?

“What would I accomplish by hanging on to something you’ve already asked me to forgive?”

“I feel so guilty. And selfish. And like a coward.” Gus was an innocent baby I wanted to do away with because his existence didn’t fit into my plan. Rose was so right. “I couldn’t comprehend then how much I was going to love him.”

“It was a little different for me because he was inside me. I felt him. I knew he was there but you disconnected from him so early on that you had to actually meet him to know.”

Nothing about turning my back on Gus is okay. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it. The only thing I can do is try to make up for it. Be there for him, and Rose, every step of this long, difficult journey we have ahead of us.

I’m ready to begin making things right. “We haven’t discussed your living arrangements since you told me you were moving out.”

“There’s been so much going on with Gus that I haven’t really given it a lot of thought.”

“I have and I want you to come home with me. It’s the only place you belong. And when it’s time for Gus to leave the hospital, he’s coming to our home too. I want to raise him there. Together. He’s going to need both of us.”

She isn’t saying anything. Or reacting. “How do you feel about that?”

“You know that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be with you and raise our son together.”

First we were companions. Then best friends and lovers. But now? Now we’re parents. And I still want so much more with Rose.

I want her to be my wife. On paper in addition to my heart. My Mrs. Pascal. I’m ready to commit to our lives together. Our future.

She deserves the perfect ring on the perfect night with the perfect proposal.

And that’s what I’m going to give her.

EPILOGUE

__________________________________

BASTIEN PASCAL

–

“Gus. Sit down, son, before you fall.” I wrap my arm around his midsection but my grip is weak. There isn’t a worse combination when you’re holding an energetic two-and-a-half-year-old.

I can’t believe how far he’s come from being that tiny little one-pound newborn. Lung issues. Minor brain bleeds. That didn’t feel so minor at the time. Sleep apnea. Gastrointestinal problems. Despite the countless complications in the earlier part of his life, he dodged a lot of bullets.

Doesn’t matter what long-term hurdles he faces in the future. He is perfect to us just as he is.

He’s so much like me as a child. Rough. Rowdy. Rambunctious. All of those R words that describe little boys. This kid is in overdrive all the time. And there’s never a time when I’m not afraid my arms will give out and I’ll drop him. I’m terrified I’ll be the one to cause him harm.

“Down, Doddy.” Doddy—I’m grateful every time that comes out of my son’s mouth but I’m not sure I’ll ever feel worthy of being called his daddy. How can I after spending months telling Rose I didn’t want him?

My wife tells me all the time that I have to let it go. It’s in the past and I have to forgive myself. I hope I can one day. I don’t want the burden of carrying this guilt the rest of my life, no matter how long or short that may be.

Gus grips my pants and uses them to safely lower himself down my legs. He’s a cyclone, spinning like Taz, The Tasmanian Devil, the minute his feet hit the floor. Or at least that’s what it feels like when you’re the one in charge of watching him and your mobility isn’t what it used to be.

Of course he runs toward the kitchen where Rose is. I’m not doing a great job of keeping him out of her hair while she cooks Christmas dinner. “Gus man. Come back in here and play with the new toys Papa Noël brought you.”

Rose comes into the living room, our son wrapped around her hip. “It’s okay. I just put the turkey breast in the oven. I was about to take a break for a minute anyway.”

I don’t like her standing on her feet for long periods of time. “You need to break at least once an hour and put your feet up for ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Good grief, Bash. I won’t ever finish cooking the meal if I take those kinds of breaks.”

She wants so desperately to cook Christmas dinner for me just like my mom did. It’s such a thoughtful gesture but maybe it would be better to tackle when she isn’t pregnant and so close to her due date. “I wish you’d let me help.”

“I want to do everything by myself this year. Show you all the things I’ve learned in Bastien’s Cajun kitchen the last few years.”

I already know what a great culinary student she is. There’s nothing to prove. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.”

Gus slides off her hip, down her leg and takes off toward his collection of new toys on the floor. She moves her hands to her lower back and bows backward slightly. She looks so cute standing there in her cherry print apron. She still honors my mother by wearing it. Cooking our family recipes.

“Are you hurting?”

“I’m fine. You have to get over this fear. The doctors said the abruption was random with Gus. The odds of it happening again are slim to none.”

Rose doesn’t understand how helpless I feel. We’re two years further down the ALS road with this pregnancy. The last three months have been especially bad. My body has begun to fail me. If she has complications, I can’t lift and carry her to the car like I did when she was bleeding with Gus. “I won’t be at ease until this baby is safely here in our arms.”

“Stop worrying. Marie-Grace is going to be fine.”

I’m still in awe of this woman for wanting to honor my mother, a woman she never met, by naming our daughter after her. “Come here. I want to feel MG move.”

Rose comes to me and stands next to my wheelchair so I press the side of my face against her belly. It’s only a few seconds before I feel our baby girl in motion. “She’s been active today?”

“Been having a dance party in there all morning.”

“I like it when she’s active. Reassures me that everything is going as it should be.”

Rose pushes her fingers into my hair and rubs my scalp. “Always the worrier.”

I’ve been too careless with the value of life. First, my own and then my son’s. I won’t make that mistake ever again. Although I expected it to be hard for Rose to forgive me, for us to get back to how comfortable and in love we were just after Hawaii, spending those weeks and months together at the hospital with Gus cemented our love. When she allowed me to place my mother’s ring back onto her finger, I knew our love was permanent. Safe. She held me. She loved me. She was grace. My steadfast rock. And she is still today. So much so, that I can’t help worrying about her now. “I worry because you and Gus and Marie-Grace are my world.”

“I know, Bash. It’s evident in everything you say and do.”

***

I awaken to Rose shaking my shoulder. “Sorry. I’ll turn over.”

“I’m not waking you up because you’re snoring.”

My eyes pop open and I lift my head. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t freak out.”

“Telling me to not freak out makes me freak out.”

“I just felt a gush. I’m pretty sure my water broke.”

I hear the word gush and broke and have flashbacks. Seeing the woman you love lying in an enormous pool of blood is a sight you never get out of your head. “I knew you shouldn’t have been standing in that kitchen all day cooking.”

“I’m okay. She’s okay. But I need to get up and make sure that’s what it is before we go barreling down to the hospital to be told she moved and pressed pee out of my bladder.”

“Are you having pain?”

“No. I’m just super wet.”

I haven’t driven in three months. Not since the muscle weakness worsened. “We’ll need to call Vale to drive us.”

“Don’t do it just yet. Let me go to the bathroom first and make sure that’s what’s happening.”

She strains to get out of bed and grunts. “Oh, that’s definitely not pee. I have no control over what’s flowing out down there.”

“Then baby girl is coming tonight?”

“I’m pretty positive.”

I use the remote to lift the head of my side of the bed so I can start trying to get out. That doesn’t happen easily these days.

Rose gets out of bed and waddles around to my side. “Stop, Bash. Let me help you.”

She’s about to give birth, and she’s concerning herself with me. Of course. “I’m slow but I can manage. You and the baby are the important ones. Do what needs to be done for you first.”

She’s hurting. I see the pain in her expression. And she’s lying to me about it; she doesn’t want me to panic.

“You always say I’m the worrier. I think you’re the real worrier.” I smile so she doesn’t realize that I know her secret. I’ll let her keep believing she’s fooling me. “I’ll be fine. Slow, but fine. Tend to you so we can go to the hospital and get MG.”

I hate everything about this. It’s not how this should be. My wife is about to give birth. She shouldn’t be standing here forced to care for me instead of herself and our unborn child. “Go, Rose. See to yourself.”

“Okay, but let me grab some clothes for you first. You can be working on changing into those while I get ready.”

Rose goes into my closet and calls out. “Black athletic pants with a T-shirt and jacket?”

“That’ll be fine.” The fact that I’m wearing something called an athletic suit when I can barely stand on my own is a joke. My recent wardrobe is comparable to that of a pregnant woman. Stretchy and elastic. Jeans have become nearly impossible and the struggle of getting into and out of trousers isn’t worth the hassle.

She tosses my clothes on the bed. “I’ll hurry.”

I chuckle when she leans down to kiss my mouth. “Yeah. Like that’s a possibility, Mrs. Pascal. You’re about as slow as your husband these days.”

She puts her hand on top of my head and ruffles my hair. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious, Mr. P.”

“I’ll be performing here all week.”

“Can you call Vale while I get ready?”

I reach for my phone on the bedside table. “On it.”

“Since it’s so late, should I call Genevieve to come stay with Gus? I hate to get him out of bed.”

I don’t want to leave our little man here. “I wanted him to be at the hospital to meet his sister.”

“That would be fine if it weren’t approaching midnight.”

Rose is right. No two-year-old needs to be pulled out of bed in the middle of the night. “She can bring him to the hospital as soon as he wakes up in the morning.”

Rose grabs her phone from the bedside table. “We’re assuming she can come. I better make sure before we make arrangements with Vale.”

“Vale will do whatever we need her to.” She has never let Rose or me down. Not once. And I know she wouldn’t miss the birth of our next little angel for anything in the world.

Rose gives me a thumbs up as she speaks to Genevieve so I phone V. “Only one reason you’d be calling me this late on Christmas night.”

“Water broke.”

“I figured something like that would happen after she stood on her feet working all day.”

“I told her to take it easy, but you know my wife. She does what she wants.”

“I’m still dressed. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“We’ll be ready to roll.”

I change my shirt first since its easiest and work on my pants next. Yes, this process moves quicker and easier with Rose’s assistance but she comes first.

She’s quiet. I don’t like it. I need her to keep talking to me so I know she’s all right. “Do you think we’ll have a Christmas baby?”

“Maybe. If she’s not here before twelve, I bet it won’t be long after midnight.”

Marie-Grace will be delivered by repeat C-section. We won’t have the hours of waiting during labor and delivery the natural way. They told us this surgery would be different than her delivery with Gus. She can stay awake and I can go into the OR with her. I doubt there is anything more amazing than being there when my daughter is born.

“Do we want that? For her birthday to be on Christmas? Seems like her special day will always be downplayed.”

“Doesn’t matter whether we want it or not. She’s coming.”

I manage to get into my pants and prepare to transfer to my wheelchair. Thank God I’m still able to do that much for myself. I’m not ready to hire a full-time caregiver. I want our life to stay just like this. As normal as possible. Just our little family of four in our home for as long as it’s feasible.

“Are you doing okay in there?”

“Brushin’ teef.” Her voice is muffled and I adore the way “teeth” comes out as “teef.” Reminds me of how Gus jabbers.

Rose is grimacing, eyes shut, and breathing deeply when I wheel into the bathroom. Vale needs to get here now. “Breathe in and out slow and deep, baby.”

She gives in to the pain and leans over to brace herself on the bathroom countertop. “I should have known there was no fooling you.”

“Not even for a minute.”

V arrives and Rose sneaks into Gus’s bedroom to see him before we go. “Gussy, we’re going to get Marie-Grace.” She leans down and kisses the top of his forehead. “I love you, sweet boy.”

She rubs his back in a circular motion and wipes a tear from her cheek. “It feels wrong to leave him here but I know we have to.”

“We’ll see him first thing in the morning. Less than twelve hours.”

“We’ll be a family of four next time we see our little peanut. Can you believe that?”

“It’s one of the most surreal moments in my life.”

***

A nurse rolls my wheelchair to the door of the OR and then assists me to a stool placed next to Rose’s head. I can’t believe this is it. We will soon get to meet our daughter.

Rose is lying on a surgical table covered with blue drapes, her arms spread wide and secured to arm boards. The room is freezing cold, the lights bright. She’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering. She looks miserable. Not a reassuring sight.

I stroke my hand over the top of her head the way I used to after a nightmare. “Are you okay?”

She nods but I know better. She’s scared to death. Understandably. “You’re doing great, baby girl.”

Rose smiles. “I’m not going to be your baby girl anymore after Marie-Grace gets here.”

“You will always be my baby girl.” That brings a huge smile to her face.

Rose’s doctor calls out, “Just made the uterine incision. Won’t be long now.”

I stroke the top of her head. “Only a few more minutes and we finally get to meet her.”

The room immediately fills with the sound of loud suctioning. “She has a pretty little face. Let’s see what the rest of her looks like.”

Oh God. This is it. Our little girl is about to make her entrance into this world. On Christmas night.

A high-pitched cry fills the room. The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“What’s this beautiful girl’s name?”

“Marie-Grace.”

The doctor lifts her above the blue drape so we can have our first look. “Mr. and Mrs. Pascal, meet your daughter. Marie-Grace, here are your parents.”

She squints and screams, completely pissed off that she was stolen from her warm, quiet, and safe cocoon. “Omigod, Bash. Look at that face. She’s beautiful.”

“She’s so different from Gus. I can’t believe how huge she is.”

A nurse comes to take MG from the doctor and places her on Rose’s chest. She strokes her hand over the top of her head. “Hello, my sweet darling girl. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

The nurse wipes her off and covers her head with a beanie before tucking her inside Rose’s hospital gown so they’re skin to skin. “I didn’t get to do any of this with Gus.”

My precious Rose woke up in the recovery room and was told our son might or might not live. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.

“I can’t believe how much hair she has. Gus didn’t have more than three strands until he was six months old.”

Our boy has a headful of thick, nearly black hair now. “He has certainly made up for not having any for the first part of his life.”

Marie-Grace squirms on Rose’s chest, her mouth opening and rooting against her skin. Rooting. I learned that word this time around since Gus was fed by a feeding tube.

Rose’s pregnancy and Marie-Grace’s birth have been so different from when Gus was born. Picture perfect in every way. I’m equally delighted to have her and sad she’ll be our last. Although I realize the blessing and miracle that she is, I would have loved to have had at least one more child.

“Thank you, Rose. Thank you for being my world.” I don’t get all of my words out before blurry eyes accompany tightness in my throat. “Thank you for our beautiful, healthy, perfect-to-us children whom I love with all of my heart. Thank you for giving me a reason to live.”

How was I to know that this girl, whom I only wanted to share a companionship with, would become my guardian angel? My lifesaver. The life preserver in the sea where I hadn’t realized I was drowning in the deepest and darkest waters.

Tears roll down the sides of her face into her hair. “I could never give up on you. Never will.”

Life is precious. I had no appreciation for it before Rose. But then again, I didn’t appreciate a lot of things before she became the light in my frequently dim world.

There’s no way to predict what my future holds or even how long I have to live. But I’m certain that I will treasure every day God gives me on this earth with my beloved family. I’ll never take another moment for granted. I just needed her to stay. With me.

The End

EXCERPT: INDULGE

A steamy standalone novel from Georgia Cates

Beau Emerson is no gentleman.

Those hazel eyes.

That filthy mouth.

That greedy, hard body.

It all equates to one thing. Irresistible.

One look and I know he’ll bruise my lips and scar my knees. He’ll give me the best nine days of my life while ruining me in the most beautiful way imaginable. And I’ll let him because he has the power to talk me into anything.

Except one thing.

Staying.

I have no choice. The things I desire from him will destroy me in the end. I want more than he’s capable of giving––something true and beautiful.

He can never know how much of me belongs to him. Too much is at stake.

Shh … don’t tell him he’s my everything.

My name is Anna James Bennett. And this is our story.

PROLOGUE

ANNA JAMES BENNETT

I sigh as I toss the thick legal envelope across the island in Meredith’s gourmet kitchen. The proof of my marriage’s dissolution barely comes to a stop before plummeting over the edge. “It’s final, as of today.”

My best friend, Meredith, squeals. “Yes. This calls for a celebratory drink.”

The word celebratory implies happiness or joy. That isn’t the case for me. My husband of twelve months left me for a nineteen-year-old. A kid. His former student.

Fucker.

He swears nothing happened while she was his pupil.

Liar.

He claims it’s true love.

Dumbass.

Drake’s relationship with Caitlyn is fleeting. She’s an immature teen who wants to play house. The paint won’t dry on the walls of their new apartment before she’s ready to bail.

“I’ve been saving this one for a special occasion.” Ahh. A bottle of Wittmann Westhofener Morstein Riesling. Always rich in body and texture. My favorite.

Gulp. Gulp. The bottle gurgles as Meredith pours far more than three ounces. My glass is three-quarters full when she presses two fingers against the base and glides it across the sleek Carrara marble toward me. I instantly salivate when the essence of honey, peach, mango, and flowers invades my nostrils.

Meredith lifts her glass, cueing me to the toast she’s about to make. “Here’s to the end of an error––your misconception that Drake Langston was a knight in shining armor rather than what he really is—a turd in tinfoil.”

“I know that’s the truth.” I tap my glass against hers before taking the first sip of dry, fruity goodness. Damn, that’s good stuff.

“Capone made sure you got everything you wanted?”

Alec Capone is the most successful divorce attorney in Georgia. He should be with a name like that. “I got more than I wanted, including custody of Little Bastard, since Drake relinquished ownership of him. Caitlyn’s allergic.” I’m epically pissed off about him dumping his cat on me.

“Are you keeping the lil’ guy?”

“I haven’t decided.” Kermit, AKA Little Bastard, has no love for me. Doesn’t matter that I’ve been the one who has fed him his every bite, changed his litter box every time, taken him to the vet for every visit, even the time he was deathly ill from eating part of my foam flip-flop.

“You won’t have a problem if you decide to re-home him. He’s beautiful. Plenty of cat lovers would take him just because he’s a Bengal.”

Kermit was Drake’s trophy cat. Pretty to look at and that’s about it. Much like Caitlyn.

I have no emotional connection to Little Bastard. I’ve tried to bond but he’s resistant. That’s why I’m so surprised by the way I feel when I think of giving him away. He’s resistant to loving me. Just like Drake.

“I got my name back.” That’s what I wanted most. Bennett. My daddy’s name.

The wrinkle in Meredith’s brow serves as a warning. It’s always a prelude to something serious. “I understand those papers feel like a painful ending but that’s because they’re disguising what today is. A new beginning. Grayson and I think it’s important for you to treat this as a fresh start.”

Meredith disappears into the dining room and returns with a gift bag covered in curly ribbon and filled with tissue paper.

“Your divorce gift. Read the card first.”

I open the envelope and read the message aloud. “Congratulations on your divorce. We hated him.”

“No secret there.” I already knew Meredith and Grayson despised Drake.

I rip into the bag, tossing aqua and lime tissue paper in every direction. I’m worse than a child when it comes to tearing into gifts.

I take out each item and place it on the countertop. Sunscreen. Ray-Bans. The ridiculously expensive bikini I lusted for at that expensive boutique in Buckhead. And condoms.

“Sur…prise. Grayson and I are taking you to Jamaica with us next month.”

Umm … not just no. “Forget it. Not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening. We’ve already booked two suites and your airline ticket. First class.”

She’s out of her mind. I’m not going to that place. “Cancel one. Unless you and Grayson plan to use separate suites.”

“Can’t cancel. It’s Wicked Week at the resort so both rooms had to be paid for in full. Nonrefundable.”

This is her way of guilting me into doing what she wants. She thinks I’ll say yes if her money won’t be returned. “You’re so wrong for doing this to me.”

“You need a getaway and we knew you’d never agree otherwise. Don’t be mad.”

I’m not mad. I’m pissed. I’ve already made plans for the next three months. “I’m taking a second job while school’s out for summer. There’s no way an employer will give me vacation time four weeks after hiring me.”

“Maybe not, unless your bosses are Meredith and Grayson Faulkner. Come to work for us and we’ll guarantee you the time off. There won’t be a reason in the world you can’t go.”

Right. No reason in the world unless you consider the fact this all-expenses-paid vacation is for a getaway at a hedonism resort. A freaking no-holds-barred sex retreat.

I’m neither a hede nor a swinger.

Meredith Faulkner has been my best friend since ninth grade. We’ve been through thick and thin. There’s nothing she and I haven’t shared, apart from one huge exception.

Meredith and Grayson practice hedonism. They chase pleasure in any form it presents. They’re also part of a local community known to many as the lifestyle. They’re swingers. Wife Swappers.

Whatever floats their boat is fine by me. I don’t judge. But hedonism and swinging ain’t my thang. I’m not into casual sex. I prefer intimacy with a man I love, and always within the boundaries of a committed relationship.

Call me old-fashioned but I need more than a physical connection. A quick fuck with a person I’ve just met isn’t my cup of tea. Neither is having sex with someone else while my husband watches. Or the other way around.

“Don’t be worried about the money. Indulge is all-inclusive. You won’t be out a dime.”

I am cash-strapped but Meredith knows my resistance is unrelated to my financial status. “I don’t practice hedonism and I’m not a swinger. I have no business going to Indulge.”

“It’s Jamaica, mon! There are plenty of activities that have nothing to do with hedonism or swinging.” She picks up the top of the bikini she just gifted me and holds it up over my shirt. “Think of how great you’ll look on the beach in this.”

I’m not denying I need an escape from this hell I call reality but I don’t want it to be at Indulge, even if all expenses are paid. “Seeing you and Grayson with other people will be a problem for me.”

“Then we’ll ensure you don’t.”

“What kind of things would there be for me to do?”

“Let me grab my laptop and I’ll show you.”

The website for Indulge makes it appear to be a classy establishment. But looks can be deceiving. “This isn’t what I was expecting.”

“Hedonism resorts are like anything else. There are different levels. Go to a hundred dollar a night establishment and you’ll get what you pay for. Indulge is five stars all the way so it’s only the best accommodations and amenities for its guests.”

Meredith navigates to the page of offered activities. The list is huge. “You’ve always wanted to try snorkeling and scuba diving.”

“True.” I wanted an island honeymoon where Drake and I could do those things together. He took me to the mountains instead, the last place I wanted to go, because it was cheaper.

“I know you don’t think so but this is your kind of vacation, Anna James. The pools are luxurious. The beaches are white with the bluest water you’ve ever seen. You’re provided with all the alcohol and food you can hold. Calories don’t count there.”

“Well, that changes everything.”

“The service is magnificent. You can lie on the beach, in this new bikini, and have drinks brought to you by a handsome cabana boy. Who wouldn’t enjoy that?”

I imagine the serenity of being on a Jamaican beach. I envision the sun warming my skin. It lightly glistens with sweat but I’m not hot because the breeze cools me when it blows against my sun-kissed skin. The rush of the waves rolling in and out is steady. It’s my favorite sound in the world. A perfect recipe for relaxation.

My lovely imagery is interrupted by a notion—some old naked coot standing beside me where I’m sunbathing on a lounger. I look over to see who’s blocking the sun and his spunk spitter is staring me down. “I don’t want some dude’s frank ’n beans in my face.”

Meredith bursts into laughter. “Despite what you think, the men don’t go around shaking their balls like maracas.”

“I won’t be hounded?” That would piss me off. And completely ruin my good time.

“You’re a beautiful woman. I don’t think it’s possible for you to not be propositioned.”

I’ve spent my life being compared to a life-size version of Barbie. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, but petite. At five four, I don’t have those mile-long, lean legs like the doll.

I’ve never had a problem with men finding me attractive. Except my own husband. I must have aged out for him since he likes ’em young.

“There’s a policy in place and everyone adheres to it. All you have to say is ‘I appreciate your interest, but no thank you.’ They won’t bother you after that. Harassment isn’t allowed. Anyone who doesn’t abide by the rules is made to leave.”

“But what about the one refusing to take no for an answer?” It never fails. There will be one in the bunch.

“There’s always someone at Indulge who will say yes. They don’t waste their time on uninterested people.” Well, that makes sense.

I hear the garage door lifting. “Sounds like G’s home.”

Meredith beams. Three years of marriage and she still lights up like a candle for him. Yet she’ll have sex with another man. Their marriage is an enigma I don’t think I’ll ever understand.

“Grayson’s comfortable with me going to the resort with y’all?”

“It was his idea. He wants to do something nice for you. Let him.”

G’s a good friend. Loyal. Protective. So much so I thought he was going to kill Drake when he found out what he’d done to me. I adore him for that; it was nice to know I had someone in my corner.

Grayson enters from the garage and is nearly tackled by their golden retriever, desperate for his daily dose of petting from his master. “Hey, Howie. Were you a good boy today?”

“No, he damn sure wasn’t,” Meredith calls outs. “He snuck into the laundry room and stole my favorite panties from the laundry basket. He chewed a big-ass hole in the crotch.”

Grayson chuckles loudly before giving Howie one last scratch behind his ears.

“It’s not funny. It’s the third pair this week.”

My best friend’s husband comes to her and kisses the side of her face. It’s so loving. Normal. Someone looking in from the outside couldn’t possibly imagine the things they do behind closed doors. “Howie knows I like you in crotchless panties.”

Meredith gasps and slaps his arm. “Stop. Don’t say things like that in front of Anna James.”

Grayson grins in my direction. He’s so handsome. Dark hair graying at the temples. Bright blue eyes. I wouldn’t dare share him with another woman if I were Meredith. “My dear wife would totally say something like that in front of you.”

He’s almost right. “No. She would say much worse.”

Meredith winks at me. “I absolutely would but only because I can. I’m her best friend.”

Grayson gestures to the gift bag on the counter. “Is AJ still calling you a friend after opening our gift?”

I pick up the card. “I loved this. And the bikini.”

Grayson smirks. “What about our offer?”

I don’t know what to say. To decline feels like a shitty, ungrateful thing. To accept feels wrong. Wicked.

“Don’t think about what kind of resort it is or what goes on there. It’s the change of scenery and escape from life that you need. Think of it as a palate cleansing.”

All valid points.

A palate cleansing. I like that idea. A lot. “Okay. I’m in.”

Meredith squeals and darts to where I’m sitting. She throws her arms around me and squeezes tightly. “You’re going to have the time of your life. This is going to be a getaway you’ll never forget. I guarantee it.”

I’m certain it will be an experience I’ll never forget. Even when I try.

Now, to find someone to keep Little Bastard.

CHAPTER 1

ANNA JAMES BENNETT

It’s night one at Indulge and I’m hanging out in my room. Meredith and Grayson have gone out on the prowl. Not a problem. This suite is lavish. Spacious living room. Separate bedroom. Bathroom with an enormous double shower and soaker tub. It looks the part of a luxurious boutique hotel until you notice the mirrors. There are many and they’re mounted at all angles. I guess this resort wants you to be certain what’s getting slipped in where and by whom. The thought makes me shudder.

I’m starving. I had an early lunch but that was seven hours ago. That means my backbone is in danger of being eaten by my stomach. I need to get something in my belly soon so that doesn’t happen. I’ll need a strong spine for when I return to school in August.

Yesterday’s news included Drake’s refusal to leave his position as head football coach. That means I’ll have to work side by side with him every day since he didn’t have the decency to move on to another school.

Selfish twittlefuck.

I thumb through the resort binder to check out my dinner options. I was fairly set on staying in and ordering room service until I see the menu at a restaurant called Consume. “Hmm. Witty name.”

Meredith has given me the heads-up on resort policies so I’m already aware that clothing is required in all restaurants. Thank God. I don’t want to see anyone’s junk while I eat.

Ethnic food is my weakness so my craving for jerk chicken and a pineapple-coconut martini has convinced me I can’t stay holed up tonight.

Attire is smart casual so I change out of my traveling clothes into one of my favorite sundresses. If I were home, I’d put on an uncomfortable strapless bra beneath it. But here, I’m going braless, erect nipples and all. Makes me feel like a damn rebel. And I like it.

I’m hardly out of my hotel room when I run into a bare couple at the elevators. Both are attractive. Maybe mid thirties.

“Hello,” they say in unison.

“Hi.” I’m confused about where my eyes should be so I look down at my phone. It’s always a perfect diversion in an uncomfortable situation.

The elevator doors open and the three of us step inside. Awkward doesn’t begin to describe how it feels to be enclosed in a box with this pair wearing only their smiles. “Lobby?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I still don’t know where to look so I stare at the elevator floor. Without thinking, I step back and lean against the handrail. I consider all the naked asses that have probably been pressed in this same spot and jolt away. Gross. The germaphobe living inside me isn’t going to fare well these nine days.

I’m thrilled for more than one reason when I walk inside the restaurant. Number one: there’s food. Two: everyone is wearing clothes. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

Wow. I didn’t consider the possibility I’d need one. “I don’t. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Let me have a look.” The hostess studies her computer screen. I notice her nametag. Michaela. Same as my mom. Reminds me. I need to call her and Willa to let them know I arrived safely.

I cross my fingers hoping it’ll help Michaela find a table for me. “You’re looking at a minimum of two hours before I could seat you.”

Shiz. That means I won’t eat for almost three hours. “Good grief. Are the other restaurants packed like this?”

“Likely. It’s the dinner rush but also guest census is at its highest since Wicked Week is beginning soon. Things will be even more crowded next week. I highly recommend making reservations as soon as possible.”

“I don’t really know what I want to do.” Maybe there’s a snack bar or something. I’m not choosy at this point.

“Would you like me to check to see if there’s an opening with a single diner?”

In a normal world, I would assume she’s referring to a seat but I’m not so sure about this place. “I’m sorry. This is my first time at Indulge so can you expand on what you mean?”

“Some single diners may choose to offer available seating at their table to other lone guests. I can see if there’s an open seat that way.” I’m certain splitting a table during dinner doesn’t hold a candle to all the other things that get shared around here.

I don’t think I can wait two or three hours for food. “What is your opinion on the speed of room service?”

“It’s hard to say. I’m guessing at least ninety minutes.” Then I’m not much better off. And I went to the trouble of getting ready.

“I’ll give this single diner thing a try.” I’m not the least bit excited about sitting with a complete stranger. It’s weird.

“Let’s see what we can find for you.” Michaela studies the computer screen again. “You’re in luck. I have one single diner agreeing to share. Right this way.”

Quiet, sultry jazz tunes tantalize guests. The tables are dressed in white and crystal while little pops of red décor scatter the room. Elegant black and white damask wallpaper covers its walls. Enormous chandeliers provide soft light, and the glossy black marble tiles underfoot beautifully complete Consume’s décor. Mesmerizing.

White. Black. Red. If sin had a color palette, this would be it.

I stare at the sensual black and white art on the walls as I’m led to my table. I’m so engrossed by the nudie photos that I bump into a server carrying a full tray of food. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

This server looks so young. I’m certain he must be at least twenty-one to work in an establishment like this but I swear he doesn’t look a day over sixteen.

“No. Pardon me, Miss.” Ah. He has a lovely Jamaican accent.

“It was all my fault.”

The hostess gestures toward the empty seat. “Kevin is your server. He’ll be with you shortly. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Thank you.”

I settle into my seat and observe the man sitting across from me. One look and I’m able to form an opinion: He’s too damn handsome for his own good. Thick, dark brown hair. Hazel eyes surrounded by lush black lashes. Rosy cheeks. Full, pink lips.

His rakish smile completes the package. “You sound just like a Georgia peach.”

He’s hit the nail on the head. How unsettling. “I’m sorry?”

“Your accent. Can’t mistake it for anything else.” His voice is deep. Smooth. Southern just like me.

“You sound a little peachy yourself.”

His smile broadens, deepening the dimples in each of his cheeks. “Guilty as charged. Buckhead, born and bred.”

Buckhead. Born. Bred. The three Bs.

Buckhead is an affluent uptown district of Atlanta which tells me two things: this guy is probably wealthy. And by default, he’s likely a total jackass.

He tilts his head to the side and lifts his brows. “And you?”

“Buford.” I say the word and immediately regret it. I should have lied. He has no business knowing where I’m from.

“Been to Buford many times.”

Buckhead and Buford are close, only about forty minutes apart. I’m not sure how I feel about meeting someone who lives so close.

I need to chill. He’s likely feeling a little uneasy about me as well.

“I occasionally shop in Buckhead. My best friend and I love their boutiques.” It’s rare that I’m able to afford anything so I mostly look when I go with Meredith.

He holds out his hand over the table. “I’m Beau Emerson.”

I consider lying about who I am. This guy’s well within stalker distance but I wasn’t blessed with thinking fast on my feet. “Anna James Bennett.”

My double name is confusing for people since James can be both a man’s name and a last name. “My friends and family call me Anna James. Or AJ.”

“Very nice to meet you. I’m pleased to share a table with such a lovely woman.”

Is that a move? I’m not certain but it’s probably best to nip this in the bud now. Beau Emerson doesn’t need to be under the impression this is anything but two people sharing a table because of a crowding issue. “I appreciate your interest, but no thank you.”

He leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over what I’m guessing is a well-built chest beneath his white linen shirt. He studies my face for a moment before a lopsided grin appears. “Miss Bennett. That wasn’t even close to being a proposition.”

Heat pulses in my face. I would love to crawl beneath this table. “I’m sorry.” I can barely breath the words through my embarrassment.

I feel obligated to explain. “I’m not familiar with the typical practices here; I’ve never been to a place like this.”

“Clearly.” Both of his dimples are back on display now; I’m amusing him. I’m not sure if I should be angry or embarrassed.

Humiliation wins.

I’m normally confident in all I do but I’m out of my element. This is his world and I’m an outsider. “You find my ignorance entertaining.”

“You’re wrong. I find your inexperience intriguing.”

“What part of that could you possibly find intriguing?”

“You’re new to hedonism.”

Oh. I get it now. He sees me as a newcomer. Fresh meat. A shiny new toy. “You’ve got this all wrong. I’m not here to participate. This is a free Jamaican vacation for me. A treat from my best friends.”

“Your friends brought you to a place where crazy stuff happens. And by that, I mean lewd sexual acts.”

“Meredith and Grayson warned me.”

“Are your friends trying to recruit you into a polyamory relationship with them?”

Polyamory is the hard-core stuff. Meredith says she and Grayson will never go there. Too much commitment for them. “Oh, God no! Meredith has been my best friend for nine years. She and her husband just wanted to do something nice for me.”

“Right.” He’s wearing a different kind of smile now, the skeptical kind.

“I know what you’re thinking but they’re really not.”

“If you say so.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to convince him. “I had a shitastrophe in my life. This trip is their divorce gift to me. They thought the sun and sand would do me some good.”

“Has it?”

“I don’t know. We only arrived a few hours ago.”

“Then welcome to Indulge, where your fantasies meet reality.”

“Thank you.” I think.

Our conversation is briefly interrupted when our server appears. Good thing I already know what I want because I’ve not even looked at the menu.

After placing my order, I resume my study of the nude photography on the walls. They’re actually tasteful and elegant.

“Like what you see?”

Oddly, I do. “I’ve never seen anything like them. They’re lovely.”

“Third one on the left. That’s me.”

I search the walls and find the one he’s referring to. Holy shizzle. That erection is enormous.

I swallow. “It’s very nice.” Shit. That was a dumb thing to say. “The picture, I mean. It’s artful.”

He bursts into laughter. “I’m kidding. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

The heat has returned to my cheeks. “Well, aren’t you the comedian?”

“I’m a good-time guy who enjoys a laugh. And that was a fine one.”

“At my expense.” I think he enjoys laughing at me.

“Sorry. Not sorry.”

“Right.”

Kevin returns with our drinks, a pineapple-coconut martini for me and a draft beer for Beau.

I sample my cocktail. It doesn’t disappoint. “Are you a frequenter?”

“I don’t know what makes one a frequenter but I typically come four times a year.”

“That qualifies you as a patron in my book. Is this your quarterly visit or a special trip for Wicked Week?”

“I, too, had a shitastrophe in my life. I thought the sun and sand would do me some good.”

He’s using my words. “Divorce?”

“No.” That’s all he says. No explanation. I’m curious to know what he means but not rude enough to ask him to expand if he doesn’t volunteer the information.

I decide to steer the conversation in a safer route. “What do you do for a living?”

“Real estate agent but I also flip houses with my brothers.” I’m guessing Beau has a lucrative business. He’d have to if he comes here four times a year. This place isn’t cheap.

“What about you?”

“High school teacher. English and creative writing.”

“So you’re out for summer.”

“Yup. Can’t lie. Summer break is a huge perk for being a teacher.” It’s one of the things that drove me to choose that profession. That and my love of words.

Words are powerful. They can evoke countless reactions. Joy. Pain. Arousal. Make a heart skip a beat. Or shatter it into a million pieces.

Dinner arrives quickly considering the crowd. Our conversation never slows despite the fact we’re stuffing our faces. “You mentioned divorce. Is it safe to assume that a split from your husband is the shitastrophe you were referring to earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“How long were you married?” He’s asking more questions than I’m comfortable answering.

“Our divorce was final a week after our first anniversary.”

“Irreconcilable differences?”

Yeah. All that and a bag of chips. “I guess you could call it that since I was unable to accept him screwing one of our former students. And he had a bad case of douchebaggery.”

“That’s fucking low. And illegal. I hope the prick is being prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” I’m a little surprised by his annoyance. It can’t possibly be out of concern for me but I can’t ignore the slight ping of joy to hear someone else’s disgust.

“Technically, his relationship with Caitlyn isn’t illegal since she’s nineteen. They both claim their relationship started after she was of age and graduated so there’s nothing to pursue from a criminal aspect.”

“And you believe that?”

“Absolutely not.” I’m no fool.

“You seem like a great girl so your ex must be a dumb bastard. I don’t have to spend more than a few minutes with you to come to that conclusion.” He’s quick to defend my honor. Sort of reminds me of Grayson.

Everything about Beau seems normal. I could almost forget where we are and that his tastes are likely something I’m not accustomed to.

“Are you married?” He’s dining alone but that means nothing in a place like this.

“Almost. I was engaged until a month ago.” I’d like to know what happened but I don’t want to pry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Best thing that could have happened to me was not marrying her.” I recognize bitterness when I hear it.

My curiosity is piqued. “The almost Mrs. Emerson must have done something really bad.”

Beau goes completely still and closes his eyes. “Unforgivable.”

There’s only one thing worse than losing one person you love to cheating; it’s losing two people you love. “She cheated with a friend? Or relative?” Oh, God. I hope it wasn’t one of his brothers.

“Cheating would have been much less painful.” I can’t imagine what he means. There’s very little that could hurt worse than being scorned by the one you consider your soul mate.

“My bad. I just assumed.”

I give him a moment to expand on what he meant but he says nothing. Guess he’s not in the mood to talk about it so I take our chat in a new direction. I’m interested to hear someone’s opinion besides Meredith’s.

“My friend swears that swinging makes her marriage less complicated. She’s a full-on advocate.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been married nor am I a swinger.”

Well, he isn’t a four-times-a-year attendee for nothing. He’s some kind of sexual deviant. “My mistake. I assumed you were because you’re at a hedonism resort.”

“Not everyone here comes to do that.”

I point to myself. “I can testify to that.”

Our server comes by to clear our plates. “May I interest you in some coffee or dessert? Perhaps another cocktail or beer?”

I’m feeling my four martinis. A fifth probably isn’t a good idea. “Heat and hangovers don’t mix, so nothing for me, thank you.”

Beau flicks his hand. “Nothing for me either.”

This is the part where we go separate ways. “We should probably get up and give our table to two of those hungry people out there waiting to be seated.”

“Right.”

We exit the building and stop on the sidewalk to say goodbye. “It was a pleasure dining with you, Anna James.”

Beau Emerson is handsome. Kind. Intellectually stimulating. The way he spoke to me made me feel the way a woman should. More like the old me. Not the one still licking her wounds because she was dumped for a toddler, but the woman I was before Drake. Confident.

“Thank you for offering your extra seat to a stranger. I’d still be waiting for a table if you hadn’t.” In some ways, even though I am thanking him for his seat, he has actually given me more.

“I hope your stay is a pleasant one.”

“And yours as well.”

“Goodnight,” we say in unison.

I want him to say something more, such as “take a walk with me” or “can I see you tomorrow?” But he doesn’t. I’m tempted to turn back for a glance as I walk away. But I don’t; he’s a hede. Spending time with a vanilla girl like me isn’t deemed worthy of a blip on his radar. And spending time with a hede as handsome as him is not on mine either.

CHAPTER 2

ANNA JAMES BENNETT

It’s growing dark. The ocean has already swallowed the sun. Beau and I talked much longer than I thought.

I’m not ready to return to my room to sit alone so I decide to explore the resort despite the warning Meredith gave me about the risqué things happening at Indulge after the sun goes down.

This is a huge resort so it isn’t a bad idea to scope it out. Identifying the places I can and shouldn’t go is essential.

The first sign I stumble upon directs me straight ahead for the beach area. Perfect. I would love to feel the sand under my feet.

I reach the beach’s edge and bend down to remove my shoes.

“Taking a walk on the beach?” It’s that deep, smooth, southern voice again. Beau.

Tingles dance across my skin. I nibble my bottom lip to suppress the delight I feel. “Yeah. I’m too anxious to wait until tomorrow.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“I’d like that.”

Beau holds up a finger. “Give me a few minutes.”

He disappears and returns a few minutes later holding a drink in each hand. He holds out a cocktail for me. “Pineapple-coconut martini.”

“How did you pull this off?”

“Magic.”

I look around and spot a freestanding bar. “The only magical thing about this will be if I don’t have a huge hangover tomorrow.” I sip the fruity concoction. Yummy. “I believe you, Mr. Beau Emerson, are a bad influence.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“I bet not.”

“In case you’re unaware, there are two beaches. Planning to go nude or prude tomorrow?”

Those are my only options? “Choosing to cover my T&A doesn’t make me a prude.”

“Maybe not anywhere else in the world but it’s different here. Covering your tits and ass means you’re uptight.”

I haven’t been a goody-goody a day in my life but it seems I could be labeled a saint by these standards. “I won’t be getting naked so show me the way to the prude side.”

“You got it.” Beau leads me down a path lined with glowing torches and trees. The overhead foliage is so heavy I can no longer see the sky or stars. It’s an odd sensation, like walking through a tropical labyrinth.

We come to the end of the maze where the path meets the beach. With shoes in one hand, and my martini in the other, I step into the sand. Beau stands with a hand in his pocket, unmoving. “Now who’s the prude? Roll your pants up and come with me.”

I advance toward the water, leaving him behind. I rake my toes through the sand. I close my eyes and listen to the rush of water. Its pattern is predictable. Anticipated. I like that.

Peace. Tranquility. Deliverance. This is what brought me to this place.

“I love the feel of sand at night. The sun has gone down and it’s had time to cool. The deeper you dig your toes in, the cooler it gets.”

He plunges his toes in. “I’ve never given that any thought but you’re right.”

“Shh. Be still and listen for a moment.”

Beau stands beside me, shoes off, pant legs rolled to mid calves. Silent.

“I love this sound. I have a noise maker set to ocean waves but the real thing is so much better.”

“Then we should listen for a while.” He lowers himself to sit in the sand.

I plop down to join him. Nothing graceful about it. The martinis have made my joints loose and turned my bones to gelatin. “We lived on the Mississippi coast until I was fifteen. Our house was across the street from the beach. I could look out my bedroom window and see the ocean until it dropped out of sight. My dad was still living then. My happiest memories are from when we lived there. Maybe that’s why I find the sound of the water so soothing. It feels like home.”

“I thought your Georgia peach accent was a little on the thick side. That explains it. You’re a transplant.”

“I’ve lived in Georgia for nine years but my Mississippi twang still pokes its head out to make its presence known. I’ll never shake it. Trust me. I’ve tried.”

“I like it.”

“Drake didn’t. He said it made me sound like a hick.”

“Your ex sounds like a real ass.”

“He is, but all the shit he did provided me a vacation in Jamaica. I can’t regret that part.” At least not yet.

“This is the right place to help you forget your troubles.”

I want to know what brought Beau here. “This conversation is one-sided. You never told me what it is you’re trying to forget.”

He doesn’t take the lead to talk so I backpedal. “We can talk about it … or we can get up and run into the ocean.”

“I vote for skinny-dipping.”

“I said run into the ocean. There was no mention of getting naked.” Just like a man to assume that.

“Go in your dress if you don’t want to take it off.”

I stand and use my contortion skills to lower my zipper down my back. “I love this dress. It would be a shame to ruin it.”

He watches me struggle. “Want me to get that for you?”

Letting a stranger unzip me doesn’t feel right. “Nah, I’m good. I got it up by myself. I can get it down.”

My brain is screaming that skinny-dipping with a stranger is a terrible idea but the liquor I’ve consumed convinces me it’s brilliant plan.

Beau removes his button-down and pulls his undershirt over his head. He tosses both and reaches for the button of his gray trousers. He pushes them until they’re crumbled with his boxer briefs at his feet.

What I’m about to do suddenly becomes a little more surreal. I’m questioning my actions. I hold the front of my dress, thinking it over. It’s not too late to turn back.

“You’re not changing your mind?”

“I’ve skinny-dipped plenty of times but never with a stranger.”

“This was your idea. Not mine.” He’s standing completely bare, illuminated only by a sliver of the moon.

“I know.”

“Listen, Peach. I don’t have to get a girl like you liquored up and naked to score some ass.” He waves his hand toward the resort. “There are plenty of women up there who’d be more than happy to give me whatever I want so let’s just forget this.”

Beau reaches for his clothes and I realize him leaving is the last thing I want. “No. Don’t go.”

I let go of my dress. The top catches on my hips so I push it down until it drops on top of my feet. Since I went braless, I’m standing before him wearing only my panties. “You didn’t even have to buy me dinner to get me naked.”

“You’re not naked yet.” He turns his back on me and goes toward the water. I’m grateful. I didn’t want to wiggle out of my panties while he pretended to not ogle.

I bolt into the water. The temperature has dropped with the night, but I drudge through so I’ll have its coverage. “This is a helluva lot colder than I expected.”

“The sand isn’t the only thing to cool after the sun goes down.”

I go out far enough to submerge my breasts. The girls pull the buoyancy card and float so I go in a little deeper.

“You have great tits. It’s a damn shame you don’t plan to observe the clothing optional choice.”

Is he kidding me? “I’d call this clothing optional. I’m pretty sure I can’t get more naked.”

Beau cackles. “You have the coverage of night and water. Not the same thing.”

“You seem to have no problem checking them out by moonlight.”

“That’s because I have excellent night vision.”

“So do predatory animals.”

“You consider me a predator?”

“I don’t know what I consider you right now.”

He goes under the water, disappearing for longer than I’m comfortable with. “Come on, dude. Not funny.”

I spin around to see if he’s hiding behind me. “Beau.”

No answer. This is so not funny.

“Beau,” I call out louder.

I see nothing. Hear nothing. My heart takes off in a sprint. “Beau,” I scream.

He bobs up directly in front of me, after what feels like an eternity, and grabs my waist. “Miss me?”

I push at his shoulders, making him stumble backward. “Asshole.”

He gains his footing and reaches for my midsection. “I’m sorry, Peach. Don’t go.”

My back is to him but he holds my hips firmly. I imagine what it would be like if he took one step closer, maybe two, and our bodies touched.

Damn. It would feel so good to be touched again. It’s been so long.

This is crazy. Completely irresponsible. I’m showing no better judgment than the kids I teach.

“Why should I stay?”

“Because I like you. And I enjoy talking to you.”

“I think you like listening more than you like talking.”

Silence.

He doesn’t get to inquire about my personal life and spill nothing in return. “I think I should turn in for the evening. It was really nice to meet you.”

He releases his hold on me. I spin around to leave but stop when he calls out, “Her name is Erin.”

He has my attention. “And?”

“We were together for three years. Engaged for one. We were part of two separate polyamorous relationships over the last year and a half. Both went sour but the last one was the final nail in the coffin.”

Holy shit. He’s into poly relationships. I’m not sure about the ins and outs of what they do but I know it’s the big time. It’s even too much for Meredith and Grayson. “Two women at once. I hear that’s every guy’s fantasy.”

“The sex part is a fantasy come true. Won’t lie. Being with two women was a sex fantasy realized. The relationship aspect, a total nightmare.”

I’m curious about this lifestyle. “How so?”

“What should have been a sexual partner in our bed quickly turned into a second woman in my life. She became a part of everything in and out of the bedroom.”

A triad relationship. I can’t begin to imagine how that works. Or maybe it doesn’t. He said it went bad.

“When I love, it’s wholeheartedly and I demand the same in return. I have to be everything or nothing at all. I could never share. I’d be consumed with jealousy and tied in knots all the time.” I know firsthand from my experience with Drake’s infidelity.

“Erin was my primary and could be territorial when it suited her. Jealousy was an issue.”

I’m calling bullshit. “She couldn’t have been too territorial if she allowed you to bring another woman into your bed.”

“It wasn’t me. Erin’s the one who introduced Jenna into our lives.”

“Mind. Blown.” What kind of woman would do that? Maybe a bisexual one.

“It was great at first but then Erin’s job became more demanding. It consumed the majority of her time. Being alone with Jenna so often brought us closer.”

“Meaning more sex between you and Jenna without Erin.”

“Right. Erin despised us sharing something special that didn’t include her.” Sounds like she considered herself the hierarchy on the sex pyramid.

This is a no-brainer. “I can see where that would go over like a turd in a punchbowl.”

“You say some of the damnedest things.” Beau’s words are nearly drowned by his chuckles and I’m reminded of how it feels to make a man laugh. No sneer. No smirk or cruel smile. Just a simple expression of amusement.

I spend the majority of my time with teenagers. After a while, a bit of their adolescent behavior tends to rub off. “I’m sorry. I sidetracked you. You were telling me about Jenna.”

“Right. Jenna was thinking long-term. She started talking about getting married and having children so Erin forced her out of the relationship.”

That doesn’t explain the terrible thing Erin did. “But that wasn’t the end of it?”

“I thought it was. I expected to get married and put our poly life on the back burner for a while.”

I can see where this train wreck is going. “She brought another woman into your bed.”

“You’re half-right. It was a man the next time. Heath.”

If he didn’t already have my full attention, he’d damn sure has it now. “Dude-on-dude action. The plot thickens.”

“I don’t do dick. It’s pussy only for me.” Good grief. That mouth.

I don’t know jack shit about this multiple partner stuff but I understand a scorned woman’s mind and how it works. “Heath was your punishment for growing close to Jenna.”

“That’s the understatement of the century. She sure gave me a taste of my own medicine.”

“I’m not sure that’s a fair statement since she’s the one who did the soliciting. But one thing’s for certain. Invite trouble inside and it will enter every time.”

“It gets so much worse.”

“You watched your fiancée have sex with another man. I can’t imagine it getting more unpleasant than that.”

“Erin was pregnant. It was mine. We know because the timing made it impossible for the baby to be Heath’s.”

I was wrong. It can get so much worse.

“I came home from work one day last month and Heath had taken her to the abortion clinic. The procedure was done before I knew about it. The kid was mine and I didn’t get a say if it lived or not.”

He’s hurting and I don’t know how to respond. Something inside me wants to comfort him but to say “I’m sorry” feels so insignificant. So empty.

This man isn’t wounded over a woman. He’s grieving a loss sex won’t cure. “Are you sure you should be here?”

“I came to fuck ninety-nine different ways. This is definitely the place I need to be.”

He can’t fuck away this kind of pain. “How many of those ninety-nine ways have you gotten under your belt so far?”

“None yet. I just got here.”

That seems like an excessive amount of sex during a getaway. “How many days are you staying?”

“Nine.” Same as us.

“I’m no mathematician but you’re here nine days, counting today. That means you have to fuck eleven different ways per day if you’re going to squeeze in ninety-nine. You better get to crackin’, sir.”

“There’s no hurry. There’ll be plenty of opportunities after midnight. That’s when things heat up.” I’ll definitely be safely tucked in my bed long before then.

I’m guessing I’ll be sick of this place by the end of nine days. It all seems so extreme. “Do you typically stay so long?”

“No. I’ve always done long weekends because of work.”

I recall the variety of people I’ve seen since my arrival. “Do you have standards for the people you have sex with or is a vagina the only requirement?”

He chuckles. “Of course I have standards. Don’t you?”

“Absolutely. High ones.”

“What does a girl like you look for?”

He’s lumped me into some kind of category. “A girl like me? What does that mean?”

“A vanilla girl.”

I am vanilla but I’ve not yet decided if I’m going to be pissed off about having that label placed on me. “Call me old-fashioned but I don’t long to be double penetrated.”

“You might like it if you tried it.”

I hate being judged. “You assume I haven’t.”

“You assume I have.” He totally has me there.

“You’re the one who was in a sexual triad involving two guys and a girl. Two dicks. One vagina. Three assholes. I already know you aren’t into dudes so my assumption was made by process of elimination.”

He laughs. “You sort of have a dirty mouth.”

“Not dirty. Innocent-challenged.” He hasn’t heard shit out of me yet. “I’m curious to know what you thought of it.”

“It feels great.”

I hear a silent but in there somewhere. “But you hated her being with another man?”

“Of course. She was going to be my wife. I loved her. Every time Heath came into our bed, it was a reminder I was never going to be enough to satisfy her.”

Does the poly want out?

“Be happy you figured it out before you married her instead of after.”

“My affection for her slipped a little further away every time I saw them together. The love I had for her eventually drifted beyond my grasp. I tried but couldn’t get it back. She became nothing more than a body to me, an object I used for getting off.” I can believe that.

“Will your next relationship be polyamorous?”

“I have no idea. I only know I came here to fuck the two of them off my mind. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

Sex isn’t a fix for what’s going on in his head. And heart. But he has to figure that out for himself.

“I don’t want to talk about those fuckers anymore. I rather hear about your vanilla girl high standards.”

“I want true and beautiful.” I bet he thinks that’s unrealistic.

“Total myth. Doesn’t exist in today’s world.” Pessimist. He’s probably a glass half-empty kind of guy.

“It does. I saw it between my mother and father. The fairy tale is real and I won’t settle for less.”

“This is a different generation. But I wish you the best of luck with that.”

“Tell me your standards since you have so little faith in love.”

“I could tell you but it would be so much easier to show you.”

My stomach flips; I don’t know what that means. “A verbal description would suffice.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun. You can help me choose my first of ninety-nine fucks.”

Oh. That’s not what I thought he meant. It’s a total wakeup call for what Beau likes. “I don’t think so. It was lovely meeting you but I think it’s time for me to go in for the evening.”

“Don’t go, Peach. It’s still early.” All the more reason for me to get back to my suite before things heat up around this place.

I leave the water and go to my dress and panties on the beach. I shake my dress before pulling it over my head.

He comes out of the water and is by my side stepping into his trousers. “Did I say something to upset you?”

“Nah. It’s all good.” I’ve enjoyed my non-hede time with Beau but he’s ready to go on the hunt. It’s time for this to end.

Despite attempting to decline, Beau insists on walking me back to my room. Claims he wants to ensure I make it there safely. That may or may not be the truth but it doesn’t matter.

He’s hede.

Hell, he’s poly.

I’m not.

No way we’re happening.

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ABOUTH THE AUTHOR

Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.

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OTHER BOOKS BY GEORGIA CATES

THE LOVIBOND COLLECTION

Tap: A Lovibond Novel 1

Stout: A Lovibond Novel 2

Porter: A Lovibond Novel 3 (TBA)

The Lovibond Collection: Tap, Stout

STANDALONE

Indulge

THE SIN SERIES

A Necessary Sin: Book I

The Next Sin: Book II

One Last Sin: Book III

The Sin Trilogy Bundle

Endurance: A Sin Series Novel

Jamie and Ellison’s Story

Redemption: A Sin Series Novel

Leith and Lorna’s Story

Unintended: A Sin Series Novel

Westlyn and Kieran’s Story

THE BEAUTY SERIES

Beauty from Pain: Book I

Beauty from Surrender: Book II

Beauty from Love: Book III

The Beauty Series Bundle

THE VAMPIRE AGAPE SERIES

Blood of Anteros: Book I

Blood Jewel: Book II

Blood Doll: Book III

The Complete Vampire Agape Series

GOING UNDER SERIES

Going Under: Book I

Shallow: Book II

Going Under Complete Duo

Table of Contents

Also by Georgia Cates

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Excerpt: Indulge

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Abouth the Author

Other Books by Georgia Cates