She picked up the fork, needing something to do with her hands, and speared a sliver of lobster. “What were your reasons?”
His shoulders, usually so straight, so strong—like they could carry mountains—sagged for a moment.
“In the back part of my mind, I couldn’t dismiss the idea that maybe you’d turned me down because you wanted to. That you were using the political climate and your father as an excuse. Or it had opened your eyes somehow.”
Oh, she couldn’t bear this. Not this. She lowered the fork and extended her hand to him.
He glanced at it for a moment, and in that split second, her heart quaked—was he refusing her gesture?—but then his hand engulfed hers and held it. She felt the burn of the contact and the pain of remembrance. “It wasn’t an excuse. I loved you. If things hadn’t happened as they did, when they did, I would have married you and been happy. I’ve never doubted that.” Back then, those details had been crystal clear. They would finish school, marry, and work for their family companies remotely in London or another city they liked. Have a few children. Spend part of the summer in Beirut, if it was safe to do so, and Paris, like she had done on summers off from boarding school.
A sigh gushed out of him, and he squeezed her hand tightly. “Thank you for telling me that. It clears up a whole bunch of junk that’s been rattling around in my head.”
His heart too, she imagined, and it was all she could do to keep herself from crossing to him and wrapping him up in her arms. She’d never imagined he’d doubted her love for him, and that was another regret for her list. She would have to make amends for it, and she knew just how to do it.
“Alice and I will come for brunch, and we’ll stay with you and your additional chaperones.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it sweetly before releasing it. “Thank you. Trust me. This is going to work.”
They were embarking on one of the most painful processes any business could undergo, but his attention was squarely on her. On them. What if their private affairs interfered with business? The way he’d shown up here with her favorite breakfast suggested it was a valid concern.
As she watched him begin to eat heartily, she turned to her own meal. Whatever his reasons, she would give him some leeway. Their relationship was messy, after all.
Besides, the very thought of being at his house was intoxicating. She’d often wondered how he lived. Now she would see for herself. Although they’d spent more time together than alone in London, they’d never lived together. This would be their chance. She hoped it would help her form that picture she needed—a vision of their future together.
With four chaperones in attendance, her virtue would be more than safe.
But it wasn’t her virtue that worried her. It was her heart.
Chapter 6
His mother was driving him nuts.
But she was doing it to distract him from his nerves about introducing Francesca to his family, so instead of snapping off a prickly response, he crossed the kitchen to kiss her cheek. “Mom, I love you, but if you tell me another story about choosing wedding cake flavors with Michaela and Boyd, I may have to poke my ears out.”
She patted his cheek with her wet hand and resumed washing strawberries, a blue and white checkered apron over her green dress. “Quinn, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to blow a gasket. Since taking over as CEO, you remind me more of your father every day.”
“And they’re not good memories,” his father added from his prep station in a red apron covering his suit. “Are they, dear?”
“No. Quinn, will you please cut those cucumbers for me?”
There were so many cucumbers, they looked like freshly cut logs next to a tree stump. The prep would take him forever. “Mom, I told you I could hire someone to cook today.”
“In my kitchen?” She flicked her hand at him playfully, water droplets raining on the lapel of his Italian suit. “Quinn Anthony Merriam, when did I ever willingly cede cooking to someone?”
His father coughed discreetly from where he was cutting avocados.
“Shawn Merriam, are you laughing at me?” She cocked a brow.
His usually serious mouth was twitching. “I know better than that, Assumpta, especially when you have a knife close by.”
She laughed, her shoulder-length gray hair dancing. “Chop, men.”
There was no denying a direct order from Assumpta Merriam, so Quinn took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and chopped, just like his father minus the apron. His mother shuttled back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room. One minute she was arranging fresh flowers in pink and white, the next she was back in the kitchen, inspecting their work with the eye of a general.
When she was out of the room, Quinn glanced at his father. “She’s on a tear.” But his mind kept snagging on his mother’s remark. He needed to make some changes in his life. Connor had warned him that if he wasn’t careful he’d blink and be alone and sixty.
“Of course she is, son,” his father said. “We both are. It’s not every day you learn your son had a soulmate you knew nothing about.”
“I knew he had a woman in his life back then, Shawn,” his mother said, popping her head in the doorway. “And I’m sure I mentioned it.”
Of course, she’d known. She knew all of them inside and out. “Mom, why didn’t you say anything?”
“It wasn’t my place to butt in. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. That time didn’t come until fifteen years later. So we’re fixing that now.”
Her eyes tracked to his father’s, and they shared one of their knowing looks.
“Yes, we sure as hell are,” his dad said. “We only know her by reputation, of course, but everyone thinks highly of Francesca Maroun. Her father, as well.”
“We’re excited to welcome her,” his mother added. “For you as well as for the help she’s giving the company. But don’t worry. We’ll be discreet. No personal comments. Also, just because you don’t say the words doesn’t mean I can’t hear you, Quinn.”
He almost gulped. Her mom radar had always been strong. “Understood. Thank you for cooking. Really, Mom. I didn’t want you to go to all this effort.”
“I’m not,” she said, smiling broadly. “I have you and your father. Now, quit talking and chop. I have more for you to do.” But she promptly left the room on some sort of mission.
His father slid him another cucumber with a rare mischievous smile. “Between the two of us, I’d agree your mother’s on a tear. She’s excited to meet your soulmate. You know how us Merriams feel about soulmates.”
“I heard that, Shawn Merriam. You’re supposed to be chopping.”
“I can talk and chop, Assumpta,” he said, shaking his silver head. “I’m glad I can say I contributed. I want Francesca to know we cooked a family meal for her. I imagine she grew up with help.”
“Yeah, more than she liked having around, she used to say.” He stopped chopping and faced his father. “Dad, I wanted you to know why I asked J.T. to step in and not you.”
“He already knows why, Quinn!” his mother called from the other room.