Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Darcy was leaving for Paris at midnight, and, for the thousandth time, Caroline questioned her sanity. Come what may, she was prepared and would gracefully accept the outcome. He’d either come home to her with the Seurat or not—and that’s the way it had to play out. Either way, she had to be happy.
Exiting Bergdorf with several new feel-good purchases—because shopping was the best therapy—she thought of his loyal friendship and generosity. He was her best friend. Of course, she wanted his happiness above all things, even if it cost her a long, prosperous future as a Darcy.
“Oof! I’m so sorry,” she said, banging into a passerby when exiting the department store.
“Hey, no problem,” the guy said, bending to pick up her bags. “It was totally my fault.”
“Rick?”
“Caroline!”
“What a small world,” she said.
Darcy’s handsome cousin she’d nicknamed “Dimples” over dinner with Darcy a few nights ago, grinned. “Yeah. It is a small world. Wow. I was just thinking about you.”
“You were thinking about me? Why?” she asked.
“Because I had a good time with you and Darcy at dinner.” He searched her surprised expression. “Say, do you think he’d mind if I took you to lunch? Are you free?”
“Um ... yeah. That’ll be super. I don’t think he’d mind if I don’t.”
“Cool.” He hailed a cab. “How about Thai food?”
“Perfect! I’m crazy for Thai food!”
“Great!” Addressing the driver he said, “Thai Villa, five East Nineteenth Street,” then looked at her, “They have the best Shrang Wa Goong.”
“You know, I knew I liked you from the start!” She beamed.
The yellow cab eased out into the Fifth Avenue traffic, and he fidgeted with the ring on his right hand, then shyly looked over at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing is wrong.”
They awkwardly sat next to each other, shoulders touching as the driver swore at a passing SUV, then abruptly stopped at a red light.
“Will you guys be attending my Aunt Catherine’s birthday party on Saturday night?” Rick asked.
“I don’t think so. Darcy’s leaving for Paris tonight.”
“Oh, bummer. I was hoping for the company. My aunt can be a bit much to handle without backup.”
“I’m sorry. William didn’t say anything about the party,” she said, the awkwardness for conversation creeping back in. “I suspect he’ll be gone for about five days.”
“You don’t know how long he’ll be away?”
“Not really ... It’s ... a fluid situation.”
“Well, that’s intriguing. I’m assuming it’s for business.”
“No. Pleasure. It’s complicated,” she brushed off.
“How so?”
“He’s attending a Sotheby’s auction ... for a painting for me.”
“Aaand, you didn’t want to go to Paris?”
“What girl wouldn’t? But ... sometimes you have to do the right thing, even if it means sacrificing the very thing you always thought would bring you absolute happiness,” she bemoaned.
“Ah, the old ‘choose the harder right, instead of the easier wrong’ thing.”
“Huh? That doesn’t sound like something I usually ascribe to.”
“You’re saying that not going to Paris—every woman’s dream—with your billionaire fiancé is for a greater purpose, which could possibly make you unhappy?”
“He’s meeting up with our art broker ... his ex-girlfriend.”
Shocked, he examined her face. “Aaand, again, you’re okay with that?”
“I arranged it.” She gazed out the window at the passing shops along Fifth Avenue.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” he said shaking his head.
Thankfully, he ended the direction of questions.
For the rest of the drive, they remained pensively silent, each in their thoughts, but always glancing at the other with a reassuring smile.
“Okay, so I just have to ask—what the hell is Darcy thinking, leaving his beautiful, talented fiancée here in New York to go off with his ex-girlfriend six weeks before your wedding?” he asked, before chomping on a curry short rib.
“It’s not like that. Darcy’s too noble to cheat on me.”
“Seriously, you don’t care about this girl?”
“Of course I do. Like I said earlier ... it’s complicated.”
“Then I’ll just say it. You’re marrying my cousin for his money, aren’t you?”
Stunned, she glanced up from her noodles at his raw, honest expression. Not one of censure, but more just making a point.
“Um, I agreed to a friendly lunch, not a character assassination.”
“Forgive me, but I’ve never been one to beat around the bush. I should have at least waited until dessert. I don’t want to see Darcy—or you—hurt. It’s the protector in me.”
“Rest assured, I have no desire to hurt him. Apart from my brother, he’s the best man I know.”
“Now I’m really confused. Honestly, I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re okay with him in Paris—the City of Love―with his ex, I can only assume you don’t love him. I have yet to meet a woman who isn’t insanely jealous of ex-girlfriends.”
She smiled, appreciating his concern and, frankly, wasn’t as affronted as she should be. “I do love Darcy—in a way. I used to love him differently, but since our engagement ... things have changed.”
“Does he love you?”
“Well, I guess we’ll both find out next week when he returns home.”
“That’s cutting it a little too close to the wedding to be so unsure.”
She shrugged. “The invitations haven’t gone out yet.” She put her fork down, then rested back in her chair. What could it hurt to tell him the truth? She took a sip of her mai tai, then said, “Can I trust you with something?”
“Sure, lay it on me. I got a pretty high national security clearance.”
“Please don’t tell anyone, but ... Darcy and I have a marriage contract.”
He laughed. “Pardon my language, but what the fuck? A contract? Who does that?”
She laughed. “It’s true!”
“But why?”
“Because I have loved him forever, and I’m tired of dating losers to get to the one I’m supposed to be with. He said he’d take care of me so long as it remained platonic, and I upheld my end of the contract. So, I signed it. Darcy is safe, and, most of the time, it feels like the right decision.”
“You mean you have loved his money forever and that he’d keep you in the comfort you desire?”
She felt the burn on her cheeks when admitting, “That certainly helped.”
“But why the ex-girlfriend? Now?”
“Because he still loves her. She’s his forever person, not me, and I want him to be super happy, not tied down with someone he doesn’t love or even want to knock boots with.
” She cupped her boobs. “I mean, what was the point of spending a fortune on these? I’m a healthy woman with a healthy sex drive, and my fiancé doesn’t want to touch them! ”
Rick raised both eyebrows, then took a sip of whiskey. “Um ... just my advice, of course, but you shouldn’t settle for a sexless marriage, let alone a loveless marriage. There are plenty of eligible bachelors who’d die to have a girl like you as their life partner.”
“Pfft! I have yet to meet one who’s not a bona-fide loser.”
He raised a single eyebrow, followed by a smirk. “Sure, you have. And just my two cents ... I think you got your money’s worth.”
Oddly, there was no flutter at his innuendo but ... there was the even odder, unfamiliar sensation of butterflies in her stomach.
The Unexpected Moment Before the Unexpected Moment
What could possibly go wrong with dinner at Gallaghers Steakhouse with Darcy’s military cousin, Rick? As first impressions went, only everything.
Watching him strut into the bar area, wearing a nicely tailored suit and black T-shirt, immediately arrested her heart, setting her off kilter.
The straight-backed, broad-shouldered retired US Army colonel oozed dominant confidence.
Although Richard Fitzwilliam projected a “Don’t Mess with Me” attitude, when he smiled his whole persona softened.
In fact, the man’s entire package, from gorgeous, wavy ginger hair, warm hazel eyes, and muscular physique knocked her off kilter.
His handshake and eye contact introduced him as an attentive man with focused purpose and consideration.
Before he ever uttered a word, Caroline respected him and wanted to know him better.
Usually, it took a few drinks, some small talk, or dinner before determining a guy’s worth—or hook up potential.
She just hoped Darcy hadn’t noticed her attraction.
Her cheeks felt flushed, and she couldn’t stop smiling.
Rick and Darcy hugged. “Hey, so great to see you, buddy,” Rick said.
“Likewise. It’s been too long. Rick, this is my fiancée, Caroline.”
“Yeah? String Bean! Charlie’s sister, right?” He took her hand in his, not squeezing too hard but seemingly unwilling to let it go. There was a warm familiarity to him, yet she couldn’t remember ever meeting him.
“Um ... yeah, that’s ... that’s right. Although they call me Beanz now.”
“Darcy and Beanz. Wow. Congratulations you two. I’m sorry I missed the engagement party.”
“No worries. It was a small affair of only about two hundred!” Darcy chuckled. “One half was Caroline’s side of crazies and the other half Aunt Catherine’s lunatic fringe.”
“Then, I’m glad I was stuck in Germany.”
“Our table’s ready, if you’re hungry,” she said, trying not to sound so eager.
“Great!” Walking through the dining room, Rick beamed. “Heck, I haven’t been to this place in years, but now that I’m out, it’ll be good to get back to living like I was born to.”
Damn. Maybe he’s gay! “Out?” she asked, trying to lag behind Darcy’s lead.
“I just retired from the army after twenty. It’s good to be back in New York and civilian life.”
Whew. Maybe not gay. “Are you from the city?”
“I’m a born and bred Manhattanite.” He grinned, two dimples winking back at her.
And that’s when she knew she was totally screwed. Dimples.
The thing is, usually, when her lady bits spoke, there was little she could do about it—other than the obvious—but she had no choice but to ignore the flutter. And while she may have had that minor, very temporary lapse of judgment with George, this guy was family!
They settled at an intimate table in the corner of the dining room, and following Darcy’s ordering of wine, his phone rang.
“This better be good,” he said, then grimaced, mouthing, “I’m sorry,” when he placed the phone to his ear.
“Hey, no problem. I get it—you’re an important guy.”
Darcy left the table, followed by Pete, who had eyes on them from the bar.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Rick asked with a chuckle in his voice.
“I confess, I don’t,” she said.
“Maybe it’s just as well.”
“Oh, c’mon! You have to tell me.”
“Regretfully, I threw you into my aunt Catherine’s koi pond when you were about twelve.”
She laughed. “I remember that! You were the pimply fat kid?”
“That was me.”
“Boy, you’ve changed.”
“So have you, String Bean.” They both laughed.
Her gaze raked him over. Yeah. He certainly had changed.
“So, Gigi tells me you’re an interior designer. What’s that like?”
“Oh! I love it. William helped me to open my consulting firm, and I guess, my first few clients were his business associates, but now I’m doing the hustle, pitted against the multi-generational design firms of Madison Avenue and Manhattan’s wealthy mavens.”
“I bet you handle them all just fine.”
“I try. I mean, I’m not professionally trained, but it sort of comes naturally since I’ve always loved design and playing with different styles, whether it be fashion or home. I would like to go back to school eventually.”
Talking to Rick felt so comfortable. She didn’t feel the need to impress or put on airs or even seduce him to be heard or even liked. Oddly, not even Darcy knew she wanted to go back to school for a design degree.
“How about you? Did you always want to go into the military?”
“Not really. I didn’t have a choice.” He joked.
“My father sent me off to a military academy when I started hanging around a bunch of no-good-nicks in Hell’s Kitchen.
Man, how I missed that crowd my first year at NYMA, but then the disciplined life and eventual leadership grew on me, and before I knew it, I was in the club for twenty years. ”
Oooo—a bad boy at heart. “Let me guess ... you own a motorcycle.”
“Two. How did you know?”
She shrugged, then smiled.
From there ... the night got worse. He wasn’t gay, the chemistry between them sizzled, and she was sure Darcy could see their attraction to each other.