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Charlotte exhaled deeply, letting go of all her hopes and dreams, and inhaled the possibilities of her future if she had reasonable expectations.
“I'm going to say yes. But don't tell anyone. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“It may not even get to the wedding. Maybe we can pretend to be engaged.”
Emmaline laughed. “Girl, think like a businesswoman. He'll pay for the wedding, and you're the planner.Kaching. Kaching. Besides, I've got something used since your fantasy dress was destroyed. Then again, I'm sure he can afford to buy you something new. We'll work on the borrowed and blue.”
Charlotte supposed if it got to that point, what she wore wouldn't matter. She could probably get away with last night's dream attire. “I've got to go.” She hung up and headed back into the house, ready to tell Bastien she'll be his wife.
She found him and Tiffany standing in the kitchen, shaking hands.
Bastien turned to Charlotte. “I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Tiffany Townsend.”
Charlotte's stomach dropped, and she stumbled back. Tears started forming, but she didn't dare let them fall. “I'm overjoyed,” she said, but her voice shook as she swiped at her eyes. She moved forward, her legs feeling like lead. She wanted to scream at the unfairness in the world and run away, but all she could do was stand there, smile, and face the consequences of her actions. She'd brought them together, fully expecting this result. It had never occurred to her that success would hurt so much.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Bastien felt unsettled and conflicted about the deal he had made with Tiffany. He knew it solved his problem, but it felt off. It was harder to override his integrity than he expected, but what choice did he have? The woman who might have made him an honest man turned him down flat. He asked Charlotte to take care of the contract and left to take care of days of unanswered emails. It had been three days since he and Charlotte had been together, and he missed her more than he’d imagined possible. He had asked her for dinner, but she declined, saying she was too exhausted. He had gone to the beach in front of her house, hoping to see her make a wish on the ocean, but only the memory of his own wishes was there. Early this morning, he heard a car start up and rushed outside, hoping it was her. The silver vehicle was slowly driving away, but Charlotte never once turned around to look back.
He stared at his phone, ready to text her, but it rang before he could dial her number. His mother’s name flashed across the screen. He hadn’t spoken to her since the tumultuous confrontation with her private investigator. He debated answering now, but knew if he didn’t, she’d call everyone at her disposal to track him down. Last year when he avoided her calls at Christmastime, she sent the police to do a welfare check. She was a bloodhound on the trail.
He lifted the receiver to his ear, bracing himself for a barrage of questions and reprimands. “Hello, Mother.”
“I hope you’re doing well, dear,” she said. “Ivy too?” To his surprise, her voice was soft and gentle.
Bastien let out a slow breath. “All’s well here. Ivy is fine. More than fine. She’s happy.”
“I’m not asking only about Ivy. I’m asking about you, too.” He flopped onto the couch, pulling the phone from his ear to check the caller ID and make sure it was his mother. Since when did she care how he was doing?
“I’m good. Busy as usual.” He wanted to slap his forehead for saying that because his business was one of his mother’s chief concerns when it came to caring for Ivy.
“Have you found another nanny?”
It had been three days since he’d paid the private eye to leave. Loyalty was important to some, but money spoke to most, and all he had to do was pay more than his mother to get the man to go away.
“I’m sure your guy reported that I still don’t have help.”
She paused for a beat. “That’s why I’m calling. Raising a child is exhausting. I should know. I had two.”
He didn’t want to point out that she hadn’t raised either, as they were having a civil conversation, so he ignored her comment. “Ivy is an easy kid,” he said. “She’s no trouble at all. Chloe did an amazing job. Ivy makes great choices.” Most of the time, he felt like Ivy was the mature one and he was the kid. She was teaching him so much about hope, resilience, generosity of spirit, and love. Recently, she’d come home with only half of the shells she’d brought for show and tell. When he asked her what happened to them, she said she thought it would be better to make it a share-and-tell day. He knew how important those shells were to her, and when he asked if she’d miss them, she smiled and said yes, but it was like sharing a part of her mom with everyone else, and that made her feel like she was there.
He had a feeling his mother wasn’t phoning to chat. “What is the reason for your call, Mother?” he asked. She never called without a motive, and they were far from being friends who just chatted to catch up.
His mother cleared her throat before saying, “Yes, the conductor for the philharmonic got the flu, so they moved the show to next month. I’ll be arriving tomorrow afternoon.” His mother’s reply sent his heart into free fall. He’d just managed to acquire a suitable pretend fiancée but had no idea who she was. There was no way they would survive an Annette Richmond cross-examination.
“Tomorrow? Where will you stay?”
“With you, of course.”
He ground his teeth together. “No, that won’t work,” he said firmly. “You should try The Kessler. We don’t have enough bedrooms here—they’re both taken.” It wasn’t exactly a lie; the house had three bedrooms, one of which was empty. He thought about converting it into an office for the time being.
“You’re going to send your mother to a hotel?”
“It’s a resort, mother. You’ll probably like it.” It wasn’t the Four Seasons, but it would do. “They have housekeepers, staff, and room service. You’ll feel right at home.”
“Alright, I’ll make the call,” she said. “It would be great if we could be friendly, for Ivy’s sake.”
