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Etienne waited, watching him. "And?"
"And..." Jack rolled over onto one side again, propping himself up on an elbow. "And I don't know. What does it mean to you?"
Etienne sat at the foot of her bed, turning just her upper body to face him and keeping one foot on the floor. "It means that the man I've been in love with for the past fifteen years is in my bed, but I don't know for how long. Or if it will happen again. Or if it means anything at all."
Jack, stunned into silence, had sat up. The smile was gone from his face. "You've been in love with me since you were a teenager?"
"Of course, you idiot." Etienne shook her head. "I've been in love with you since you and Yannik took me sailing that first time."
Jack stared at her. "You never said anything."
"I was fifteen, Jack. And you were almost thirty. What was there to say?"
He tipped his head from one side to the other, acquiescing. "Sure. You're right. At that point, it would never have worked."
"And once, when I was twenty, you and Yannik and I went to dinner in London, and I thought I could say something to you about it, if I could just have time alone with you. I thought maybe I could convince you to consider me."
"But I was married by then."
"Yes," Etienne said sadly. "You were married. And I wasn't going to say anything at all. Maybe ever."
"Until last night."
"Was last night wrong?" Etienne asked, knowing that it was.
"Who decides what's right and wrong?" Jack had said, running a hand through his hair. His bare chest was strong and covered in a fine layer of hair.
Seeing him shirtless had reminded Etienne of the times she'd seen him that way sailing, and of the way she'd eyed him hungrily, wondering what he'd be like as a lover.
"The world decides, Jack."
"Or we do."
Etienne said nothing to this, but had picked at a loose thread on the cuff of her sweater.
"Listen," Jack said, reaching a hand across the bed as he leaned forward. He placed it on her bare knee. "Let's just see where this goes. I don't think the morning after is the best time to have the whole 'Where is this going?' talk. I don't think either of us knows for certain where it's going, do we?"
Etienne gave him a long, searching look. "I guess not."
"Okay," Jack said, patting her leg. "Then let's just enjoy the fact that we had an amazing night together. That we both clearly had some feelings for one another and it turned into..." He looked around the room and then gestured at the two of them. "It turned intothis."
Etienne had allowed him then to pull her closer, up and over the rumpled bedding and back into his arms. The sweater had come off and they'd followed their feelings again--more than once--before parting ways.
It wasn't until Etienne saw him again six weeks later when he came back to Paris that she'd realized two very important things: one, that she was completely, irrevocably in love with him, and two, that she was pregnant.
Telling Jack that she'd missed her period had been nerve-wracking. First she'd worried that he'd ask her whether it was his baby, and secondly, she feared his response--that he'd insist she not keep it.
And she'd known from the moment the second pink line appeared that she wanted to keep it.
But instead of all of her worst fears coming true, Jack had leaned his head back against the building in the alleyway behind the restaurant on Rue du Nil and looked up at the night sky. He'd been quiet for so long that Etienne felt as if she might have broken him.
"Jack?" she'd finally whispered, reaching out with one bare hand in the cold November air and lacing her fingers through his. "Are you okay? Is this okay?"
Jack lifted his head and looked her directly in the eye. "This is more than okay, Etienne. This is meant to be."
His words had taken her aback and she'd nearly stumbled in the narrow alley. Her black leather motorcycle jacket and short black skirt over thick, opaque tights had, just moments before, barely been enough to keep the bitingly cold air from making her teeth chatter, but she'd instantly felt warmed. Etienne took a step toward him in her thigh-high black boots, taking her hand from his as she placed both palms flat against his chest. She could feel his heart beating through the sweater and the wool jacket that he wore.
"I want this baby, Jack," she'd said huskily. "And I'm not asking you for anything. Not money," Etienne shook her head, "not for you to leave your family--nothing."
