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“Are you sure? You were looking green in the face,” she says and pushes the water at me. “Why don’t you take a sip?”
I shake my head and groan. “I’m fine. I guess I stood for too long.”
She gives me a weird look and then smiles. “How far along are you?”
My eyes widen, and I lower them, my face flushed. “About eight weeks.”
“Don’t you worry. It will pass soon. I remember my first. I couldn’t keep anything down. Getting up in the morning required gargantuan effort.” The middle-aged woman carries on telling me about her pregnancies and children.
I’m grateful for the respite, so I can rest a little from work. It has been a struggle getting out of bed, but so far I’ve managed. I hid the symptoms well, but I guess walking around the museum to get a feel of the place again was too much for me today.
I sincerely hope I can keep my pregnancy a secret before the exhibit is over to avoid anyone else knowing about it, although someone astute in such things might guess by now. But then, returning to New York means seeing Miles. Will I be showing by then?
I have to tell him about the baby, but I don’t know how to go about it. After refusing to speak to him through Monsieur Moreau, I later recognized that I had made a mistake. It would have been the perfect opportunity. And now, I don’t know how best to go about it. If I’m being honest, I’m worried that he’ll agree to be with me out of obligation. But I want him to commit to me because he wants to be with me and not because I’m carrying his baby. Is that selfish? Is that too much to ask?
“You know what? I think we should take a break. We’re already ahead of schedule with our plans. So, go home and rest.”
“No, I can’t do that. We still have to sort—”
“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you. You shouldn’t even be out in this icy weather. It isn’t good for the baby.”
I duck my head as I roll my eyes. Now Ines will take on a motherly role toward me instead of that of a colleague. Oh, why didn’t the nausea hit me when I was alone?
Before I can reply, a knock shifts my attention to the door. As if this day could get any worse, Pierre comes into the office. Ines gives me a knowing look as he starts exchanging pleasantries with her. No doubt, Ines believes he’s the father of my baby. My former colleagues, although glad to see me and impressed by my promotion, haven’t forgotten about the incident that made me leave. Fortunately, I haven’t come across Francine. I don’t look forward to such an unpleasant meeting, even though I’m no longer bothered by what she did.
“What do you want, Pierre?” I snap. He has been lurking around and trying to persuade me to go out with him like the good old days. He shows up every day at my office and wherever I am at the museum.
“Why do you insist on speaking in English when we’re in Paris?” He perches on the edge of the desk. “We barely spoke English before.”
“That was in the past. Why do you keep living in the past, Pierre?” I snarl before I can stop myself. I’m not in the mood for his long speeches about how wonderful it would be if we were a couple again.
“Are you all right? You look a little pale,” he says, and tries to caress my chin, but I jerk my head back. The sudden movement makes my stomach flip, but I hold back, determined not to throw up on him. He’s the last person I want to know about my baby.
“I’m fine. Please go away. I’ve got work to do.”
“Why don’t I take you to lunch at the Café Richelieu-Angelina? We could go to the—”
“Pierre! Cut it out. I don’t know why you can’t get it that we’ll never be together again. We’re done for good! Please stop disturbing me and making people think something is still going on between us. It’s annoying!”
A tense silence descends between us after my outburst. Pierre’s face pales, and I feel terrible for lashing out, but he got on my last nerve.
He stands up and clears his throat. “I can see you’re not in a good mood. I’ll come back at the close of work. Maybe we could grab dinner anywhere you want.”
Exhausted, I merely nod and watch him walk away. I bite my tongue to keep from calling him back and apologizing to him. I need him to get the message and leave me alone.
A few minutes later, accepting that taking Ines’s advice of going home would help me avoid seeing Pierre later, I pick up my bag and slowly rise. My breath catches in my throat when I turn around and see Miles standing at the door. I blink rapidly, thinking I might have conjured him.
“Miles?” I whisper not believing my eyes.
“Giselle.”
His voice seems real enough, as do the smoky eyes that glide over my body like silk. The rapid beating of my heart tells me he’s certainly not a figment of my imagination. Miles is indeed standing before me, looking devilishly handsome as usual in a gray suit and holding a map of the Louvre.
My heart does a flip, and I squelch the urge to rush forward, throw my arms around him, and just weep while telling him how much I miss him and how happy I am that he’s here.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? I’ve been standing outside in the cold at the Pyramid,” he says with exasperation.
“You could have entered through the carousel or the metro,” I respond irrelevantly.
