by Jenni James
“What’s going to happen when we go back to normal and you stop spoiling me all the time?”
He laughed. “Who says anything is going back to normal? I’m loving this way too much.”
A tinge of guilt flashed through her. It really was odd to be given so much stuff. But he was happy, and a small part of her loved that doing this brought out the little boy in him. It was so fun to see him like this.
“So, are you going to see what I brought?” He waved her over. “Come here and see.”
Jane peeked into one bag and saw a ton of veggies and eggs. “Omelets?” she asked.
“Or a quiche. You get to decide.”
“Quiche? I don’t think I’ve ever had a bell pepper in a quiche before.”
“Then you’ve never lived! A southwestern quiche is amazing. That’s it, we’re making one. Now hurry and look at the rest so I can start.”
“So demanding.” She grinned and peeked into the second bag. Confused, she pulled out an envelope.
“Ten lords-a-leaping!” He seemed so proud of himself.
“But . . . ?” She opened it up and then laughed. There were two tickets to see a Utah Jazz basketball game. “Clever. There will definitely be men leaping all over the place.” He really was ingenious. “I never would have come up with this idea if I had years to think about it.”
Charles wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Stick with me, kid, and maybe I’ll begin to rub off on you.”
She touched her hair. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d want my head to grow as big as yours. I like my hats!”
“Hey! Now, get out of my way. I’ve got a masterpiece to prepare.”
“Fine. I’m going to get ready for the day. Tell me when it’s safe to come out again.”
By the time Jane stepped out of the shower, the place smelled amazing. When she was dressed and came out of her room, the quiche was cooling on the stovetop. “It looks wonderful.” She lightly touched the top. It sprang back perfectly. “I have to say, I’m impressed. After the last time you used my kitchen, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to pull it off, but this is better than anything I’ve ever attempted before.”
“Don’t get too excited. Wait till you try it first.”
A few minutes later, she was exclaiming all over again. “It’s amazing! I could seriously get used to this. So, when did you learn how to cook?”
For the next twenty minutes or so, they gabbed playfully. It was nice—cozy—good.
As the afternoon wore on, they took their conversation into the comfortable living room. When the reality of why he had come over couldn’t be ignored anymore, Jane leaned back on her side of the couch and broke into the middle of a trivial thing they were discussing, blurting out, “So, about the last few days…”
Charles imitated her and leaned back on his side as well. “Yes? I was hoping you’d bring it up, but I didn’t want to pry.”
She decided to test the waters first. “Do you have any idea why I sort of flipped?”
“No. I’m worried that it has something to do with me, but I’m not sure, so until I know, I’ve promised myself I won’t freak out.”
Jane took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. “Well, it is about you. It’s something you did.”
“Okay.” He shifted uneasily in his seat. “Now I’m sort of freaking. What happened? What did I do?”
She looked down and fiddled with her hands a moment, attempting to stall while she regained her voice. “I found a note written by Eliza when I was at her house the other day.”
He looked surprised. “A note for me?”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. Maybe you, maybe Will. It had been written a while ago. I’m thinking a few months, at least. And from what I could tell, it wasn’t really a note-note—more like a therapeutic letter defending me and telling you or Will off.”
“Oh.” Charles leaned forward with his head down. “It was about what happened eight months ago, wasn’t it? I can explain.”
She crossed one leg over the other. “Please do. I’ve wondered what I could have done to make you believe me instead of Will Darcy when he told you I was only after your money. And then the other half of me is stunned and very uncomfortable with the fact that you’re spending so much on me now—as if I’d somehow given you the impression this is the only way to my heart.”
His jaw dropped. “Okay. I didn’t see that last part coming at all. You have to realize that yes—I was a fool. I did believe Will. Which is all my fault, not his. If I’d been the man you were expecting, I would’ve told Will off for even saying something like that, but instead, I took off. Why? That’s been the biggest question for me—why would I leave you?
“The answer came to me a week or so ago, and I mentioned it before. I was scared stiff of where we were heading and how much I was falling for you. So I took the first opportunity to run.” His eyes met Jane’s. “Honestly, I’ve been miserable without you. It might seem like I’m this guy who’s had a ton of experience with women, but not with anyone real in my life. In fact, it’s all been from women who wanted my money—my lifestyle. I’m pretty much clueless on how to act around a woman—a real one I love.”
“Love. Do you actually love me, Charles Bingley?” She didn’t know where that question had come from or where she’d got the gall to ask it, but suddenly, she wanted to take it back. Immediately.
“Yes. Oh, I know I do. I’ve already told you—though I don’t think you believed me. I did eight months ago, too—before I left. “
She chuckled and tried to lighten the mood, hoping to hide that her heart was thumping wildly. “No pressure there.”
“None at all.” He clasped his hands together and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I know I’ve messed up. I know I’ve got a slim chance here to get you back. And I know it’s all my fault.” He rubbed his eyes and glanced back at her. “When Will told me the truth and that he’d been wrong, I felt like such a jerk. I felt such relief too—but like the biggest loser as well. I couldn’t imagine you’d ever have anything to do with me again. I half expected you to have moved on already, and I knew it’d serve me right.”
“It hurt, Charles. It hurt to believe you’d think that of me. And not just think it, but flee without a second thought.”
“You’re wrong.” He scooted closer. “There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you. And miss you. I’d nearly convinced myself to come back and marry you anyway—who cared if you wanted my money? At least we’d be together.”
“But I didn’t want it! I don’t want it!”
He held out his hands. “I know that. I know that for sure now. I know, I know…” He gestured to the room. “And this—all of this Christmas stuff was a desperate plan from a desperate guy to win you back. Not once has the cost of it even entered my mind.”
“Not once?” How rich was he, anyway? How could he not have some sort of budget planned for this? It was baffling to imagine.
“And then, after Grammy spent a good couple of hours chewing me out over my actions at the wedding, I knew I had to do something more than usual—something a bit outrageous to show you I was serious. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t realize she told you off for two hours.”
He nodded. “I did warn you I was clueless about how to treat women, didn’t I?”
She shook her head and attempted a smile. “I’m sorry too. I think of all those wasted months when we could’ve been happier, and I just shake my head. I’m not sure why you’d risk all we had going for a rumor someone else spread. You never came to me—we never talked it out. You just broke up and left me shattered. I grieved way too long for you.”
“No. Please, stop.” He scooted in even closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or even understand why I hurt you. I don’t. But I understand if you never will.”
Jane snuggled against his broad chest and brought her fingers up to play with his collar. From this angle, she felt so
small and so protected.
Charles began to play with her hair, lifting the strands and smoothing them back out again, sending tingles up and down her spine. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “I’ve never had a relationship like this. I’ve grown into what I should’ve been months ago, but how could you believe me? It’s too late.”
“You’re not too late,” she whispered, wrapping one of her arms around his back. “I do forgive you. My only fear is that you’ll see something else you don’t like in me and run again.”
“No.”
“And so I’m hesitant to commit. I’m afraid of being rejected again.” She leaned up and kissed his jaw. “But I do want this. I want this to be real more than anything. You make me so happy. Even without the gifts, you, just you is all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Jane?”
“Mmm?”
“Why are you so perfect?”
Her fingers stopped fiddling with his collar, and a slightly evil streak went through her. She grinned and answered, “Well, someone had to balance your stupidity.”
“What?”
Then a great ruckus began. They played and laughed and teased and wrestled and proved once again how perfectly imperfect they both were, and how much they’d each needed such a silly release. It wasn’t until much later when Charles had lifted Jane over one shoulder and a neighbor came knocking asking for quiet that the two decided perhaps they should prepare for the basketball game instead. Composed, overheated, and attempting to giggle silently, they walked out of the apartment and down to his car—with a few stolen kisses in between. The last thing Jane remembered Charles asking before he closed her passenger door was, “That was a workout. I’m starving. How about you?” It was then as he winked and ran around to the driver’s side that her heart completely flip-flopped over his gorgeous smile, and she realized once and for all that she’d met her match.
And if he were to ask her that moment to marry him, she’d neither hesitate nor wait—she’d insist they’d elope. All this time they could’ve already been together, why would she ever want him gone?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eleven Pipers Piping
Jane had to go back to work that morning. Charles tried not to miss her too much, but dang it, he did. He’d almost shown up at the school and become the librarian’s helper just so they could spend more time together, but he decided not to. Besides, he had a fun evening planned and didn’t want to spoil the surprise, so he drove over to his grandma’s house instead.
“And how is everything going?” Grammy asked as she opened the door. “Better?”
“So much better.” Charles tapped snow off his boots and then glanced around. “Where’s your shovel? Let me get this walk cleared for you. Looks like your place got even more snow than mine last night.”
“Oh! Would you please?” She turned from the door. “It’s in the garage. Let me get my coat and I’ll come help.”
He shook his head. The stubborn woman. “Grammy, the whole point of me shoveling is so you don’t have to.”
She gasped and looked back at him. “But how else am I supposed to learn all the gossip?”
Charles tried unsuccessfully to hide his laugh as he leaned over and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “I love you. Now get me a plate of some of those cookies I know you’ve got in your tin and some cocoa, and I’ll be in to answer whatever questions you may have.”
Her eyes twinkled. “You promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
In a matter of minutes Charles was folding himself into her soft couch and balancing a very full plate full of cookies and sandwiches and any other leftovers she could foist upon him, as well as a large mug brimming full of the hot cocoa he’d asked for. “You didn’t have to give me all of this.” He sipped from the mug and set it down on a coaster on the small table nearest him.
“After all these years, I know what you really mean when you say you want some cookies.” Grammy wagged her finger as she came into the room. “So don’t go on pretending you’re not starving to death. I know better.”
His eyebrows rose, but he bit his tongue. Sometimes he thought Grammy got him confused with his fifteen-year-old self and never really saw that he’d grown up. Nevertheless, the food looked wonderful, and he was nearly starving, and so without any more complaints, he dug in. “Thank you.”
“Good.” She clasped her hands together as she sat down on the chair. “Now tell me everything. What’s your gift for tonight? It’s the eleven pipers piping?
“Yes,” he said around a mouthful of food.
“So are you still planning on the symphony?”
When he nodded while sipping some cocoa, she broke out in glee.
“Oh, Jane will love that so much! Chazz, she has needed you—that girl is something just special. And I’m so glad you’re back to talking again.” Grammy shifted in her seat. “So how did you do it? What happened? You promised. Now spill!”
As they walked into the symphony and Charles watched several men eye his lovely Jane—wearing the silver dress from her sister’s wedding—his chest expanded another five or six inches. Yes, she’s mine. Yes, I’m that lucky. No, you can’t have her—I saw her first.
It wasn’t just the dress that caught people’s attention. It was her joy at being at a symphony, that special something that literally drew people to her.
He’d scored excellent seats in the third row. Once the symphony began, Charles couldn’t keep his eyes off Jane. With each squeeze of her hand in his, he knew she’d unconsciously given herself away again. She loved every moment, and that joy resonated through her fingers in his.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I love you.”
Their eyes met, and she searched his before answering, “I believe you.”
But it wasn’t conceited, it wasn’t prideful or boastful—it was the exact response he’d been praying for this whole time. It was a calm, reassuring, solid conviction. She knew without a doubt that he loved her. She knew it. His breath caught in his throat as her gaze bore into him.
“Thank you for loving me,” she said as the applause around them boomed. Then her lips moved in closer, her hand tightened in his, and his breathing stuttered to a stop. “My heart is yours. I’ve never loved anyone but you.”
Later that night as they cuddled together on her sofa, dreaming of their future, he was reminded again just how incredible she was.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Jane said as she snuggled in next to his heart.
“Yes?”
“If we were ever to get married, where would we live?”
“Oh, we’re getting married. There’s no ‘if’ about it.”
His heart warmed as she giggled. The wisps of her hair tickled his lips and stuck to the slight stubble on his chin. “Okay. I like that answer, but are you planning on staying in New York?”
Oh. He hadn’t thought that far in advance. “I’m contracted to work there for the next four months, and then I guess it’ll depend on where I’d like to go from there. Where would you like to live?”
“School gets out in May, and then I guess I have no other obligations—though I do love working with the children. However, I’ll be happy anywhere.”
“There are children everywhere.”
“This is true.”
“Jane,” he whispered against her brow. “You are the one who gets to choose. I left you once, and I’m not going to leave you again. If you would like to live in New York and see the sights, I believe we’d be happy. Traveling home isn’t an issue. We can head back whenever you’re homesick, or for family functions, or whatever.”
“But to see New York, really see it, and not just visit. What an experience.” Her voice grew more excited as she spoke.
“It’s definitely an iconic and unique place. And it’d be completely bearable if you were there with me to explore it.”
She sat up and looked at him. “What if—I know this is crazy talk—but what if we renewed your contract for a
year and just had an adventure? Away from family and friends and all of that. To really give us a good start. They say the first year of marriage is the hardest, so let’s make certain we have only each other to rely on. That way, we’re not caught up in anything but making our own way together.”
“And what if we love New York and decide we’d like to stay there forever and have children there and—”
“How many kids do you want? Do you really want children?” Her grin captivated him—and her eyes! They sparkled.
If just the mention of children made her this happy, how could he ever dream of dampening that? “Of course I want kids. How else will my mother’s curse come into effect? She always warned me I’d have children just like me when I grew up.”
“Oh, no!” Jane chuckled. “Maybe I should rethink this whole kid thing. I don’t think I could handle an adorable Charles mini-me running around.”
“Think of the mischief,” he teased.
“Exactly.”
“I love you.”
“I really don’t care where we live, or how many children we have—as long as we have a few.”
“A few?” He pretended to be shocked and push her away, but he instantly brought her back down to his chest again. “How many is a few again? Two? Three?”
“Four, five.” She grinned and wrapped her arms around him. “Does it matter?”
He pretended to cough, but then grew serious. “With you, I don’t think it would ever matter. You’re the one who carries them. I’ll be grateful for whatever you’d like to have. And think of how happy our parents will be.”
She sighed and squeezed him. “Thank you.” And then for no apparent reason, she seemed to remember something. “Oh, dear. I forgot.”
“What?”
Jane sat up, looking worried.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure you will be.”
“Why?”
“Because I totally forgot—I texted her the other day and postponed it, but it’s pretty much inevitable. My mom wants you over for dinner.”