“We’ve got a few French chefs as clients. They like to keep us on our toes, that’s for sure.”
“Pretty amazing, Lucy winding up as one of your customers after all these years,” Rosie said. “It’s a small world.”
“Even smaller when you’re Italian,” Dom said. “Lucy is one of our favorite clients. My father and I fight over who gets to serve her.”
Even though she knew he was only joking, Lucy shifted in her chair.
“That’s rubbish. You almost always serve me,” she said, aware of her sister’s speculative glance bouncing back and forth between them.
“That’s because I cheat,” Dom said with an unrepentant grin.
The waiter arrived with their hot chocolates and cake, and Dom checked his watch.
“I’ll leave you to it—looks as though you’ve got your work cut out for you,” he said, indicating the generous slices of cake.
“See you tomorrow,” Lucy said.
Dom smiled and gave a small, casual wave before moving to the other side of the café, out of sight behind the central counter.
“Oh. My. God. Pass me the chocolate. I need emergency therapy,” Rosie said, slumping in her chair and fanning herself. “He’s better-looking than ever. What a hunk. I mean, wow.”
“Oh, look, there’s Andrew,” Lucy fibbed.
Rosie immediately sat up straight. Then she realized her sister was yanking her chain.
“Good one. Very funny.”
“Just a timely reminder.”
“Hey, I love Andrew with everything I’ve got, don’t you worry. I’m not going anywhere, with anyone. But I can still admire The Bianco. It’s a sentimental thing.”
“It’s sad. And, can I say, just a little embarrassing. You almost got drool on your good shirt.”
“Pshaw,” Rosie said, flicking her fingers in the air. “I was in total control the whole time.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and spoke to the ceiling. “Delusional. The woman’s delusional.”
“Anyway, he never even noticed me. He was too busy looking at you like he wanted to lick you all over.”
Lucy stared at her sister.
“He was not!”
“Uh-huh. He was, and he was flirting with you, too.”
“Get out of here. I look like I’ve got a beach ball stuck up my top. He was not flirting with me.”
“Lucy is one of our most favorite clients ever. My father and I wrestle to the death over who gets to serve her. What do you call that?”
“Being polite. Or being funny. Maybe both. But not flirting.”
Rosie gave her a get-real look. “Seriously? You seriously didn’t think he was flirting with you?”
“Of course not. Duh,” Lucy said, pointing to her belly.
“Man. We are going to have to do something about your dating skills, because if you’re not picking up signals that strong, you are never going to find another man,” Rosie said.
Lucy knew her sister was only joking, but her words still caught her on the raw.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Rosie asked as Lucy reached for her hot chocolate and concentrated on stirring it.
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Bad at flirting and bad at lying. What am I going to do with you?”
Lucy stopped stirring her drink and met her sister’s eyes.
“I don’t want another man. I want Marcus. I want the father of my baby,” she said in a small voice.
Her sister stared at her, her face full of sympathy.
“Go on, say it. Tell me I’m pathetic for wanting someone who doesn’t want me,” Lucy said.
“I don’t think that’s pathetic. Marcus is the pathetic one. I just feel sad that I can’t give you what you want.”
Lucy sighed heavily and picked up a fork.
“I guess all this chocolate is still very necessary, after all,” she said.
“Chocolate is always necessary, whether it be for celebration or commiseration,” Rosie said.
Her sister waited until Lucy was swallowing a chunk of sinfully rich frosting before speaking again.
“And he was flirting with you. The Bianco was fully, blatantly, balls-out flirting with you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“DID YOU EVEN consider discussing this with me first?” Andrew asked.
Rosie put down her knife and fork and gave her husband her full attention.
“I should have waited to talk to you, I know—”
“You think?”
Rosie blinked. Andrew didn’t often lose his temper but when he did it was usually well-earned. Like tonight. As soon as she’d given it some thought, she’d known she should have spoken to him before offering the money to Lucy. But she couldn’t undo what had already been done.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away. All I was thinking about was Lucy and how I could help. I hate that she’s in such a difficult position.”
“I hate it, too. But we’ve already given her a home. We can’t afford to give her our savings, too.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but that money’s just sitting in the bank, collecting interest. Why not use it to help Lucy? She’ll pay us interest like the bank. It’s a win-win situation.”
Andrew pushed his chair back from the table and stood.
“What about our plans to renovate the practice? What about getting a junior partner? All that just goes by the wayside, does it?”
“No, of course not. But it’s not like we were actually ready to do any of that. We haven’t even decided on an architect yet.”
“Because you keep putting it off.”
Rosie stood, hating being at a disadvantage. “I haven’t put anything off. Neither of us has pushed for the renovation. We’ve been too busy building the practice.”
Andrew looked at her, his face tense.
“Rosie, every time I suggest we start talking to architects you come up with a reason for why we can’t. First it was the Larson trial, then it was the Bigalows’ divorce. The time after that you strained your Achilles’ at the gym and you didn’t want me doing all the legwork on my own.” He stared at her, his jaw set. “If you’re not ready to have children, tell me and stop stringing me along.”
Rosie took a step backward. She hadn’t been expecting such a direct confrontation, not after the way they’d both been sidestepping the issue for so long. It had become a game of sorts, the way they skirted around the all-consuming subject of when to start a family.
“I’m not not ready,” Rosie said quickly, even though her stomach tensed with anxiety. “I’m not stringing you along. The time simply hasn’t been right before.”
Andrew sighed heavily. His blue eyes were intent as he looked into her face. “So when will the time be right if we give all our savings to Lucy? Five years? Ten years? You’re thirty-one. How old do you plan on being when our kids are in college? You’re the one who insisted we needed to add a junior partner to the firm before we even