He pulled out a chair for her, sat opposite and poured glasses of Château Lafite Rothschild.
“Can we afford this?” she exclaimed.
“This is the bottle I won at the Sommelier Blind Tasting.” He brought up his glass. “To you.”
She laughed and clinked her glass against his. “And you.” Watching his kind, loving eyes, she sipped the dark ruby wine, robust and fruity, rich and smooth as velvet. How had she been so lucky to marry not only a kind man, but also a man who knew wines and how to cook? “Mmm. Black current and truffle.”
“I taste a bit of tobacco as well.” He handed her an envelope. “Your gift, Madame. And it would be the most wonderful gift to me, if you accept it.”
“Hmm. What does that mean?” She held the envelope up to the light. “A Victoria Secret gift certificate?”
Mischief danced in his eyes as he shook his head.
She waved it. “Jewelry?” She sniffed it. “A very flat bottle of perfume?”
She opened the envelope. A tightness encircled her lungs. First-class plane tickets to Paris. “Wow. That’s very…romantic and…thoughtful.”
David’s dimples deepened as his face glowed with pride. “I cleared it with your boss. He approved your vacation time.”
Heat rose in her face. “You spoke to Rick without asking me?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“I’d never talk to your boss behind your back.” She took a sip of wine, but the richness now tasted tart. “I appreciate your wanting it to be a surprise, but asking Rick was intrusive. And unprofessional.” She dropped the tickets on the table. “I’d never talk to your boss, behind your back, period.”
He sat back, his shoulders rounding. “I’ve asked you to accompany me on every trip I’ve taken to France since we were married there.” He rotated his fork making a circle on the white linen tablecloth. “You’ve always said you couldn’t get away. You’ve declined my invitation twice a year for every year of our marriage, that’s thirty times, including tonight. I wanted to make it easy for you to get away, so we could commemorate our marriage.”
Her jaw was so tight it throbbed. She took a long drink of wine. “Going away will make my return more stressful. There is no one to take on my responsibilities, and I’ll be slammed with work when I get back. I hate working under all that pressure. I don’t want to take time off.” She balled up her napkin and threw it on the table.
“You’d not be taking time off,” he whispered. “You’d be taking time to be with me.”
He was hurt, rightfully so. She wanted to be with him—she just didn’t want to be controlled by him. Her head pounded. “It’s not a good time.”
“It’ll never be a good time unless you take the time.” Hurt rose in his eyes.
She softened her words. “I’ll take the time, just not now.”
“What are you afraid of?” His tone grew impatient.
“I’m afraid of being overwhelmed by work and losing my job.”
“Why would you lose your job? You’re Rick’s star. He’d never let you go.” He poured more wine into her glass.
“How do you know? I’m his only designer. There’s no one else who can pick up the slack when I’m not there. Rick said yes to you to be polite, not because he can run his business without me.”
“Why don’t you want to go to France? We met there, fell in love there, had a wonderful time there, got married there.”
Something rock-hard sat in Claire’s stomach. Everything he said was true, so true that she knew if she returned to the place they’d fallen in love, he’d sweep her off her feet again, and he’d convince her to start a family, and she’d get pregnant, and she just wasn’t ready.
David shook his head and rotated his fork back and forth like a windshield wiper. “The real issue here is you not wanting a family, which you said you wanted.”
Her face burned as if his words had slapped her. “We have the same argument every year. And every year you don’t listen to me.” Maybe he knew her better than she did. That rock sitting in her stomach grew sharp and she hated herself for her words before she said them. “You’re bringing up children on our anniversary is not a good way to get them!”
“I am an only child, and I was lonely. I want a family. I would think you’d want children, too.”
“I do, just not now.”
“It’s been fifteen years. How long do you want me to wait?”
