“I missed you.”
She pulled away, lacing her fingers with his. “You have to do your concerts. Besides, we’re together now. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Ryan followed her to the table, pulled out a chair and seated her. “Champagne, madam?”
“Please.” Her eyes twinkled, and in that moment he fell in love all over again.
“Would it work for you if we kept the length of tours shorter, if I was away for a month at the most, instead of six months?”
“You’d do that for me?”
Ryan squeezed her shoulder and plucked the bottle from the ice bucket. “You’re my wife, Julia. Your needs are important.”
“Yes,” she said with a bright smile that echoed in her eyes. “That would work. But I get it. I understand you have to tour to promote your music. It’s part of the job.”
He handed her a glass and poured champagne for himself. “To us.”
She grinned and clinked her glass against his. “To marriage and love.”
“To my beautiful wife.” Emotion swelled inside him then, something bright and precious. Knowing she was willing to make their marriage work, and she was mentioning love meant everything to him. It gave him hope for the future, for the time when they’d start a family and grow old together.
Julia’s stomach let out a demanding grumble. “Told you I was hungry.”
The tomato soup flavored with the bite of herbs disappeared rapidly. Ryan dunked up the remains of his soup with a piece of bread. “Beats a diet of pizza and burgers. What else do we have?”
“Smoked salmon fillets and salad with coffee and truffles for dessert. What happened at the press conference? You seem distracted,” she added, her gaze skewering him—a demand to tell her now.
Ryan pushed away his bowl, no longer hungry. He sighed, not wanting to break the spell when things were going so well between them. “A woman has come forward and is telling everyone I’m the father of her baby.”
Her sharp inhalation broke the silence. “And are you?”
The even tone hurt way more than a shout or cutting words of anger. “I haven’t slept with another woman since I met you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.” He shrugged, unhappily admitting the truth to himself. “I don’t know.” Before Julia he’d slept with other women. Too many women. The kid’s age made it possible and that sent uneasiness rioting through him, as did the reporter’s attitude. “I don’t have any details, but I suppose there’s always an outside possibility.”
“I see.” Once again the even tone.
“Damn it. I never pretended to be a saint before I met you. Caleb and I both partied hard, but the minute I met you everything changed. This kid—it’s probably not even mine. If she takes things further, a DNA test will provide the truth.”
Julia nodded slowly, her chest rising and falling as she heaved a sigh. “You’re right. No point worrying until we learn the details. I wasn’t a saint before I met you either, so I don’t have the right to call you on things that happened before we met.”
Ryan bit back a scowl, not liking what she was saying. Double standards. True, but he couldn’t help the way his mind worked. He fiddled with his soup spoon, unwilling to look at her or let her witness any of his misplaced jealousy.
Julia reached across the table, placing her hand on his. “Thank you for telling me. It can’t have been easy.”
“No. I…I… God, I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You won’t. I’m here to stay.” Although the words were encouraging, the lack of ease in her smile alarmed him.
Julia woke from a fitful sleep. Ryan was curled around her, skin pressed to skin and they lay as close as two people could. He’d told her the truth, kept to their deal about honesty even though he’d risked alienating her with the news.
She wasn’t that brave.
She swallowed, remaining motionless in case she woke Ryan while her mind continued to chase around a mental obstacle course. She’d lied by omission. Tonight had been another opportunity to tell him about their baby—the one she’d lost. It would’ve been the perfect time to tell her husband that because of the fallout from the STD, it was unlikely she’d conceive again, not without difficulty. Tears welled and flowed down her cheeks, soaking the sheets, yet she remained still, biting her bottom lip to stop from sobbing. Guilt filled her, mired her down and refused to let her move forward.
Ryan loved kids. He’d want them some day. She owed him the truth.
