She was in love with the most amazing, sensitive, talented man she’d ever met—and he had scheduled a Dear Jane Dinner.
* * *
Gideon had never been more miserable in his life. He’d spent the entire weekend after the evening with Rachel carrying what felt like a mason block in his stomach.
Now, as he sat across the table from Fiona—who looked as disheveled and New Agey and lovely as always—he found himself taking a larger drink of his martini than he should have. It was very dry, with Grey Goose, smooth and clean…but the way he swallowed it—hard, fast, and large—ruined it, and left him with a rasping throat.
He’d have been better off just shooting the vodka, or something just as strong, without the fancy dressing of a martini glass and olive.
Fiona sat across the table from him, watching as tears sprang to his eyes while he battled the urge to cough and choke.
Her hands rested on the table, folded neatly, her fifteen rings (he’d counted them more than once—and the number was always the same) glinting silver and platinum in the low light. She looked at him with large cinnamon eyes, and there was an eerie calmness about her that made him feel even worse.
When the server approached and asked if they were ready to order their dinner, Fiona folded her menu and laid it precisely next to her plate.
“Not yet,” she told the waiter. “We’ll need at least fifteen minutes. Come back then, please.”
Gideon closed his mouth and stared at the menu. After the server walked away, he looked up at Fiona, who was watching him steadily.
“I don’t see any reason to order dinner,” she told him calmly. “But I didn’t want to mention that in front of the waiter. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”
“Fiona.” He took another drink of his martini—this one went down much better, though his stomach was in square knots. “I hardly know where to begin.”
“Let me help you. It has to do with Rachel, I’m sure. And it has to do with us.” She linked her fingers in front of her and looked at him.
Gideon heaved a deep sigh. He might as well put it all on the table—Fiona was already halfway there. “I found out on Saturday night that Rachel’s pregnant.”
He waited while she digested the words. She blanched, then her expression settled.
Then, most horribly of all, it became bleak.
Cold, dead, empty and bleak.
“I see. Well, that makes it easy for me, then,” she said in a voice so calm his heart stopped.
“What do you mean?”
“I realized after I made that stupid comment the other day about you leaving your toothbrush that I probably scared you off. I know that it scared me; and pretty much as soon as I said the words, I wanted to take them back.
“I was going to tell you I wanted to slow things down…but I guess that would be a moot point, now, wouldn’t it? I have to assume you’re telling me about Rachel’s pregnancy because you’re the father. This just makes thingssomuch easier. For both of us.” She gave him a very bright smile.
Gideon felt like he was standing on the edge of a sand pit, and the sand was falling away under his feet as he stumbled backward.
He delved into her with his gaze, searching her expression to see if he could read anything behind her words. She appeared calm, sincere, and collected. He looked closely into her eyes, and they matched his without guile as she held her smile.
Maybe for a trifle too long.
“We’re too different,” she said. “But it’s been a lot of fun and wonderful hot sex—and a few laughs, too…but, you see, I’ve been feeling a little cramped lately.” She chuckled, the sound clear and unstrained, and Gideon suddenly knew—with a sharp blow to the heart—that she was telling the truth.
That it didn’t matter what he’d planned to say. That his carefully-thought-out decision and position on the future no longer had meaning.
“I don’t know for sure that the baby’s mine,” he managed to say, trying to salvage some ounce of control. “I don’t want to stop seeing you, Fiona—”
“Well, that was obvious since you slid into bed with me the night you found out—the night you must have found out about the baby,” Fiona said with the faintest harsh edge to her voice. “I know it was Friday night, because you were…different after. But…I suppose you didn’t have much choice coming to bed with me, seeing as I was already there.”
The smile on her face had become brittle and Gideon felt that sand rushing away from his feet faster now, and he could almost see the funnel through which it was spiraling down.
“Fiona—”
