“I’m going to get settled in my room,” Charlotte said. “Mrs. Flanagan, where should I put Jacob?”
“We’ve readied the blue room down from yours.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Flanagan. We’ll be down for dinner at seven.”
“Very good.”
Charlotte turned away and Mrs. Flanagan’s voice stopped her again. “Charlotte?”
Jacob watched as Charlotte turned back.
“It’s very good to have you home, love.”
“It’s good to be home,” she replied softly, and then she led Jacob up the stairs.
He followed, still carrying the bags, and before too long they were at Charlotte’s bedroom door. He deposited her suitcase inside, and stared at her bed. It was the most original, beautiful piece of ironwork he’d ever seen and must weight a ton. A four-poster, but each post had iron twisted around it like vines, with leaves, flowers and more vines creating a canopy over top. The walls were a soft sage green with white trim, and the bedding and draperies had a softer sage green background with delicate pink and yellow blossoms. It was like walking into a garden.
“Wow,” he said, stepping farther into the room. “I thought the rooms at the Manhattan apartment were gorgeous, but this... This is amazing.”
“Maman and Father let me decorate it myself when I was sixteen. I chose the furniture and fabrics myself, and I’ve never had the heart to change it.”
“Remind me why you’re in PR and not design or something?”
To his surprise, she blushed. “I do help William out on the fashion side of things. It’s why I was so happy to go to New York for Fashion Week. The thing is, we, as family members, don’t really do much of the designing or formulating. We run the business. Of course we love it all, so the disconnect is one of function only.”
“You certainly seem to have a talent, though.” He still couldn’t get over how stunning her room was. “Have you thought about doing a home design part of the business?”
She laughed. “You’re good for my ego, Jacob. And truthfully, not home design. I have a secret thing for shoes, and it’s one of the few things Aurora hasn’t delved into yet.”
“Then you should.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You should do whatever sets you on fire, Charlie.”
Shock gripped him as she spun around and pressed her lips to his. He opened to her fully; he’d wanted to do this each day since they’d last seen each other. She tasted like spring and the mint tea from their drive, and he dropped his duffel and put his arms around her, pulling her close.
Thank God. He’d started to think that she was over what had happened in New York.
She ended the kiss and stepped back, pressing her fingers to her lips. “Oops,” she said softly.
“That didn’t feel accidental to me,” he replied, and he looked at her lips again, biting down on his own. Hers were plump and pink, waiting to be kissed again.
“Not accidental...maybe impulsive?” She giggled a bit, as if she were nervous. “You said to do what sets me on fire...”
“Be careful,” he warned. “That’s what got us here in the first place.”
Her face changed, sobering. “God, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. We’re here to talk about what we want for the future. This has to be part of that discussion, don’t you think? We shouldn’t dance around it. It’ll only complicate things.”
“I agree.” She lifted her chin. “We’re here to set out terms, not for some weekend getaway.” She gestured toward the door with her hand. “Shall we? I’ll show you to your room. You can get settled and we can meet for dinner.”
Charlotte was resetting the baseline for their conversation and he understood and appreciated it. Still, he was glad she’d kissed him, with such passion and longing. It gave him hope. They had nearly seven months before the baby was born. Time in which he could show her how he felt about her. Time for her to maybe fall in love with him the way he’d fallen in love with her.
Because in the days since she’d told him the news, he’d been able to come to only one conclusion. He wanted to be with her, even if it was messy. Even if he was intimidated and out of place. Life was just better with her in it. He found himself wanting things he hadn’t wanted for years. Money be damned, status be damned... He wanted to be a father to this baby and he wanted to love its mother the best way he knew how. The way his father had loved his mother until she died. And the way Cedric Pemberton had loved Aurora.
* * *
Coming home had been the right choice.
Charlotte stepped out