Page 58 of Vincent
"You've moved on pretty quickly." He was trying to get his temper under control but was having a difficult time of it.
"What do you want me to say to that? You left my place in anger almost three weeks ago and I haven't heard anything from you. You made it plain you wanted nothing to do with me."
He swung around, his gaze slicing at her. "You were deceitful. What the hell did you expect me to do with the information you gave me?"
"Evidently nothing. I need to go back in-"
"So, that bastard can continue to paw you? How quickly you jumped from my arms to his!"
"How dare you!" Her eyes flashed fire. "You don't want me; you made that very obvious. So, it's none of your business who I'm with. Now-"
"I don't want you?"
She backed up a step as he advanced, his expression thunderous.
"I've wanted you every bloody day of my life and you never gave me one ounce of encouragement. You just wanted to be friends."
"I-"
"It could have been different for us. Everything could have been different. But you kept your mouth shut!" His hands gripped her arms, fingers digging into her flesh. "Now you're here, half-naked and flaunting that French bastard for all the world to see. I hate you for what you did to me."
"Vincent-"
Flinging her arms away, he strode away, leaving her shaken and standing there staring after him.
She sat on the edge of the marble tiles, her knees shaking. It was there that Francois found her, with her arms wrapped protectively around her waist.
"Cherie, everything all right?"
She shook her head, her lips trembling. "I need to get out of here."
Without another word, Francois hurried back in to grab their coats.
*****
"I can stay if you want," Francois told her as he took her hands in his. He had insisted on coming inside with her to make sure she was all right. And as soon as she stepped into the living room and out of her ankle breakers, she bolted for the bathroom.
When she opened the door, it was to see him standing there, with a knowing expression on his handsome face.
After taking her arm and leading her to the living room, he made her tea and brought the saltines he found in the pantry.
"No need."
"Does he know? That moronic man that I simply just want to punch my fist into his face."
She stopped blowing on the steam rising from the cup to laugh softly. "No, he doesn't."
"Cherie-" He gave her a look of disapproval. "Why on earth not?"
She shrugged and took another sip to settle her sore stomach. "I haven't had the chance to tell him yet. We left things at an awkward stage, and you see the way he was tonight. He left here after an argument and hasn't called me since."
"Be that as it may, he deserves to know you're carrying his child." Taking the cup from her, he put it onto the tray. "I have no difficulty raising another man's child as long as you're the mother. But I have a feeling that this man, this man who has a lot more money than I do, will strongly oppose such an arrangement. You should tell him."
"When he calms down," she promised.
"Which is when?"
She shrugged again and reached for the cup.
