This Is Not How It Ends(33)

“We’ll have to celebrate,” he finally said, though it was already too late. I’d seen his mood shift. It was there on his face. I was beginning to think coming here was all a big mistake.

“You seem upset,” I said.

He loosened his tie and trained his eyes on mine. “Having a baby girl who looks like you, Charley? What more could a man want?”

His expression told me he meant it, a deep sincerity that reached inside us. He inched his chair closer to mine, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “And if it’s a boy?” I asked.

“We’ll just keep trying.”

It wasn’t the response I’d expected, but I pushed the doubt aside and took pleasure in his embrace. He’d come around. He’d have to. Having a baby would make us a real family, something neither of us had had before. Having a baby would bind us together for eternity.

We dined on lobster dumplings and Peking duck, but Philip was quiet and faraway. Was I being paranoid for thinking he seemed sad? That he seemed distracted and a little lost?

“What’s wrong?” I finally asked.

“Long day, darling,” he said, reclining in his seat.

“This is silly,” I told him, licking the expensive caviar that accompanied the duck from my lips. “Two hundred dollars and we know where it ends up.”

“It’s the experience, Charley.” He appeared sullen, almost bruised. He rubbed at his eyes and I saw his brittle cheeks flatten. He seemed to catch his breath before speaking. “I love that about you, Charley. I love that you don’t care about this stuff. It’s why I fell for you . . .”

I smiled, feeling his love warm my skin. “That’s not why you fell for me—”

“Yes, of course, there were a few other things,” and then he turned a shade of melancholy, a side of Philip I wasn’t used to. “You do know how much I love you, right?” He had trouble looking me in the eye.

“Of course I do. I love you, too. You know that.”

Before he could finish his thought, the waiter approached with a chocolate raspberry sphere—exclusive to the hotel—a light almond sponge with lemon verbena ice cream, and two glasses of champagne.

“None for the lady,” he said, pushing the glass away. The queasiness had remained at bay throughout the meal, but I could feel the uncomfortable sensation returning. Philip threw the drink back and spooned ice cream into my hungry mouth, the cold soothing away the nausea.

“What does lemon verbena say about my personality?” I asked, curling into him.

“I’m not sure, though sherbet lovers are pessimistic . . . analytical. In fact, right now, you’re analyzing many things. This baby. Me. I know when your mind is busy, dear girl. Right now, it’s very, very busy.”

“Maybe you’re seeing a reflection of yourself,” I pointed out.

He gripped my fingers tighter and didn’t argue. And I suddenly had a premonition of what our life would be, and it terrified me. Philip and I, jolly and carefree, two who had always been on the same page, working toward the same destination, were at once not in step. It was as though he were paces behind me, or maybe it was me behind him. One of us was always trying to catch up. It would be fine if we ended up at the same place, but what if we didn’t?

“There’s something I want to tell you, Charley.”

He pulled me from one worry into another. I searched his face, the lines that threaded across his skin. “What is it?”

“I’ve been in contact with your father.”

I backed away. “You what?”

“Your father. I found him. He’s in Nashville.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You’ve already lost so much, Charley.”

It felt worse than a betrayal.

“My father wanted nothing to do with me. Why would you seek him out?”

He was shaking his head. “You don’t know that. Not everything is what it seems.”

“I expected more from you than a cliché, Philip.”

“It’s the truth,” he said, folding his napkin in his lap. “We had a few lovely chats. You should hear what he has to say. You may very well need him someday.”

My hand reached for the thin gold chain around my neck. “I thought you understood me, Philip. I thought—”

“I understand you all too well, Charley.”

“Wow.” I sat back, suddenly icy cold.

“He’s going to contact you. I wanted you to be forewarned.”

What did Philip expect me to say? Thank you? I’d managed just fine without him all these years. It made no sense to resurrect the dead.

I scooted out of the chair and reached for my bag. “I want to go back to the hotel.”

“We have to make one stop.”

“Not tonight, Philip. Please, I’m not in the mood.”

“One stop.”

He led me out of the restaurant toward the club. LIV was a loud, trendy nightspot, and Philip, despite his proper breeding, had a posse of DJs that invited him regularly to join them behind the turntable. I was always fascinated to see him, my old-fashioned Brit, take to the spinner, but tonight I couldn’t be less interested. The club was loud, and the vibration spilled through the youthful crowd—beautiful bodies swathed in decadent clothing and spiked heels. Neither of us belonged here, though no one seemed to notice.