Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(19)

I know the answer, but I’m telling myself I’m wrong.

What am I supposed to tell her? You don’t excite me like a practical stranger does, but I still proposed? I was sure about you, but now I’m not? They’re both true, but the second reason is more valid than the first. And it had nothing to do with Aubrey. When Jenna started buying Bride magazine, I started seeing things. Concerning things.

The wedding planning—that’s when the veil was lifted, so to speak, when I finally saw just how many expectations Jenna has for her life.

Table settings, centerpieces, beribboned chairs, they’re all just symptoms of the larger issue. This wedding is Jenna’s life, in one flawless day. She has everything planned out, right down to our children’s names. Nothing trendy, she told me. Classic. Elizabeth and David.

The name Claire shouldn’t bother her then. But everything else about Claire will tear Jenna up.

Because I’m flawless too. Jenna’s perfect surgeon fiancé.

Who has a lovechild from a one-hour stand five years ago.

Who eats ice cream from the carton in the middle of the night.

And, of course, there’s that other thing that makes me imperfect, my invisible scar… Jenna doesn’t know about that. Nobody outside my family does.

I shove another bite of ice cream in my mouth and toss the carton in the trash. Normally I would rinse the spoon and put it in the dishwasher and take out the trash—or at least bury the carton where she’d never find it. But not tonight.

In the morning I’m going to tell Jenna about Claire. She might as well know about the ice cream too.



“Hey, handsome.” Jenna’s honeyed voice filters down to me. “Why are you on the couch? Did you sleep here?”

My sleepy eyes open to see her face hovering above me. She has white-blond hair, and it’s long. For the wedding, she told me. After the wedding its chop chop. Those were her words, accompanied by a scissoring motion.

The bottom of her hair sweeps my shoulder as she brushes a kiss on my temple. Guilt parks itself in my core. I don’t know why I feel guilty. I didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe it’s just because I know what I’m about to tell her and how it’s going to affect her. Or maybe it’s the fact that I woke up several times last night, and each time I thought about Aubrey.

I sit up and Jenna moves away, giving me space to stand. Instead I stay seated, reach for my T-shirt, and pull it over my head.

“I guess I fell asleep here.” After I finished the ice cream last night, I sat on the couch to think. In truth, I was avoiding my bed, where Jenna lay peacefully, probably dreaming of invitations and exquisite floral arrangements.

Jenna smiles. “Sunday brunch? I haven’t eaten since I got on the plane last night.”

She travels for work, every week to a different city to visit different doctors. But she’s always here on Sundays, the one day of the week we spend together. Soon she’ll move her stuff in here, and this will be her home.

She’s dressed in workout clothes, but I know she hasn’t been to the gym. It’s her regular Sunday attire.

“Jenna, we need to talk about something that happened to me at work yesterday.” I look her in the eyes and wonder what her first words will be after she knows.

Confused wrinkles crease her forehead. “What happened?” She sinks down into a chair across from me.

“I was called to Mercy for an emergency surgery. A little girl.” Claire’s face comes to mind, her brown eyes so dark and deep. And those curls. I know where she got both of those things. The shock of seeing Aubrey made it harder to focus on Claire, and knowing I had to go into surgery kept me from delving any deeper. Questions darted around my brain, but I had to shut them down. My patient came first. And my daughter. One and the same.

“OK…” Jenna draws out the word.

I take a deep breath. “It turns out I know the mother. She’s a woman I spent one night with a long time ago.”

Jenna’s top lip curls. “I get you have a past. We all do, but spare me the dirty details.”

“Listen, please.” I squeeze the back of my neck, trying to relieve the tension. When it doesn't immediately help, I drop my hand and say “I did the surgery, but something was bothering me. Afterwards I took another look at the patient’s file.” I keep my eyes on Jenna, because she deserves that much. Her chest rises slowly, she holds her breath for a long time, then slowly releases it. I think she knows what I’m about to say.

“So?” she asks, her voice shaky.

“Her birthday is nine months after the night I spent with this woman. The little girl is my daughter.”

Jenna shakes her head vehemently. “It doesn’t have to mean that. It could be anybody. It doesn’t have to be yours.” Her breath draws in faster now, her chest heaving.

I despise what I’m doing to her. I’ve never seen Jenna anything less than poised. Her composure means everything to her.

“She’s mine, Jenna. I confirmed it.”

“How?” She bangs a fist onto her knee.

“Last night I went to see Aubrey.”

Jenna’s face pales. “The mother is Aubrey? Or the little girl? Where did you see her?”

“Aubrey is Claire’s mother.” I pause, letting Jenna have her reaction. She turns her head to the side like she wants to be sick.