Page 12 of All I've Waited For

Why didsheseem uncomfortable? That didn’t make any sense at all. Neither did the tension—almost angry in nature—that had rolled off of her in waves last Sunday at the Baker family dinner. If anyone should be out of sorts, it’d be him. He was the one who had loved her, after all. The one who had asked her on a date. The one who had been stood up for said date.

But he was fine. Cool as a cucumber and all that. Love was just an illusion, temporary, fleeting. He had much bigger things to worry about.

Derek considered how to phrase what he felt for Claire, but at that moment, her phone rang. She glanced at it and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” He snuck a peek at the phone, where Claire’s aunt’s face flashed on the screen.

“I don’t know.” She answered the call. “Salut, Tante.Quoi de neuf?” Then she stood and headed for the front of the showroom.

He’d picked up a lot of French while living overseas, but when two French people got to speaking, it was usually way too fast for him to interpret. Being as he was only hearing half of the conversation, it was nearly impossible.

“I hope everything’s okay.” Ashley’s voice revealed her genuine concern. She played with her pen, clicking the end in and out in rapid succession. Her and that adorable nervous habit.

Without thinking, he reached across the table and stilled her hand.

Her eyes shot to his, igniting a connection he’d thought broken a long time ago—the one he’d read way too much into once before. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Derek removed his hand and settled it back onto his side of the table. The silence between them swayed and bulged until it reached epic proportions.

As Claire’s voice rose and fell, she paced the front of the room. He should go check on her, but something kept him rooted to his seat.

Claire hung up the phone and walked back, one hand on her forehead. “I have some troubling news.”

“What’s wrong?” He stood.

“Grand-père has fallen and broken his hip.” Though she didn’t shed a tear, her chin trembled a bit. She’d already watched the beginnings of dementia take hold in him the last few years, so this had to be a rough blow to think of him in physical pain too. “He will be all right, but needs me to come home right away to help run the vineyard during his recovery.”

“Of course you should go.” He pulled her into a hug. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

A deep breath shuddered through her. “Me too. Thankfully, his break is not terrible. My aunt said that despite being in his seventies, he is in good health and there’s a chance recovery from surgery could be as little as four to six weeks.” Claire pulled back to look up at him. “Of course I will be sad if he can’t be here for the wedding, but I want to proceed with our plans.”

“If you think that’s best.” Though how she was going to plan a long-distance wedding while working full time, he had no clue. But if anyone could do it, Claire Boivin could.

“I do.” Stepping out of his arms, she pivoted toward the table, grabbed the binder, and pressed it into Derek’s grasp. “And I will need you to work with Ashley in my stead.”

Across the table, Ashley visibly stiffened.

The binder might as well have been a twenty-pound weight in his hands. “Come again?”

Claire patted his arm. “You can do this. All the details are here, but if there’s anything you want to change, I give you permission to do so. And Ashley will help with those things I have not yet thought of.”

“What? No. This isn’t … I need to help my dad with the vineyard while I’m here.” And there was no way he could be around Ashley that much. Claire provided a nice buffer, but without her, he couldn’t even imagine the awkwardness.

She tugged him away from Ashley’s listening ears. “Derek,” Claire said in a low voice. “I know that is important, but if you want to marry me and join our companies, help our families right now, we need to plan a spectacular wedding. No expenses spared. Otherwise, Grand-père will suspect the reasons we are marrying so soon and might deny my help.”

In other words, he’d refuse to give up the reins of his company, even to his own detriment. Claire had confided in Derek about how the long hours, the pressure of caring for the vineyard that had been in their family for centuries, had worsened Marcel Boivin’s mental state. And while some might suspect Claire’s motives, Derek knew her only true desire was to take the weight from her grandfather’s shoulders, to give him the stress-free retirement he deserved.

If only Marcel wasn’t so old-fashioned as to think Claire needed a man to help her “handle the business.” But his stipulations had always been clear, and even with his encroaching dementia—which he was far too proud to admit to—he’d never consent to their marriage if he thought Claire planned to divorce after a year or two.

That wasn’t their plan, of course. Much as he might not believe in lasting love, Derek had every intention of honoring his marriage vows.

He scrubbed a hand across his face. “You can count on me.”

Claire placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. “And that is why I’m prepared to tie my life to yours. You are the most trustworthy man I know. I am confident you will not fail us.”

Derek’s chest may not swell with love at Claire’s words, but they filled him with some sort of peace all the same.

Until his eyes swung toward Ashley, who wrote something on her clipboard. The light from the sun setting outside the window framed her, making her hair glow like some ethereal being.

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