The door opened. Tasha hoped it was Andre, or maybe Camille. She couldn’t bear to face the barrage of questions from anyone else right now.
Camille’s soft voice said, “It’s me.” She stuck her head in the room. “Can I come in? Are you sleeping?” Her voice had risen with the last inquiry.
“No, just resting.” Tasha shrugged and shook her head. “Jet lag.” She waved Camille in. “You know how that is.”
Camille entered, shut the door behind her and hurried across the room. She bounced onto Tasha’s bed and the girls hugged.
Tasha moved over, giving Camille more room. “I love your hair.” Tasha checked out Camille’s new do, touching the ends of her blonde hair with her palm. The multi-layered ringlets bounced against Tasha’s hand. “I can’t believe how long it’s gotten.”
“I wasn’t too sure about it at first.” She shrugged. “I’m getting used to it now, though.” A wide smile spread across Camille’s face. “I’m so glad you’re here. For good.”
“Knowing you were here made it a lot easier to come, I’ll tell you that.” Tasha laughed, trying to disguise the fear that wouldn’t go away. “Maurice is a scary idea for a father-in-law.”
Both women laughed. Camille shook her head. “But he likes you.”
“He likes you too.”
“Now.” Camille added such emphasis to the word that Tasha couldn’t help noting its importance. “At least he won’t be throwing a better-suited, prospective bride at Andre.”
“It’s too late anyway.” Tasha smiled. “Andre and I got married before we left the States. The wedding here in France, for the family, takes place at the end of next week.”
“A wise decision.” Camille nodded. “Although not quite as necessary as it was for me.”
“Better safe than sorry, right?” Amusement played on the edge of Tasha’s voice.
Camille looked at Tasha for a long while before saying anything else. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You seem a little out of sorts.”
“That obvious, huh?” Tasha sucked in a deep breath.
“What’s going on?”
“Does no one, not even you, wonder why Andre and I, all of a sudden, decided to get married?”
“We married a couple of brothers who aren’t used to doing things the conventional way,” Camille said with a shrug.
“I’m pregnant.”
Camille’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
Tasha nodded.
“How far along are you?”
“A few weeks. A couple of months or so.”
“Wow.” Camille giggled like a schoolgirl.
“It’s not that funny.” Tasha’s voice grew serious. “I can hear it now. The big question for the next seven months will be…is it really Andre’s baby?”
“No.” Camille shook her head. “The big question will be…whose baby will be born first.”
Another baby? Someone else in the family was having a baby? Certainly not Claudette. Hopefully not Lecie. Camille? Hope sprouted on the edge of Tasha’s heart. “You’re pregnant?”
Camille nodded.
Tasha glanced at Camille’s tummy. Flat. She couldn’t be much farther along than Tasha.
“I’m due in early April,” Camille said.
“Me, too.” Tasha sat up in the bed and hugged Camille. “Congratulations.”
Camille hugged her back. “Right back at you.” She looked at Tasha. “But please don’t tell Andre. Julian wants to tell the family, tonight, at dinner.”
“I won’t say a word if you don’t,” Tasha bargained.
Camille nodded. “We’ll let our respective husbands have that pleasure.”
Andre hadn’t deluded himself that there wouldn’t be times when he’d feel guilty about hiding the terms of the will from Tasha. Especially times like this, when she reached for his hand as they were about to enter the dining room, where he knew she felt she’d face a barrage of questions from the family.
Telling Tasha the truth—that everyone wanted them to wed—would’ve rested her fears. But that could’ve led to a whole new set of problems, problems far worse than the temporary ones she faced now. Problems that could build a wedge between them that’d last forever.
Besides, Tasha’s doubts would disappear once she saw how excited everyone was about her joining the family. Better to let it play out this way. The alternative—telling her about the will requiring him to marry—would only add stress upon her that would linger, and linger, and linger. And that couldn’t be good for the baby.
Crossing the room’s threshold, Andre released Tasha’s hand and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her protectively close. Of course, there was nothing to protect her from—except the details of Edouard Renault’s will.
Claudette and Lecie were the first to their feet. Both women hovered around the couple. Each greeted Tasha with a friendly hug. Soon all three women were hugging and laughing, and Tasha looked like she was actually relaxing a little.
“Come sit by me.” Camille patted the empty chair to her left.
“Of course, she’ll sit by you.” Claudette led Tasha around the table and deposited her in the seat next to Camille.
Andre slid Tasha’s chair in, then sat in the empty one to her left. Settling in, he cut his eyes stealthily toward Papa, who was grinning. Andre suspected that Papa’s smile had a little something to do with him. After all, Andre had managed to secure this multi-billion dollar fortune—as long as he could hold on to his wife for the next three hundred and sixty-four days.
“Tasha…” Maurice spoke. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear that you’re my new daughter-in-law.”
“Thank you, Maurice,” she said with a gentle smile. “I couldn’t have asked for a more loving family to marry into.”
That statement had more generosity than truth to it. But Andre knew that he, Julian and Lecie would—thanks, in part, to Claudette—break the cycle of hands off love that’d been handed down from generation to generation in the de Laurent family.
Once the staff brought in hot lentil soup, a wave of calm swooped down over Andre. Proper etiquette, which was always observed at Pacifique de Lumière, would steer the family toward eating and the conversation to nothing more than polite chit chat. That is, until after the main course. That’s when the mood relaxed around the table and if anyone had any announcements, then and only then was the time for disclosure.