Chapter Thirteen
Ever since leaving the Harvard Club and his two nauseatingly happy former schoolmates, Fitz couldn’t stop thinking about missed opportunities. When he’d listened to Luke and Jackson expound on their marriages, Fitz had thought he understood the source of their happiness.
Yet he hadn’t, not fully, not until he’d stood in the doorway of this overstuffed, messy room and watched Gigi read to three little girls. He’d seen a mother with her children. He’d seen the future he might have had, had he acted sooner. Had he been smarter.
Gigi could have been his wife already, if only he’d been less mechanical in his pursuit of her.
Now, it was too late.
He inhaled sharply. She did the same, the movement reminding him he still had a hold on her waist. He released her and stepped back.
An unexpected bout of longing captured him, longing for a home and a family of his own, for a comfortable, settled life with a good woman by his side. With this woman by his side, their children gathered around her while she read.
The sensation came fast and hard, digging deep. For a painful moment, the loneliness in his soul spilled into his heart.
One of the children moved in next to her. “Can we sing our song for the prince?”
He heard a soft, throaty laugh before Gigi glanced at him with a question in her eyes.
Fitz nodded.
While Gigi lined up the children, small to smallest, the storm brewing in him calmed. His senses were still unnaturally heightened, though, and he became aware of giggles from the young, girlish voices.
The sound of family.
A sense of inevitability pushed him forward. Toward Gigi. He had one coherent thought: her.
She’s the one.
He shoved the disturbing notion aside before it could take root. Even if, by the grace of God, Gigi fell for him and miraculously agreed to marry him, Fitz cared for her too much to condemn her to an uncertain future in his home. Not one of the specialists he’d consulted could give him a guarantee that he wouldn’t become ill like his father. If he knew for certain, then perhaps, maybe—possibly—Fitz would consider pursuing Gigi in earnest.
As matters stood, his time to woo her had come and gone. He’d failed miserably to win her heart, treating her like another business transaction rather than a woman with genuine hopes and dreams. No wonder she’d found Dixon’s attention so appealing. She’d probably felt neglected, or perhaps Fitz had simply bored her and that had been enough to send her into another man’s arms.
Even now at the thought of the resulting tragedy, anger and guilt burned deep, not at Gigi, but at himself and the man who’d ruined her. Fitz’s breath came in quick, hard snatches.
He’d waited too long to fetch her.
Why hadn’t he searched harder?
He knew, of course. Pride.
“All right, girls, you know what to do.” Gigi took her place at the piano and began to play a favorite hymn from his childhood.
“Jesus loves me—this I know.”
Fitz stood frozen, struck immobile by the familiar melody wafting over him. Then he noticed the laughter. It was high-pitched and full of pure childish joy. He’d never really understood that sound.
Until now.
For a moment, he simply allowed the music to wash over him.
Hopes and dreams flooded into him, the kind he’d suppressed for a full year, ever since Gigi had run off with another man.
“For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong . . .”
Sensation after sensation seemed to come at Fitz at an alarming rate these days. Most of his fondest memories of Gigi were of her playing a piano. Her father had invited him to his home nearly three times a week, often more, under the guise of discussing business. But Harcourt Wentworth had had another agenda in mind.
Fitz had been smitten long before Gigi’s father had pushed for the match. Gigi had been young, fresh and beautiful, talented, and the most confounding woman he’d ever met. And she’d played the piano with flair, indicating a passionate nature that should have warned him that winning her heart wouldn’t be easy.
The attraction had not been one-sided, no matter what Gigi claimed. Their one kiss was a blur in his memory, however, replaced with their more recent meetings, when suspicions and accusations had stolen their smiles. His inability to open up hadn’t helped his cause, though he was only just beginning to realize that.
Ironic that he found himself wanting to share his secrets with Gigi now that he couldn’t.
Standing on the edge of this overcrowded room, listening to the sounds of children singing while she played the piano, Fitz realized something else. He’d missed her.
He wanted to be a part of the joy. He prayed the memories of his failure, or at least the worst of them, would stay away so he could simply enjoy this moment with Gigi and these precious, innocent little girls.
“They are weak, but He is strong.”
Bracing himself, Fitz swallowed past a lump in his throat.
Not wanting to interrupt just yet, he held perfectly still, listening. He’d forgotten that Gigi could sing as well as she played the piano. He remembered standing in the pew behind her on Sunday mornings. Her sweet, melodic tone had been made for singing church hymns.
He mouthed the words along with them. “Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me.”
The smallest of the little girls was pretty shaky on the verses, but she had the refrain down pat. Her sweet baby voice rose to a near shout as she sang, “The Bible tells me so!”
The music stopped, only to be replaced by clapping. “Oh, well done,” Gigi declared.
She alternated between kissing each little head and praising their singing. A portion of a long-forgotten verse from Isaiah came to Fitz’s mind: The redeemed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing.
Fitz would see her restored to her family. Nothing would stop him, not even the stubborn woman herself.
Gigi lifted her head, and their gazes met. Her eyes shone with emotion, and then . . .
She smiled. At him.
Fitz lost the ability to breathe. He felt himself suffocating until he managed to drag in a quick pull of air.
He’d once thought this woman beautiful when her hair was perfectly coiffed and she was clothed in fashionable attire. But Gigi had never been more appealing than in this moment. The sight of that ridiculous mobcap resting at an awkward angle atop her head and the long, poorly dyed strands of hair escaping to curl around her cheek was the most mesmerizing he’d ever seen.
As he continued staring into Gigi’s pretty eyes, he felt a sudden sense of release. For that single moment, he was free. Free of his burdens and thoughts of what might have been.
Gigi smiled down at the children. “We’ve been inside entirely too long. Who wants to go to the roof garden and get some fresh air?”
All three chimed in at once. “Me!”
Gigi laughed.
The smallest of the little girls ran to Fitz and took his hand. “Will you come with us, Prince? Say yes.”
He hesitated, not sure he wanted to extend this torture.
“Please? Oh, please, will you?”
How was he supposed to refuse such an ardent request? He bent over to speak to the child eye to eye. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The child twirled away in a series of dizzying spins. “Prince is coming with us.”
“Perhaps Prince”—Gigi shot Fitz a wry look—“would be so kind as to help you into your coat.”
“Prince would be delighted.”
He caught Gigi’s smile before she turned to assist the other little girls into their coats.
As they wound their way through the darkened auditorium and up the carpeted stairs to the roof garden, Fitz’s chest felt odd. His pulse quickened in his veins. His throat tightened. All because this woman, whom he’d known most his life, had morphed into a stranger. One who fascinated him beyond reason.
The transformation had nothing to do with the clothes she wore, or the change in her hair color, and everything to do with the woman herself.
No longer proud and defiant, she was softer, kinder, and more Gigi than Georgina Wentworth had ever been.
Had her experience with Dixon changed her so completely?
Or was the transformation something that had occurred in Fitz?
He took Fern’s hand and guided her through the doorway. Gigi escorted the other two children. The wind had died down since Fitz had left the Harvard Club, but the air still had a bite to it. The sky was a hard, brittle blue, the fat orange sun halfway toward the western horizon.
The children didn’t seem to mind the cold. They hurried off to play a game of hide-and-go-seek. He and Gigi watched the game in companionable silence. The moment was strangely easy, almost tender. Fitz decided to keep silent in hopes of extending the glorious experience.
Fern rushed up to Gigi. “Did you see where they went?”
Gigi laughed, the sound almost musical. “You know I can’t tell you. You have to find them on your own.”
Undeterred by the gentle scolding, the child came to stand directly in front of Fitz. “What about you, Prince?” She planted her hands firmly on her hips in a display of profound little-girl frustration. “Did you see where they went?”
He shook his head.
“But you’re the handsome Prince. You’re supposed to know everything.”
Charmed by the little girl, he nearly told her what she wanted to know. But he caught Gigi shaking her head at him.
“I’ll give you a hint.”
Ignoring Gigi’s impatient snort, he leaned over and met the child at eye level. “They’re hiding somewhere on the roof.”
Fern stared at him for several long moments, then grinned. “You’re funny, Prince.”
A second later, she ran off to search for her friends.
“You have an admirer, Prince.” Gigi angled her body toward his. “Imagine I said that last part without sarcasm.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re being very kind to the girls.”
“They’re adorable and sweet and think I’m a handsome prince. I don’t know any man who wouldn’t find himself charmed.”
“There are some.” She sounded sad and beaten.
Just how badly had Dixon treated her?
A protective instinct shuddered through Fitz, and one thought rose above the others warring in his mind. I want to fight Gigi’s battles.
It was too late to protect her from Dixon. The damage had been done. But it wasn’t too late to secure a better future for her. An odd sensation filled Fitz’s chest, something good and noble. But he was no prince. And he certainly couldn’t ride in on a white steed and save Gigi from her dragons. You have reasons for keeping your distance, he reminded himself.
Ignoring the silent warning, he moved closer, a mere inch, no more.
The wind kicked up, tugging a tendril of her hair free from its knot. Fitz reached up and tucked the strand behind her ear.
She drew in a shaky breath.
The world paused, and then . . .
Squeals and shrieks of happiness filled the air as Fern found the first of her two friends. Still, Fitz stared at Gigi. Her beauty was stronger, purer in the bold sunlight.
Her eyes, those amazing silver-blue eyes, stole his breath. She stole his breath. She always would, Fitz realized with a sudden jolt.
Alarmed at the direction of his thoughts, Fitz knew he needed to gain some perspective. It would help if he could look away from her startling face.
He continued holding her gaze.
Her very presence soothed him. She made the weight of his burdens seem . . . somehow . . . less.
Something wonderful and lasting was gathering in his heart, something life altering. He wanted—needed—to pull Gigi into his arms. He wanted to tell her his plan to restore her to her family. But not here. Not now.
“Will you allow me to escort you home, once the children’s mothers come for them and your time is once again your own?”
He spoke the question with perfect politeness. Where had the fun Prince gone? Lost, Fitz decided, in this woman’s gaze.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We don’t have anything more to say—”
“I have something new I wish to discuss.”
“We can talk here.”
“It requires privacy.”
Puzzlement sprang into her gaze, followed by a healthy dose of suspicion. “What are you up to now?”
“Nothing nefarious, I promise.” He nearly reached for her hand but thought better of it. “I have an idea for a business venture I’d like to run by you.”
“You wish to consult me on a . . . business matter?”
Coming out of her mouth, it did sound odd. “You’ll understand once I explain the essential elements of my plan.”
He had her. He saw her capitulation in the way she leaned slightly forward.
“Let me walk you home,” he said.
“I suppose if we headed out in the same direction around the same time, it would be quite natural to speak to one another.”
He grinned. “Quite natural.”
“Prince!” A hard yank on his pant leg accompanied the new nickname. “Prince, you are not listening to me.”
Duly chastised, he looked down at the little girl attempting to gain his attention. Fern’s face was scrunched into an adorable scowl. Affection enveloped him at the sweet picture she made.
“I apologize.” He crouched down to her height. “I’m listening now.”
“You and Miss Sally have to take a turn.”
Not sure what the child meant, Fitz angled his head.
The little girl shook her head at him, as if he was a big, dumb man who needed female guidance. “Miss Sally has to hide from you. And you”—she poked him in the center of his chest—“have to go seek her.”
No, Fitz thought, Gigi would not hide from him. Never again.
Never.
Again.
Up to the point of sending Fern and the other two girls back into their mothers’ care, Gigi had successfully put Fitz’s request to walk her home out of her mind.
She had not thought of it when she’d “hidden” from him on the roof garden.
She had not thought of it when he’d “found” her behind a large potted plant.
She definitely hadn’t thought about it when he’d leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek, and took a moment to whisper, “I’ve found you.”
Fitz had given her a very fierce look, silently daring her to try—just try—to get away from him.
The world had swung away then, everything suddenly out of focus.
Caught completely off guard by his ferocity—when was Fitz ever that passionate about anything outside a boardroom?—Gigi had been unable to tear her gaze from his. She’d been unable to move at all. She’d been overwhelmed and short of breath, and her heart had pounded as though she’d been running very hard for a very, very long time.
But now that she was back in her makeshift nursery, she couldn’t think of anything else but Fitz and their upcoming walk.
The man himself soon arrived. Gigi fought to steady her heartbeat. But . . . oh, my.
There he stood, in all his handsome, prince-like glory, hat literally in hand, overcoat slung over his arm, shoulder propped against the doorjamb. He didn’t look boring or unemotional or bland. He looked a little dangerous, and so different from Christopher Fitzpatrick the financier. Gigi didn’t know what to do with him. Except a part of her knew exactly what to do with this man.
She soaked up the sight of him, drank in every glorious inch of his tall, lean, muscular body.
He gave her a long appraising look in return.
Gigi’s mind raced back to the roof garden, to the moment when his lips had pressed against her cheek.
Her heart stumbled. She tried to remain cool and unaffected under his bold scrutiny. She really, really tried. But the lump in her throat was as big as a baseball, and her heart pounded out an erratic staccato against her ribs.
“Ready to go home?”
Fitz’s tone, though quiet, carried an unmistakable hint of intimacy. His words held far more meaning than anyone listening would realize. Ready to go home? Yes. Yes, she wanted to go home. With him. She wanted to leave right now.
She couldn’t, of course, not yet.
“I’m nearly ready. I just have to tidy up a bit.”
And yet, she remained frozen to the spot.
Why did this new Fitz affect her so?
She knew why. Of course she knew.
The way he carried himself—calm, relaxed, full of confidence mixed with a hint of stoicism. And loneliness. The loneliness was what called to her.
A wry chuckle tumbled out of him. “So, we’re back to awkward pauses and staring.”
She laughed. “Apparently, it’s what we do in each other’s company these days.”
“So it would seem.”
Smiling broadly—oh, what a smile—he pushed away from the door and paced toward her.
Her mouth went dry as dust. She couldn’t seem to move her feet. Why couldn’t she move? Not more than a few days ago, Gigi and Fitz had hovered in a similar life-altering moment. She hadn’t been ready for a change in their relationship then. Was she now?
A series of flutters took flight in her stomach. Yet in a nice, calm, rational voice she said, “I’ll only be a moment.”
Oh, look at her. So cool, so in control, a woman who knew her own mind. It was quite the act. Esmeralda would approve of her performance.
“Let me help.” When she started to argue, he insisted, “We’ll get the job done in half the time.”
Efficient. The man was efficient to a fault.
They tackled the task in silence. Oddly attuned to one another, they moved in flawless harmony, as if they could read each other’s next move.
Gigi told herself it didn’t matter that they worked so well together. But it did matter. Their effortless camaraderie made her think of the future, of happy endings and princes rescuing damsels in distress.
There was no use denying the truth any longer. Gigi still wanted the fairy tale, and it was all because of Fitz.
Once they were outside the theater and heading in the direction of Esmeralda’s town house, Gigi risked a glance in the man’s direction. Her thoughts scrambled, circling one another like a cast of hawks swooping in for the same prey. She longed for so much, unable to define exactly what she wanted. The man strolling beside her was at the heart of the shocking sensation.
He wanted her advice. He wasn’t here to tell her what to do or how to do it.
“You wished to run a business concern by me?”
“I’m seriously thinking about purchasing the theater.”
His confession surprised her. “I can’t imagine why.”
He lifted his face to the sky. “It’s a small, risky venture, I admit. But sometimes those end up the most profitable.”
Somehow, Gigi doubted making a profit was behind his decision. Something else was driving him. As she waited for him to continue, the grind of wagon wheels rang in the distance. A baby wailed. A dog barked. A vendor shouted out about his wares.
“Do you hear that?” she asked when he continued to stare up at the sky.
Fitz cut a glance in her direction. “Hear what?”
“The sounds of the city.” She swept her hand in a wide arc. “It’s almost musical how each mingles with the other.”
He slowed his pace and then stopped altogether. He looked down at her. The man had quite a piercing stare. “There she is.”
“Who?”
“The woman with the heart of a composer and the romantic ideals of a poet.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“On the contrary. I find the way you see the world charming.” Eyes filled with quiet affection, he reached out and brought her hand to his lips.
The gesture was so unexpected, so sweet and gentle that Gigi’s stomach dipped. She sighed, wanting this moment to last forever.
“It’s one of the things I admire most about you,” he said, continuing to cradle her hand in his.
Fitz admired her?
Gigi couldn’t ask for more. Wouldn’t ask for more than this one perfect moment with a man who admired her. Fitz admired her. Gigi didn’t quite know how to respond.
She thought of her love of music, of poetry, of the Psalms, especially the ones penned by King David, and how she’d felt closest to the Lord when lost in the arts. Nathanial had stolen that from her. He’d wrecked her appreciation for what she’d once loved. She could no longer enjoy Shakespeare’s sonnets, any of Byron’s work or Emily Dickinson’s, and that was . . .
Her own fault.
Nathanial hadn’t stolen anything from Gigi that she hadn’t willingly handed over.
The woman Fitz admired was in the past. An innocent. Gigi wasn’t that person anymore. Letting herself forget that point, even for a second, was a mistake.
Nonetheless, whereas Nathanial had only taken, Fitz had given her something back.
“Thank you, Fitz. Thank you for reminding me of a part of my former self I’d nearly let die.”
Tenderness moved in his gaze. “You’re welcome.”
They resumed walking.
Gigi slipped a covert glance at him from beneath her lowered lashes. Fitz’s strong profile brought complicated emotions blazing to the surface. She forgot to wear her hard-earned outward control. Something had to be terribly wrong, because she wasn’t supposed to feel this comfortable.
This connected.
She’d lost her balance. All because Fitz had reminded her of the woman she’d once been.
What is this? What’s happening between us?
Gigi had to get back on even footing with this man. She searched her brain for something to say. “Tell me why you want to buy the Summer Garden.”
Still holding her hand, he guided her down an unfamiliar lane. The path led to a small public park. Fitz directed her toward a thicket of evergreens. The ring of trees shut out the rest of the world.
As Fitz led her to the secluded area, their feet left indentations in the wet, muddy ground.
He stopped beneath a leafy pine tree with several low-hanging branches. He let go of her hand, reached up and plucked a stem free. His gaze turned dark and turbulent as he twirled the twig in his gloved palm.
“You do realize, Fitz, that you have the look.”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “What look?”
“Whenever something is troubling you, a groove shows up right . . . there.” She pointed to a spot in the middle of his forehead. “It’s been a quirk of yours since we were children.”
A strangled laugh rumbled out of his chest. “You always did know me better than I knew myself.”
A mild glumness took hold of her. Gigi didn’t know Fitz, not nearly as well as she wished.
“Let’s sit. Over there.” She gestured to the bench on the edge of the isolated copse.
For an endless moment, he stared down at her. He stood frozen for so long that Gigi thought he might turn down her offer and stalk off.
But then, in one furious burst of motion, he threw down the twig and headed toward the bench. She had to break into a trot to keep up with him. Much to her relief, he slowed and then sat. With his gloved hand, he patted the empty space beside him.
She sat as well, falling into a companionable silence as they both stared up at the sky. Thick clouds had moved in since their time on the roof with the children, turning the sky a dingy gray. The afternoon air was scented with a hint of pine and snow.
Gigi treasured brisk walks in the city. Her favorite time of year was when fat, languid flakes of snow tumbled from the sky. Sometimes, when she was feeling especially comfortable in her new life, she loved the blanketed anonymity, loved living in a city where no one knew her as Gigi Wentworth.
“Do you really wish to purchase the theater?”
“Yes, no. Yes.” He shrugged. “Possibly.”
“That’s incredibly unclear.”
“I can’t stop thinking about the children. Or, more accurately”—he reached up and caught a wisp of Gigi’s hair, wound it around his finger, then let it go—“about their mothers and the situation they have found themselves in, with no one to watch their daughters on a regular basis.”
Gigi laid a hand on his arm, looked into his eyes. “It’s only been a few days, a very busy few days at that, what with opening night less than a week away. It’s no wonder they haven’t found a more permanent solution.”
“I was speaking of the larger problem.”
Gigi removed her hand.
“They are raising their little girls alone, without the benefit of a husband or help from family.” His turbulent gaze held hers. “That could have been you. You could have found yourself—”
He broke off abruptly, the lines of worry around his eyes cutting deeper.
Was he silently judging her? How could he not? She judged herself nearly every second of every day.
“Tell me something, Gigi. What if matters had turned out differently? What would you have done if he’d left you with child?”
The question was one she’d asked herself a thousand times since Nathanial had run off. The back of her throat stung with disgrace. Her eyes filled with tears—hot and instant and unwelcome.
“I would have survived.” She looked down at her gloved hands. “Like Jessica and the other women at the theater, I would have considered the baby a blessing.”
“Your strength awes me.”
The respect in his voice had her lifting her head. She’d never seen Fitz look at her like that. It wasn’t just respect she saw staring back at her, but something deeper, something a woman could build a life on if she dared to believe again.
A strong pulse of blood rushed in her veins. She desperately wanted to be worthy of that look. Of him.
His head came down over hers, stopping when their lips nearly touched. “Push me away, Gigi.”
How could she when he treated her with such kindness, such understanding and caring? Things she thought never to experience from a man again. She was too weak to push him away, and far too desperate for this moment to be real. Her only answer was to slip her hands up his chest, across his shoulders, around his neck, and then . . .
His mouth moved over hers carefully, courteously, until he found the perfect angle.
She sighed against him.
The sound must have brought him to his senses, because he jerked away from her. “I apologize. I took advantage of the moment.”
He had, yes. His spontaneity had been glorious and wonderful and so out of character for Fitz that Gigi could only smile. For the first time in eleven months, she felt worthy of a man’s attention.
His shocked gaze moved to her lips. He seemed to be waging an internal battle with himself. “It won’t happen again.”
“Of course not.”
“It can’t.”
“No.”
They were back in each other’s arms, their lips pressed tightly together, hearts pounding in a wild, shared rhythm.
Gigi tasted home. It was an illusion. A woman like her could never regain what she’d lost. But for this one moment, she allowed herself to believe her future could be more than a lonely existence with a cat as her only companion.
All too soon, Fitz pulled his head away. A shaken breath escaped him. Or was that her?
Doing her best not to do something ridiculously stupid, like climbing on his lap, Gigi laughed. It was either that or cry. She forced herself to speak calmly. “You were saying something about the children at the theater?”
He blinked. “Right. The children. But first”—he blinked again—“we should probably address what just happened.”
Please, Lord, anything but that. “Nothing happened.”
“We kissed. Twice.”
Leave it to Fitz to make the situation a thousand times more awkward. He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him back. And for the life of her, Gigi couldn’t figure out why either of them had done it. “We don’t even like each other,” she whispered.
“Apparently, we do. Rather a lot.”
Hearing the amusement in his voice, Gigi whipped her gaze to his. The words of censure died on her lips. Fitz’s smile was full of tender affection. He used to look at her like that when they’d been friends. Much had changed since then, too much to hope that a few kisses could bridge the divide that stood between them.
Gigi let another sigh move through her, let it flow from her lips this time in a sad, pathetic whoosh. “I don’t want to talk about this, Fitz. Not right now.”
“Yes, Gigi. Now.”
She drew in several fast breaths. “Stop making such a big deal out of this.” She shoved at the stubborn tendril of hair that kept falling over her left eye. “It was just a stupid kiss.”
“We both know it was more than that.”
“All right, two kisses.”
“Talk to me, Gigi.” Taking her hand, he cupped it affectionately in his, pulled it to his chest. “Tell me what’s on your mind. I want to know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, Fitz.” She lowered her head, stared at their joined hands. “I’m not avoiding a difficult conversation”—precisely—“I simply need time to figure out”—how things got so quickly out of hand—“where we go from here.”
“I’d like to think we could become friends again.”
“I’d like to think that, too.” She squeezed his hand, feeling as though they might actually be able to forge a real friendship. “Can we please leave it at that?”
He stared at her for several long seconds. He opened his mouth. Shut it again. Then, finally, he let go of her hand. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is. Yes. Thank you.” Giving him no time to change his mind, she returned to their previous topic of discussion. “If I recall, we were speaking about the situation with the children at the theater.”
A beat passed, then another. Eyes never leaving her face, he shook his head, then said, “It seems unfair that their mothers, all of them so young, have to constantly worry about their care. I can only imagine the strain of carrying that daily burden.”
He spoke of burdens and strain as if he had intimate experience with both. Gigi wondered again what secrets Fitz harbored.
“At least they have a solution for now.”
“It’s temporary, at best.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “They need a more permanent situation.”
“You mean . . . at the theater?”
He nodded. “Something similar to what you’re providing now, but with a woman in charge who would stay indefinitely in the position.”
The intensity of his words highlighted his concern, one that Gigi shared. “If you purchased the theater, you could set something like that up.”
Fitz nodded again, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t release. If anything, they bunched tighter. “Suppose I put my idea in motion—would you be willing to offer me some thoughts on the matter?”
Gigi stared into his eyes and saw the man beneath the stern, overly polite exterior. She saw the man who’d kissed her, the one capable of great feeling, with a hatred for injustice, a heart for forgiveness, and the capacity to care for children that weren’t his own.
In that moment, she fell a little in love with him. “I would be honored.”