“It is him!” the woman in her early sixties confirmed, nodding to her husband by her side. “So nice to see you.”
She stretched her hand out to him and Paul shook it automatically while he tried to match her face to a name. It took only a split second to place her. “Mrs. Pierpont. Mr. Pierpont. I didn’t think you’d be able to make it. I heard you were spending the week with the Willamotts.”
Mrs. Pierpont made a dismissive gesture. “I would never miss an event Nora is organizing, particularly not such an important anniversary party. Besides, I wanted to see how Tara is getting on.” She graced him with a conspiratorial wink.
Paul wanted to groan, but suppressed the urge. Tara’s mother was as bad as his own when it came to interfering in other people’s lives. “Tara is fine. Why don’t you ask her yourself? I think I saw her in the dining room.”
He hadn’t seen Tara, though he knew she was around. She’d been a trooper, going along with most of his mother’s suggestions, while trying not to infringe on his and Holly’s privacy, and finding excuses whenever Paul’s mother wanted to foist her onto them when they were planning to be alone. He would make good on his promise to try to connect Tara with the right people so that she could find a job she enjoyed.
“So what have you two been up to the last few days?” Mr. Pierpont asked while he took a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray.
“Oh, this and that.”
Good-naturedly, Mrs. Pierpont slapped her husband’s forearm. “Darling! You shouldn’t ask things like that. You know how the young ones are when they’re just starting to date. They don’t want us to know all the details.”
Paul nearly choked on his own saliva. “I’m not—”
“Anyway,” Mrs. Pierpont interrupted. “I’m glad you two are getting on.”
Paul looked past her, searching for something to say, when Holly appeared in the double doors leading to the terrace, glancing around.
“Would you excuse me, please?” He motioned to where Holly stood. “My girlfriend just arrived. I’d better get her a drink.”
Mrs. Pierpont’s face fell. “Girlfriend?”
But Paul didn’t wait and squeezed past her. A moment later, he reached Holly. “Hey, Holly.”
Her face lit up. “There are so many people here. Why didn’t you tell me there’d be so many? I don’t know anybody.”
Paul pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Daniel and Sabrina should be here already. They’re always punctual. And I believe all the members of the Eternal Bachelors Club are around too.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, that club! Sabrina told me all about it.”
“Nothing wrong with a bunch of guys competing to see who can stay a bachelor the longest.”
“Men!”
“How about a glass of champagne?” he asked.
“Uh, no thanks, not right now. I’d love some water though.”
“Water?” he asked, instantly reminded of what Mirabelle had told him. “But we’re celebrating today. Did you give up alcohol?”
Holly fidgeted, adjusting the straps of her figure-hugging dress. “No, of course not. I’m just really thirsty right now.”
She was making excuses again. Maybe now was as good a time as any to confront her with his suspicions. He wasn’t sure he could continue to pretend that nothing was bothering him.
Paul took Holly by the elbow and ushered her to a quiet corner of the terrace, glancing around as he did so.
“Is something wrong?” Holly asked.
“I was gonna ask you the same.”
She furrowed her forehead.
“You don’t drink alcohol, when I know you enjoy a good glass of wine. You get sick in the morning and blame it on the food the night before.”
With every word, Holly’s smile faded.
“You didn’t want to stay on Zach’s boat, not because Sabrina was sick, but because you were feeling queasy.” He paused, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. “Are you pregnant?”
The widening of her eyes and dropping of her chin told him everything he needed to know.
“That’s ridiculous,” she claimed.
“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” He stared daggers at her.
Holly sucked in a breath and thrust up her chin. “It’s none of your business whether I’m pregnant or not. It doesn’t affect our arrangement.”
“The hell it doesn’t!”
She fisted her hands at her waist. “No it doesn’t. So get off my case. Nobody is going to know about it. By the time I show, I’ll be gone.”