He tried the finger steeple, but found he couldn’t keep his fists from balling. “If I can’t be with Andrea, why shouldn’t I be with someone who is fond of me? What else do I have? You’re leaving me, Andrea left me, I just want someone to be with me!” He was shocked at his own petulant tone and words, but his long-suffering housekeeper actually smiled.

“Just because you can’t be with the person you want to be with doesn’t mean you should take away the opportunity for someone else to find true love.” Ellen’s tone was softer now, reminding him of long years past when his grandmother would correct him on a temper tantrum or similar ill behavior.

The familiarity of her delivery caused him to really listen. To really consider her words.

“I should break up with Jane.” It had been his original plan. Now he didn’t trust any of his plans.

Ellen nodded. “You’re being reactionary. And you shouldn’t date anyone again until you’re over Andrea.”

“She goes by Andy, actually.” Saying her name in any form caused him more heartache than he wanted to admit. Particularly the one he knew was closest to her heart—the heart he’d thought so earnestly belonged to him. “And I’m not sure that I’ll ever be over her.”

“Then you’ll be spending the rest of your life single.” She stood and brushed down the skirt of her apron. “Either that or you could try to win the girl.”

He laughed sharply. “Funny thing is that I thought I had won the girl. Turned out I was wrong.”

There was no future for him with Andy, but Ellen was right about Jane. He’d thought that he was a catch because he had money and stability. But what about her? Didn’t she deserve honesty? Fuck, Andrea had warned him about this. If he couldn’t have her, he could accept living the rest of his life in a loveless relationship, but Jane hadn’t been given that option. He had to rethink his decision to continue seeing her.

“I’ll call things off with Jane.” He could still break up with her tonight at Menton. A breakup over a nice candlelit dinner? It was probably a more gentlemanly send-off. He winced at the idea that Andrea would likely be proud. You didn’t order for her, did you? Her voice was already in his head, telling him how to proceed.

“I think you’ve made the right decision.” Ellen patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “And will you give it a go with Andrea? I mean, Andy?”

His eyes flew to Ellen’s. “I didn’t say that.” He didn’t have it in him to explain that Andy had left him. She was gone from his life entirely. There was nothing to give a go.

Ellen tsked. “Your generation gives up so easily. Dinner for one tomorrow then?”

After tonight, every night for the rest of my life. I’m done. “Dinner for one.”

Chapter Twenty

Menton’s service was as to be expected—perfect, unobtrusive, and worth the price. The Chef’s Tasting Course option took most of the decisions out of the ordering process. Even the wine was paired for them. If Blake were in a different state of mind, it would have been a very lovely evening. More than once during the evening’s progression he wondered if he should have taken Jane to a less fancy location. If they’d gone to Uni, they’d have finished an hour ago, and he’d already be home with an old Dashiell Hammett novel. Wallowing. He wanted to wallow.

Notes for his next relationship-ending date, he thought. Though there wouldn’t be any of those in his future if he stuck to his new plan of permanent solitude.

Blake waited until Jane had pushed away her Foie Gras de Canard before he prepared to deliver his news. His announcement would likely spoil the rest of dinner, and the meal was one price for all seven courses, so he wanted to get the most out of his dollar. Really, he’d meant to hold off until dessert had been served, but by the time he’d finished his own main course, he was too anxious to get the evening over with.

Just as he was about to speak, though, the waiter arrived.

“The check please,” Blake said before the man could persuade them to indulge in another course. “We’ll take dessert with us.”

“You’d like me to box up the crème brûlée?” The waiter sounded horrified.

“I would,” Blake answered with a straight face, but inwardly he grimaced at the thought of crème brûlée to go. What a faux pas.

The server groaned in disgust. “Yes, sir.” And went on his way.

The moment they were alone again, Blake dove in. “Jane, I have something I need to say.” He paused for her attention. Then, realizing she might take his statement as a more celebratory preamble, he rushed through the rest of his speech. “I’ve led you on. While I at one time believed that you had everything that I wanted in a woman, I’ve known for quite some time now that I can never have feelings for you. At the risk of sounding cliché, it’s truly me, not you.”

Jane took a sip of her wine, her expression showing no turmoil, no devastation, no sign of impending tears.

He must not have been clear.

“Perhaps I should say this another way—I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” That was too passive. “We shouldn’t see each other anymore. Jane, I’m breaking up with you.”

Again, no response.

This was becoming frustrating. He tried to hide the irritation as he prodded her for acknowledgment. “You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

She set her glass down before meeting his eyes. “I understand you perfectly, Blake.”

Her eyes, he noted, were still perfectly clear. Maybe she wasn’t going to be upset after all. That was somewhat disappointing to his ego though much more convenient since they were in public. A woman in tears on a date always put her companion in poor light.

Jane continued with stoicism. “You should know that I’m not surprised. I’m well aware that we lack the chemistry that is usually expected from a couple that is courting. I also don’t have feelings for you. However, I don’t think that’s any reason we should call it quits. In fact, now that we’ve both admitted the truth of our emotions, or lack thereof, we can potentially take our relationship to the next level.”

Blake’s brow fell into confusion. “I’m not sure I’m following you.” That was embarrassing. After all he’d done to prepare himself for this breakup he was the one that had been caught off guard.

Jane dabbed at her mouth with her linen napkin then folded it precisely into quarters before returning it to her lap. He liked that about her—her attention to minute detail. She really was very much his ideal woman. Or what he’d once thought was his ideal woman. Drea had chosen well for his would-be wife. The level of knowledge she had about him would be violating if it weren’t so comforting. He shut that thought down before his brain could wrap around the contrast.

Jane leaned forward in her seat. “I’m saying, Blake, that I don’t believe love is a requirement in marriage. I’d even go so far as to say that love should not be included at all. It can be a distraction in a successful union.”

“That’s ridiculous. Love is practically synonymous with marriage.” Blake heard himself saying the words, wondering where in the hell they’d come from. He’d never thought much about love in romantic terms. He’d simply always assumed that once he found the right woman, it would follow. Yet another instance where he’d been wrong.

Jane placed laced her fingers together, careful to keep her elbows off the table. “Think of matrimony as a business contract—isn’t it much easier to work with someone that you don’t have strong feelings for? Sure, you want to get along—and you and I get along well enough—but anything deeper than that, your dealings become complicated and all sense of logic and judgment flies out the window.”

Blake couldn’t help nodding. He’d learned that lesson in the early days of his career. Going into business with friends never worked out well. Someone always got emotional, someone always lost money …