Chana smiled at that, an impish grin that said she’d had a lifetime of loving a smitten man. “Roman is a good man. Rough around the edges, perhaps, and sometimes brusque with his words, but his heart is gentle.”
There was so much kindness in her voice. A familiarity on par with how Evie and Cassie spoke about him. “How do you know him?”
“From my synagogue. He works with our rabbi and the leaders of other synagogues and churches throughout New Orleans to mentor boys in foster homes or orphanages.”
“Ah.” Bonnie nodded. “Yes, he told me about that.”
A tender expression crept into place. “Aryeh and I never had children. We wanted to, but were not able. Roman knew this and came to us when Raymond needed a foster home. I cannot be more grateful. Raymond is older—driving on his own now—but he has been a blessing. Soon, he will officially be our son.”
His heart is gentle.
Her gut said Chana’s observation was spot on, but warned of more that she didn’t know. Of a darkness she’d only glimpsed thus far.
“Please,” Chana said, cutting into her thoughts and holding out the cuff for her. “Try it on.”
Time seemed to slip away, the mix of Bonnie’s jangled thoughts and the emotions from the last twenty-four hours gratefully taking refuge in the raw appreciation of such beautiful craftsmanship. Maybe it was fifteen minutes. Maybe it was closer to an hour. But eventually, Roman appeared and strolled her direction, Aryeh following close behind.
“Did she find anything she likes?” Roman said to Chana.
Chana dipped her head but her smile was still obvious. “That would be for Bonnie to answer, would it not?” She peeked at Bonnie and winked, but her words were for Roman. “I noticed your fiancée has no ring, though. Perhaps we should schedule a time for you to return so that we can help you rectify that matter.”
“Oh, no.” Bonnie waved one hand and stepped between Roman and the jewelry case like she might have some prayer of keeping him from whipping out the credit card again. “I’m nowhere near ready for a ring. Or a wedding.” She looked up to Roman and cocked an eyebrow. “But I am due for food if you’re done with your business.”
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue just for the fun of it, but schooled his expression just as quickly and nodded. “Of course, moya koroleva.” He stepped back just enough to let her pass and waved her toward the door. “Let us go and get you lunch.”
They said their goodbyes and Roman helped her into the truck.
She made it all of three seconds after he buckled himself in before she exploded. “Fiancée? Please tell me you were joking.”
Rather than put the gearshift in reverse as she’d expected, he twisted in his seat and faced her. “Marriage is not a subject for humor.”
“No. It’s not. But you led those people on.”
“I did not.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“Admitting the truth.”
The statement dropped between them like a cinder block. No punches pulled. No sarcasm behind it. Just words delivered as absolute fact. She had no clue what to say. What to think, even less.
Though, it didn’t really matter, because Roman kept going. “Finding a woman like you is rare. You do not pretend to be someone you aren’t. You are natural. Open. Transparent and vibrant. I value everything about you. My family does as well. I may be short on words, but I have much wisdom. All of it earned through pain. I will not ignore the truth when I find the woman meant for me.”
“Roman, you barely know me. I barely know you. And let’s not forget the business you’re in. For crying out loud, I’ve seen you take two men out with your bare hands. I might be an open-minded girl willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, but even I need time to process what’s what in this situation.”
“It does not matter. I know enough. Have lived on instinct since the day I drew my first breath. I know what I want when I see it and I want you. Only you. I will not rush you, but neither will I stop. Not until you are mine.”
He was serious. Absolutely one-hundred percent serious. And while most of her insides had gone all warm molasses on her when he’d outlined all the things he liked about her, logic was using her brain for a speed bag.
Roman let the quiet settle between them, then drew in a slow breath. “As for me, my past is every bit as ugly as you think it is. Formed by deeds most would condemn me for. But if you want to know who I am—where I’ve been and what my future entails—I will not hide it from you. The real question is—are you brave enough to know me and find the same acceptance?”
Chapter Fifteen
His woman was quiet. Frighteningly so. And for the life of him, Roman couldn’t decide if her lack of conversation was a result of his blunt assertion that he had every intent to marry her, or that he’d thrown the gauntlet of his past between them and sent her curious mind down dark and twisted alleys he’d have been better to avoid.
Biting back a frustrated grunt, he turned onto Bienville Street and focused on finding a parking space near their destination. No easy task when his mind kept recalling the genuine shock and disbelief on her face when the word fiancée had entered the conversation. And that dazed confusion in her expression when he’d confessed all the reasons he wanted her for his bride—that soft and bewildered wonderment—it broke his heart. How could she not see all the things he saw so plainly? Not own and value her worth as he did? Worse, how could the people in her life have failed so miserably in showing her all that she had to offer?
Maybe the plans he’d made for them today were a mistake. Too much, too fast in his campaign to win her. Perhaps he’d have been wiser to focus on her self-confidence and self-worth first.
Ahead, a Lexus sedan pulled free of a parallel spot just outside their destination. Well, wrong approach or not, he was forging ahead. His instincts had never steered him wrong, and if Bonnie needed regular demonstrations of just how valuable and worthy she was, he was going to give them to her. Even if they were a bit over-the-top.
He took the opening the sedan had created and parked.
Bonnie craned her head upward and studied the multi-storied colonial building outside her passenger window. The brick was traditional red and the trim around the many soaring windows with their curved transoms a crisp white. The thick double doors that served as the primary entrance were painted black to match the wrought iron balconies overhead, framed by two authentic gas lanterns that undoubtedly had been around much longer than electricity. A dark placard hung beside the double doors; in gold script it read L’Arpège. By the time Bonnie spoke, her voice was thick with hesitation and dread. “Please tell me this isn’t where we’re going for lunch.”