The café too was almost empty, the OPEN sign no longer lit, all of the tables with their red-and-white cloths cleaned, the salt and pepper shakers arranged around a glass-encased candle and small poinsettia, even the ever-present Christmas music no longer playing. A grandmother and child were finishing up cocoa and cookies at the only occupied table. As she attempted to get him into his jacket, he struggled against her, declaring firmly, “I do it!” But they were soon out the door, the lone waitress swooping in to pick up the tab and clear the table.

The kitchen was closing, the last busboy sweeping up.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” James said after pulling out a chair for her at a table in one corner.

“Me too,” she said, but had no idea what he was talking about.

“I overreacted,” he said, and he was so damned sober as he sat across from her. Whatever had happened between Sophia and him was serious. Julia was starting to get a very bad feeling about what was coming.

The waitress started toward them, but he held up a hand, and she stopped in her tracks.

“Well, that happens,” Julia said, trying to imagine what he was talking about.

“No, it wasn’t good. It’s just that you surprised me, coming into my room when I wasn’t expecting it and then hitting me with that bombshell.”

What bombshell? “I know,” she said, but she didn’t, and her heart was beginning to beat in dread. What the hell was he talking about?

His eyes found hers. “The truth is . . . ,” he said, and she felt her pulse pound in her temples. “It’s just that I’ve never even thought about being a father before. We never talked about it, and . . . it’s just not been in my wheelhouse.”

Wait! What? He was going to be a father? That’s why he was upset with Sophia? Oh, holy Mother of God! Sophia was pregnant? No! This couldn’t be happening. No, no, no! Julia felt the blood drain from her face. She forced her expression to remain frozen, to stop the shock from registering on her face.

“I’ve been an ass,” he was saying, sadness touching the corners of his eyes. “I should never have said you couldn’t work here, and—” He shoved a hand through his short hair. For a heart-stopping second, she thought he was going to propose to her, to do the right thing, to claim the baby that Sophia had told him she was carrying. Her throat went dry, and she felt the room spin, the floor beneath their table begin to buckle. “Hey—are you all right?” he asked suddenly, and she thought fast.