Claire watched in horror as her friend burst into tears. She gently wound her arm around one of Esperanza’s shoulders and pulled her inside as the woman continued to sob.

“Who is it?” Tristan came around the corner and into the foyer where Espie bawled her eyes out. “What happened?”

Claire shrugged as she led her friend to the couch. “I don’t know. She just said that Devin was a skunk and started crying.”

Espie hiccupped loudly and sniffed as fresh tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “I should never speaked English.”

Tristan caught Claire’s gaze over the top of Esperanza’s dark head. He looked as confused as Claire felt.

“Esperanza,” Claire started gently and in a soft voice. “Do you want to talk about this?”

Espie shook her head, even as the words began. The story of Esperanza’s pregnancy, and Devin’s candid revelation flowed out punctuated by sobs, hiccups, and many more tears.

Claire would have liked to believe that she was shocked, maybe even surprised by Devin’s behavior, but she wasn’t—not in the least. Devin had been a playboy, a ladies’ man and a gambler his whole life, there was no reason to believe that a forced marriage was going to change that. But even as rotten as he had acted, he did deserve one courtesy.

“Have you talked to him since you decided to leave?” Claire asked.

Espie shook her head again.

“You need to call him and let—”

“No,” the dark haired woman exclaimed. “I want not to talk at him.”

“Espie,” Tristan started, but her dark eyes seemed to burn a hole right through him. He took a couple of steps backward and collapsed into a nearby chair, mouth closed, advice apparently forgotten.

“Then let me call him,” Claire suggested.

“Tomorrow,” Esperanza agreed. “Let me be tonight. I call him tomorrow.”

“All right. You’ll have to let me know where you’re staying.”

Esperanza turned those dark, liquid eyes to Claire. “I want to be staying with you.” She shot Claire a watery smile.

“Espie, I—” She couldn’t finish, couldn’t ignore the well of tears in Esperanza’s dark eyes. “Of course you can. It’ll be just like old times.”

Sort of.

Luckily, Tristan had prepared enough of his celebration dinner to feed Espie and her growing appetite. Claire was concerned about having Esperanza as her new houseguest, given her current houseguest and the limited space in her tiny duplex. Yet she was glad that Esperanza had decided to leave Devin. Espie deserved better than to be married to a man who only wed her for his inheritance.

The thought shot a pang through her belly. It was true that Tristan only married her so that he could get his inheritance as well, but at least she had known what was going on from the beginning. Poor Espie had been so in love with Devin that it had been written all over her pretty face. Now Espie was going to have his baby, all alone.

After their meal the trio settled down in the living room to watch television. It didn’t take long for the effects of a stressful day and a pregnancy to take their toll on Esperanza. Before the first half-hour sit-com was over, she was nodding off.

“Espie.” Claire stood and gently nudged the poor woman awake. “Are you ready to go to bed?”

She nodded sleepily and stretched out on the couch, taking up the space where Claire had been. Almost immediately, she was asleep again.

Claire glanced to Tristan. “We can’t let her sleep there.”

“No,” Tristan said. “That’s my bed.”

“Be serious.” She lightly punched his arm.

He shot her a small frown and rubbed the spot. “I was serious.”

“She can’t sleep there because she’s pregnant.”

“Oh. Right,” Tristan said. “Where’s she going to sleep?”

Claire sighed. “She’ll have to sleep in my new bed.”

“Okay,” Tristan said after a moment’s thought. “Then where are you going to sleep?”

“I guess I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“All right.” Another pause. “Then where am I going to sleep?”

“I know I’m going to regret this,” Claire said. “But here goes: on the couch with me.”

Tristan raised an oh-really brow.

“It’s a sleeper-sofa. It pulls out into a bed,” she explained. “A lumpy bed, but a bed nonetheless.”

The look on Tristan’s face seemed to say, Why didn’t you tell me this before? But he knew the answer. She had been trying to make him uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that he would leave.

“You make the bed,” Claire instructed as she gently shook Esperanza awake. She helped the sleepy woman to her feet and guided her toward the bedroom. “The linens are in the hall closet,” Claire called over her shoulder. “I get the right side. And I expect you to keep to the left.”

Tristan lay next to Claire in the darkness of the living room and listened to the even rhythm of her breathing. Beside her in a bed, however lumpy, was just where he wanted to be, but Claire had made her wishes clear.

He had his suspicions that if he rolled over, snuggled in next to her, and maybe even kissed her that she would change her mind about him keeping to his side of the bed, but that wasn’t playing fair. He didn’t know why that should concern him now after thirty-five years of playing by his own rules, but it did. He wanted Claire to want him, to come to him and not be seduced. He wanted to make love to her, but he didn’t want her to regret that decision come the morning. He didn’t want to see doubts in those beautiful eyes of hers.

Think of something else. Thinking about her eyes and her taste would only make the night last longer and a long night on a lumpy mattress was the last thing he wanted. Lumpy was actually too kind of a word for the couch bed. Medieval torture device was more apt.

Claire sighed in her sleep, seemingly a bit restless herself.

Tristan smiled in the darkness. It appeared that he wasn’t the only one who was having trouble with the terrible bed. How generous it was of Claire to give up her brand new bed so that Espie could get a good night’s sleep. If nothing else, Claire was generous to a fault. It was just one of the many things he loved about her.

The realization washed over him like a gentle summer rain. He loved Claire. He loved his wife. He loved everything about her. He loved the way she carried Bruno around as if he were part of the national treasure. He loved the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was studying. He loved the way she bit her lip when she wasn’t sure what she should say next.

He loved her, and she was divorcing him.

The papers were in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. The jacket hung in Claire’s hall closet. He’d had the papers long enough to sign them a hundred times, but he hadn’t been able to do it. Perhaps he had been in love with Claire longer than he’d realized. Perhaps he hadn’t signed them all this time because he did love her.

Face it, buddy. You didn’t want to sign them then, you don’t want to sign them now.

No, he wanted a second chance with Claire. They had been getting along so well since he’d moved in with her. She had helped him in so many ways. He was a better person now, and he had her to thank.

Tristan didn’t want it to end.

It didn’t have to.

They could build a brand new life together right here in this very house. She could finish her degree and get a job locally, and he could cook her supper every night. Maybe they could even start a family.

The idea settled over him like a warm fuzzy blanket. A family. Yeah, that would be perfect. A family like the one he never had.

With a smile on his face, Tristan drifted off to sleep and dreamed of blond-haired baby girls with marvelous turquoise eyes.

“Devin,” Gladys’s voice buzzed through the lines of the intercom and into Devin’s office. “You have Charles from Accounting on line one. He says it’s urgent.”

“I bet it is,” Devin muttered to himself. Everything that had happened since Devin had taken over the company had been urgent. “Tell him I’m in a meeting.”

Gladys paused, and Devin could almost hear her take a reprimanding breath. “As you wish,” was all she said, but Devin caught her unmistakable undertone: You can’t run forever.

True, he couldn’t run forever, but he couldn’t face another problem. Not yet, not today.

He’d hardly slept a wink last night. He jumped at every little sound, hoping that it would be Esperanza coming home. If he wasn’t thinking about her, he was thinking about the baby. He’d tried countless times to envision himself holding an infant. First a boy and then a girl, but the images wouldn’t surface. Perhaps it was a sign.

If that were the case, then his whole life had been nothing but one big sign from God.

“Devin,” Gladys broke into his thoughts by way of the inner-office intercom. “Your wife’s on three.”

Devin fumbled the receiver, certain that he’d never heard sweeter words.

“Espie?” He breathed into the mouthpiece.

“Devin—”

It was her!

“Espie, I—” Devin let his words trail off. He had waited for this moment all night, and now that it was here, he had no idea what he needed to say. Never in his life had he ever been put in a position to ask a woman to come back to him. In his playboy days, women were like buses: once one was gone another would be around shortly.

“Devin, jou leesten to me. I not coming home.”

“But—”

“I stay with Claire. She is my friend.”

“But—”

“This is my baby.”

“But—”

“I take care of thees criança myself. I don’t need jou.”

“But—” Devin started, then realized that Esperanza was actually going to give him a turn to speak. All of his earlier fury and worry and upset over Esperanza’s leaving surfaced, accompanied by the frustration of his aunt’s crazy will and the end of the playboy era of his life. “I don’t need you either!” Who was that yelling into the phone? “I have it all under control. I’m friggin’ Superman!” He slammed down the receiver, his breathing ragged.

He didn’t need her. He didn’t need any woman.

Oh sure, he and Espie had a great time, but he was Devin McFarland. He could have any woman he wanted. He didn’t need a wife and he for sure didn’t need a baby. If she wanted to raise the child without him, more power to her.

“Devin,” Gladys interrupted once again. “Dan Masters is on line two. Should I have him call back?”

“No,” Devin said. “I’ll take it.”

He sat back in his uncle’s chair and took a deep breath. Then it hit him. Without Esperanza, he lost it all. All thirty-six point three billion dollars. No more mahogany desk, no more problems at McFarland.

He picked up the receiver, a grim smile on his face.

Six days later, Devin was no longer smiling. Masters had been in a generous mood and had given Devin a week to get out of the mansion before he put it on the market.

Devin was glad that he didn’t have to worry about McFarland anymore, the Board had grown too rigid, and he didn’t want to be a part of a company that could not change with the times. And he was glad that he didn’t have to stay married any longer. Marriage was for the birds or at the very least someone else. Someone who didn’t have better things to do. And he did.

Lots of them.

He just couldn’t think of any right now.

He wished Esperanza the best in whatever she did, but a piece of him was a little annoyed that she didn’t stick it out with him. Or at least try a little harder. But this way was for the best. He was on his own again, just the way he liked it. He didn’t have to worry about what time he got home. He didn’t have to interpret Espie’s butchered English, he didn’t have to stare at her pretty face across the dinner table. Yessiree, just the way he liked it.

Except for having to move. The thought of selling the house didn’t set well with Devin. It wasn’t that it was a sign of his failure, but a piece of his childhood that he was losing.

He and Tristan had lived in that big brick mausoleum for most of their lives. When their parents had died, the two boys moved in with their father’s brother. Their aunt and uncle had welcomed them with open arms, treating them no differently than they would have their own children, had they had any.

Devin looked out of the downstairs office to the foyer where his bags were already packed. Like he had anywhere he could go. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

His thoughts flashed back to the holidays of his childhood. The twenty foot tree decorated by the household staff. Expensive presents purchased by the household staff, and Christmas cookies prepared by the household staff.

He supposed it wasn’t all that bad. He and Tristan had had a roof over their heads and everything that money could buy. Everything but their parents. Christmas after Christmas that’s all Devin had wished for: his mom and dad back. Especially his father. There had been something special about Edward McFarland, something inanely legendary. To this very day Devin missed him, terribly.

On days like today, he couldn’t help but wonder what his life would have been like had his parents survived the boating accident. As the younger son of Baron McFarland, Edward wouldn’t have inherited the family fortune. He would have been left with a comfortable sum, a house in the suburbs, a dog—a real dog—and family Christmas like they had on TV. Lopsided trees and homemade ornaments, the works.

Suddenly his mind’s eye could see an olive skinned child with his green eyes crawling across the office floor. A son. His son.

Devin shook his head, sharp tears welling in his eyes at the vivid image.

“No son of mine is going to grow up without a father,” he vowed.

His mind made up, Devin grabbed his coat off the banister and headed out the door. He’d get Espie back one way or another. His son deserved it.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status