A Natural Father (18 page)

Her heart slammed against her chest as she recognized Andrew’s voice, lowered to a whisper.

“Rosie, are you in here?”

She sat up. She could see his tall body silhouetted in the doorway to the house.

“I’m here,” she whispered back.

“Thank God. The bed was empty and I was worried…”

She stared into the darkness.

“You were worried?”

Hope flared inside her. Andrew had come home in the middle of the night and he’d been worried when he hadn’t found her in their bed.

Maybe he wasn’t angry with her anymore. Maybe he was ready to talk.

She started to get off the couch but he was already moving toward her. She settled for pulling her knees in tight to her chest as he sat beside her.

“I was worried,” he confirmed.

She could see his face now her eyes were adjusting to the dark. He looked tired and concerned, just like he’d said.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, shaking her head. She didn’t deserve his consideration.

His eyes searched her face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left last night. I should have stayed and let you explain—”

She leaned forward and pressed her fingers to his lips.

“No! Don’t apologize to me. I
lied
to you, Andrew. I was a chickenshit and I lied to you and I hurt you. Don’t you dare let me off the hook.”

“Rosie,” he said, but again she pressed her fingers to his lips.

“No. No,” she said.

His hand came up to pull her fingers away from his mouth.

“You always were stubborn. And tough on yourself.”

She swallowed a lump of emotion as he wove his fingers with hers. His hand felt so big and strong and precious. So familiar.

“Do you mind if I finish what I was saying?” he asked.

She just stared at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His thumb swept across the back of her hand. “I was sitting in my hotel room, feeling hard done by, going over and over it all again. How pissed I was at you for lying to me. How stupid I felt. How I couldn’t believe you’d do this to me. I mean, you never lie, Rosie. You’re one of the most honest, forthright people I know. You can’t even fib on a survey. I’ve seen it eat you up. And then it hit me. I realized how absolutely terrified you must have been to take those pills and not tell me. What it would have taken for you to get to that point.”

She started to cry as he lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“I’ve been pushing for us to have a family for so long, and you’ve been doing everything you can to push back. And I ignored it, because I didn’t want to think about it, because I figured it was just cold feet or worry about money or worry about the practice. I didn’t give you many options, did I?”

She sniffed inelegantly and wiped her face on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “I could have talked to you. Like any sane, normal person would have. I could have told my husband how I was feeling.”

“I know. And the fact that you didn’t is what kills me the most, Rosie. Because it means you were so scared you couldn’t, and I hate that more than anything. I hate the idea of you being so messed up about something that you couldn’t even share it with me.”

He shifted his head and she saw shiny streaks on his face. He was crying. It was the final straw. Even though she didn’t deserve his comfort or his understanding, she threw herself into his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered as his arms came around her.

“So am I.”

They held each other so tight it hurt. She didn’t ever want to let go. Andrew kissed her temple, her cheek, her nose, her mouth. She kissed the tears on his face, rubbed her cheek against the stubble of his beard.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I love you, too. Let’s never do this again,” he said.

She hiccupped out a laugh and he pulled her into his lap. She sniffed back fresh tears and made an effort to pull herself together. Andrew had come to the party, and it was time for her to step up, too.

“I’m going to go see someone,” she said. “Lucy knows a counselor. I think maybe I have some things to work out.”

She could almost hear him thinking, processing what she was saying.

“Is this something you want to do alone or together?” he asked.

She squeezed him tighter and pressed her face into the angle of his neck.

“Together and alone, maybe. Depending on how screwed up I am.”

“You’re one of the most together people I know,” he said.

“At the moment, that’s not saying much.”

He tilted her chin up with his finger and kissed her fiercely.

“Whatever it takes,” he said.

She stared into his face, so beloved and precious to her.

“Yes. Whatever it takes,” she said.

They both blinked as the overhead light flicked on. Lucy stood in the doorway to her bedroom, squinting against the brightness of the light.

“Andrew. Thank God. I thought it was either thieves or Rosie was talking in her sleep,” she said.

The concerned look left her face as she took in the way they were sitting.

“Anyway. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry. As you were.”

“Thanks, Luce,” Rosie said. She hoped her sister understood the world of gratitude the single word represented.

Lucy waved a dismissive hand, then flicked off the light and retreated to her bedroom.

“Is there room on this couch for two,” Andrew asked, “or should we go back to the house?”

It was a no-brainer. “The house.”

She wanted to be in her own bed, with her husband beside her.

She felt his thighs flex beneath her, then he stood with her in his arms. She grabbed at his shoulders.

“Andrew! God, you’ll kill yourself,” she said.

“Do you mind? I’m having a moment here,” he said.

He was smiling foolishly, and she couldn’t help laughing. Somehow he managed to get the door to the house open without dropping her, although he did knock her feet against the door frame a few times.

“Sorry,” he said.

She rested her head on his shoulder as he made his way through the darkened house. He set her down gently on the mattress and she fell silent as he knelt in front of her.

They stared at each other. Rosie’s chest ached with gratitude and love.

“Whatever it takes,” he said again.

“Always.”

“Dom,” she called as she approached.

His head came up, and his gaze searched for her in the crowded market. He frowned as he caught sight of her, but by the time she was by his side his expression was unreadable.

“Rosie’s okay?” he asked.

“Andrew came home last night. Or this morning. It was dark, that’s all I know. They’re talking and sleeping in the same bed, so I figure they’re well on their way.”

“You didn’t need to come in, though. You must be tired,” he said.

“No more than usual. Besides, I wanted to see you.”

She stepped closer to greet him properly, but he tensed and all her doubts from last night crashed down on her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

She expected him to give a quick and easy affirmative, maybe tell her that he’d just had an argument with his father or a problem with a customer. Anything to explain away his reaction.

But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze shifted over her shoulder for a few seconds, then he shrugged.

“This probably isn’t the best place to talk,” he said.

He took her by the elbow and started to lead her toward the coffee shop. She jerked her arm free.

“What’s going on, Dom?” she asked, fear squeezing her diaphragm.

“Come on.” He gestured for her to keep walking, but she dug her heels in.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

He sighed heavily. Then he slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders.

“I’m not sure this is going to work out,” he said.

For a moment she thought she had to have heard wrong. She blinked.

“You don’t think this is going to work out,” she repeated. “What exactly does that mean?”

“The other night was great, but I think you’re looking for something that I can’t give you.”

Again she shook her head. This was the man who had touched her so reverently, so passionately the other night that he’d made her feel beautiful and shiny and new all over again. This was the man who had moved heaven and earth to help her save her business. This was the man who had held her hand when she’d been afraid her baby was going to die.

This was the man she’d trusted enough to love.

And he was telling her…what?

“What exactly is it that you think I want that you can’t give me?” she asked carefully.

Maybe this was all a misunderstanding. Maybe she was reading this all wrong.

“I think you want a husband. A father for your baby. More children. And I can’t give you any of that.”

His voice was flat. Distant. She stared at his face, trying to understand what was going on. How did a person go from so much intensity, so much connection, to this…emptiness? In the space of twenty-four hours?

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

For the first time he met her eyes.

“It’s true. Believe me,” he said.

“What about the other night? The things that you said. That you wanted more than one night. That you cared for me.”

His eyes traveled over her face.

“I meant them at the time.”

She gasped. He might as well have slapped her.

“Look, Lucy, I’m sorry. But I didn’t realize how intense things were going to get so quickly. I’m fresh out of a divorce. I don’t know if I’m up for so much so soon.”

She shook her head.

“No. You’re the one who wanted this,” she said. “You’re the one who told me your feelings wouldn’t change. You told me I could trust you. You pursued me.” She stared at him, at his distant eyes and his tight, unreadable face. “You made me fall in love with you.”

He had the good grace to look away then.

“I’m sorry.”

He was sorry.

It didn’t even come close. Didn’t even touch the sides of the pain and hurt opening inside her.

She looked around, trying to find the words or the actions or something, some way of responding to the colossal hurt he’d just inflicted on her. She felt hoodwinked, swindled, cheated. For weeks he’d wooed her, and she’d held him at arm’s length because she was afraid, because Marcus had taught her not to trust. And finally she’d taken the leap of faith—and Dom had pulled the rug out from beneath her.

“Listen. I never meant to hurt you. Believe me, that’s the last thing I wanted,” he said.

“Too late,” she said.

She turned on her heel and started walking. After a few feet she stopped and retraced her steps.

“Give me the keys to the van,” she said.

He frowned. “I’ll do the deliveries today.”

“Give me the keys to the van.”

“You can’t do the deliveries on your own, Lucy.”

“Give me the freaking keys!” she yelled.

People stopped to stare. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr. Bianco start to move toward them.

“What about the baby?” Dom asked.

She wanted to punch him in the face. Mash his nose, split his lips, pummel him until the rage bubbling up inside her was gone.

“I’ll worry about my baby. Give me the keys,” she demanded.

“What is going on? Is there problem?” Mr. Bianco asked as he came up beside them.

Lucy didn’t take her eyes off Dom. After a long moment he pulled the keys from his pocket and handed them over. Her hand closed around them. They were warm from his body and her hand curled into a fist, squeezing the keys tightly.

“You’re an asshole,” she said to Dom. She threw the keys to the Mercedes at his feet.

More than anything she wanted to walk away and never see him or hear from him again. But she didn’t have that luxury. She had a business to run, and his father was her key supplier. Worse, Dom was her business partner.

She turned to Mr. Bianco. There would be time to work out how to disentangle her life from Dom’s later.

“Can you help me fill my order for the day, Mr. Bianco?” she asked.

Tony darted a glance at his son before nodding.

“Of course, of course, Lucia. No problem.”

She didn’t look at Dom as she turned away. She didn’t so much as glance his way as Mr. Bianco helped her load her trolley over the next fifteen minutes. And she kept her head down as she pushed her load back to the van.

Only when she was alone in the privacy of her van did she sit down on a stack of empty crates and let herself howl. Hands clutched to her belly, she rocked back and forth as all her shock and disappointment and hurt streamed down her face. She cried till she was gasping for air and her chest ached.

It had been so hard for her to trust him. But she had. And he’d thrown her trust back in her face, along with her love.

I can’t give you what you want.

“Oh God,” she said.

How could something so new hurt so much?

Soon, she knew, she would be angry, and that would be a good thing. But right now, she was devastated and she didn’t know where to put herself.

A rapid fluttering inside her belly drew her mind back into her body. Her baby was kicking in agitation, clearly distressed by her distress.

She took a deep breath and let it out on a shudder. She needed to get a grip. She had orders to deliver. More importantly, she had her daughter to consider.

There would be plenty of time to brood over her stupidity and gullibility later. All the time in the world.

She wiped her eyes on a wrinkled tissue she found in her pocket, then pushed herself to her feet.

She didn’t have the luxury of falling down and staying down. For the rest of her life, she would have to get up and keep fighting on her own. Because there was another life completely reliant on her ability to continually get up and keep fighting.

She set her jaw grimly. She might as well get used to it now, because she would never make the mistake of trusting someone else to fight alongside her again.