A Natural Father (19 page)

Or maybe that was because he was on the verge of tears.

Damn.

Michael was walking past and Dom shoved the calculator at him.

“Could you take care of this order? I’ve got to do something,” he said.

He didn’t wait for other man to reply, just took off.

He barely made it into the darkness of the cold storage before his emotions overtook him. He swore out loud in English and Italian, then kicked an empty orange crate so hard it skidded along the ground and shattered against the far wall.

It wasn’t fair.

But life wasn’t fair, and he’d done the right thing.

Now he simply had to live with the consequences.

Lucy hating him. The mess of their business partnership. His own guilt and pain. The knowledge that he’d hurt her.

“Goddamn,” he said, his voice deadened in the metal-lined space.

He sat on a crate and dropped his head into his hands. He pressed his fingers into his eyes and tried to get a grip. Long moments passed where there was nothing but the sound of his own harsh breathing. Then light streamed in as the door opened.

He shied away and tried to wipe his eyes on the tail of his shirt.

“Dom, you here?” his father called.

“I won’t be a moment, Pa. Tell me what you need and I’ll bring it back to the stand,” he said.

He kept his back turned, praying his father would take the hint and leave him alone.

Dom heard the heavy tread of his father’s footsteps before his warm hand landed on Dom’s shoulder.

“Dominic. Talk to me,” his father said quietly. “What has you so upset? And why is Lucia so upset? What is happening?”

“It’s not important. We’ll sort it out,” Dom said.

He kept his back turned.

“My son,” his father said heavily, “when did you stop trusting your papa?”

Dom sighed. After a long pause he half turned toward his father.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Pa. There’s just nothing you can do about it. Nothing anyone can do.”

His father dug into the pocket on his apron and pulled out a handkerchief.

“Here.”

Dom took it and blew his nose, feeling about nine years old. He was pretty sure that was the last time his father had caught him crying. At least that time Dom had had a broken leg as an excuse.

Wood creaked as his father sat on one of the crates.

“You love Lucia?” he asked. He made it sound so commonplace, so matter of fact, Dom almost laughed.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I thought so. Your mama not so sure, but me, I see.”

Great. His whole family probably knew about it by now—sisters, cousins, relatives back in Italy.

“Lucia does not love you, this is the problem?” his father continued.

“She loves me,” he said heavily.

“Ah. You worry about bambino? That you not the father?”

“I don’t care. It’s Lucy’s baby. That’s all that matters to me.”

He could practically hear his father considering and discarding other options. Dom ran his hand through his hair.

He’d been meaning to tell his father about his infertility for a long time. And it wasn’t as though this day could possibly suck any harder.

“I can’t have children, Pa,” he said. To his everlasting shame, his voice cracked on the final word and he had to blink back fresh tears. “That’s why Dani and I broke up. Remember I had mumps when I was twenty? It doesn’t happen very often, but sometimes it can make men infertile. I got lucky.”

His father was silent for a long moment.

“No bambinos?”

“No. Never. Dani and I tried everything. But it was no good.”

“This is why you divorce?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother will be very sad for you. This is hard thing.”

“Tell me about it.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from this moment—Recriminations? Guilt? Shame?—but his father’s quiet sympathy in the dark was unexpected.

They were both silent for a while.

“And this is why Lucia and you fight?” his father asked eventually.

“Lucy doesn’t know.”

“So why for you fight?” his father asked, bafflement rich in his tone.

“She wants brothers and sisters for her baby, a family. I can’t give her any of that. So I ended things between us.”

“I see. You ended things so Lucia could have what she wants?”

“Yeah.”

His father exhaled heavily, then pushed himself to his feet.

“I am very sorry for you, my son.”

For the first time in years, Dom found himself drawn into the all-encompassing embrace of his father. Tony Bianco’s big arms squeezed him tight, his hands patting Dom’s back comfortingly. Dom breathed in his father’s hair pomade and the smell of his mother’s laundry detergent.

“This is big sadness for you to carry. I am very sorry,” his father said again.

Dom hugged his father back.

“I am very sorry for you, but I think you make big mistake,” his father continued.

Here we go.

Dom let his arms drop to his sides. “Pa—”

“Lucia is not Dani,” his father said over him. “Lucia is Lucia. You not give her the chance to make her own decision.”

Dom shook his head. “She shouldn’t have to make a decision. She should have what she wants—brothers and sisters for her daughter.”

“You sound like one of your mother’s saints, making the big sacrifice.” His father mimed someone hanging on a cross.

Dom shrugged uncomfortably. He hadn’t meant to come off as a martyr. “I just want her to be happy.”

His father nodded as though he was agreeing with Dom. “And you are scared,” Tony said.

“I’m not scared. What have I got to be scared of?”

His father tucked his hands into the waistband of his apron. “What if you tell Lucia no bambinos and she says no matter? What if she says she loves you and one bambino is enough? Then she changes her mind and what happened with Dani happens with Lucia, all over again?”

“What am I supposed to say to that?” Dom said.

“That it is true. That it might happen. That you are afraid.”

His father held Dom’s eye, waiting.

“I can’t give her what she wants,” Dom said. “What’s the point in starting something that will only hurt her more in the end?”

“This is Lucia’s decision to make, not yours.”

Dom looked away from his father’s knowing eyes.

“You know I right, Dominic.”

Dom shook his head. What his father was asking was too much. He refused to set himself up for disaster again. He’d done the right thing. For both of them.

To his surprise, his father stepped forward and patted his cheek, just as he used to when Dom was a very small boy.

“You will work out. You smart boy,” his father said. “I want you to know, I very proud Saturday night. The party, the people, all the fancy pictures on the television.” Tony nodded his head sagely. “Very impressive. Very smart.”

Dom smiled ruefully. “You don’t have to throw me a bone just because you caught me sooking, Pa.”

His father frowned. “No bone. I go home, I look at the thing, the order thing you buy…?”

“The handheld unit.”

“Hmmm. Is not so hard.”

Dom stared at his father. “You used the handheld unit?”

His father shrugged, but Dom could see he was proud of himself. Dom snorted his amusement and surprise. Talk about leading a horse to water…Except this particular old donkey had taken his own sweet time in lowering his head for a drink.

His father dusted his hands down the front of his apron.

“You coming back to stand now?” he asked.

“In a minute.”

“Take your time,” his father said magnanimously.

Dom stood in the dark for a few minutes after his father had left. After months of conflict, his father had finally come around. Unbelievable. Maybe now they could start streamlining the business, making things more efficient and cost-effective.

Any satisfaction Dom felt faded as he remembered the look on Lucy’s face when she’d thrown his car keys at his feet.

He’d hurt her. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do.

He leaned against the cool metal wall, forcing himself to remember the passion in Lucy’s voice when she spoke of the importance of children in her life. It was all very well for his father to pat him on the cheek and say wise words, but he hadn’t been there when Lucy talked about wanting siblings for her daughter. And he hadn’t watched the wife he loved turn into a bitter stranger because a harmless virus had taken away his ability to be a father.

Lucy would thank him in the long run.

“You didn’t make me kiss him or sleep with him or fall in love with him. I did that all on my own—with a lot of help from Mr. I’m-Not-Going-Anywhere,” Lucy said bitterly. “I’m so stupid. I told myself over and over that I couldn’t afford to get involved with someone, let alone my
business partner.
I honestly don’t think there is a dumber woman alive. What was I thinking?”

“Falling in love isn’t exactly a right-brain function,” Rosie said sympathetically.

Lucy looked up from the spreadsheet she’d been studying.

“Do you think if I show the bank the Web site and all the customers who have signed over to the new program and our new marketing plan they might reconsider the loan? It might be different now that I’ve got the Web site running.”

“You can try. But there are clauses in the contract about you and Dom buying each other out. You need to get the business assessed by a small-business broker. He owns half of it now. Any improvement you’ve made means that his half is worth more, too.”

Lucy sank back in her chair and reached for her spoon again.

“Why did I do this to myself?”

“Stop giving yourself a hard time. You fell in love. It’s not a crime. He made it incredibly easy for you to fall in love, too. And you had every reason to believe what he said to you. Up until now, he’s been the perfect man. Kind. Thoughtful. Always honest and reliable. Passionate. Committed.”

Lucy felt tears welling again, and she held up a hand to stem the flow of her sister’s words.

“Stop. Please.”

Rosie pushed the ice-cream tub closer.

“Have some ice cream.”

Lucy sniffed and dug her spoon into the tub, but couldn’t summon the effort to pry it out again. She wasn’t hungry, she was heartbroken.

“Did you get on to the counselor today?” she asked as she reached for another tissue.

“Got my first appointment next week.”

Rosie sounded nervous. Lucy blew her nose.

“You’ll be fine. If you don’t like her, if it doesn’t make sense or feel like something that will work for you, you just don’t go again. Simple.”

“I know. Just like changing hairdressers.”

“Exactly.”

“Except we’re talking about the inside of my head and not the outside.”

Lucy couldn’t help smiling.

“I’m so glad you and Andrew are talking again.”

Rosie twisted her wedding ring around her finger, studying the single diamond for a moment.

“I’m very lucky.”

“He’s lucky, too, you know.”

Rosie smiled. She looked very wistful.

“There’s a stupid part of me that hopes I’ll walk in the door of this counselor’s office next week and she’ll wave a magic wand and everything will be okay. I won’t be scared anymore, no more doubts. I know it won’t work like that, that it’ll be hard. But still…”

Lucy slid the spoon free from the tub and reached for the lid.

“No more doubts. I’d buy a ticket for that,” she said.

“Who wouldn’t?”

They smiled at each other. Rosie took the ice cream from her and crossed the room to return it to the freezer.

“What are you going to do?” she asked when she came back to the dining table.

Lucy stared at her spreadsheet.

“I’m going to endure,” she said finally. “I’m going to suck it up and keep running my business and seeing him every day, even though it will be one of the hardest things I have ever done.”

Rosie watched her sadly.

“I can do this,” Lucy said. “I’m tough.”

“Like an old boot.”

“Or one of those black box things that survive plane crashes.”

“Or Mr. T, back when he was with the
A-Team.
”

They both laughed.

The smile faded from Lucy’s lips.

“If only I could stop loving him,” she said quietly.

Rosie didn’t say a word, simply reached out and rubbed her arm. What more was there to say, after all?