Faking It

by Black, Natasha L.

  I could be polite and thoughtful and compromise for a limited time to get my ranch, but I wasn’t willing to change who I was, run all my decisions past another person, not even Allie. I was too set in my ways, too independent. And too fucking scared of being hurt again.

  There was the truth. It wasn’t that we’d inevitably hate each other, it’s that we’d let each other down and that would kill me. I’d rather not have her than let her down and break her heart. I’d rather tell her goodbye now than lose her unexpectedly down the road. My heart was pounding, and I was sweating.

  I had to get out of there. I raked a hand through my hair and got out of bed, not looking back at her. There was nothing I could say to convince Allie of what a disaster a pregnancy would be here. I just had to hope she wasn’t pregnant. And the last time I’d hoped for something it had been a loophole in the will—hope wasn’t worth a damn thing in my life.

  I pulled on my pants and left the room. I took a shower out in the mudroom and changed, went for a ride to clear my head. I could remember it like it was yesterday and not over two years ago. The day Teresa had put my hand on her stomach and said, “The stick turned blue. We have a little baby Santiago on the way.”

  I had been stunned, and a rush of nothing but joy suffused me. A child of my own, a baby from my bloodline, a new member of the family. Would it have my mother’s kind eyes or my dad’s stubborn streak? I had embraced her, kissed her, told her that I couldn’t wait. I’d given her the emerald ring my abuela had left to me for my bride. I’d brought her to my grandfather, presented her as my future wife.

  “I’ll be damned if she will ever be a Santiago. She doesn’t belong here any more than her child does,” he had spat at us.

  Enraged, I had told him we were to be married and that she was carrying the heir to Santeria. He told us both to get out. I had left with her. She hung on my arm, weeping, asking me again and again what she’d done wrong. I hated him that night. I hated him more when he gave me the printout from the private investigator, with its damning photos of Teresa kissing her ex-boyfriend outside a motel in town. And the pictures of the two of them, leaving the doctor’s office hand in hand.

  I met her at work, picked her up to take her to dinner. There at the restaurant I confronted her with the pictures. Teresa tried to deny it. The more she talked, the more I turned to stone. It was bullshit, all of it. She’d been cheating on me, tried to pass of her ex’s baby as mine to get her hands on my family’s money.

  She broke my heart. I had to sue her to get the goddamn ring back. It was in the family safe now and it would stay there forever. I had no intention of giving it out ever again. To think that I trusted her, that I believed it was my child without question was embarrassing to me. I had been naïve, had believed what I wanted to believe. It didn’t help that my grandfather had, after his initial fury, decided it was funny. He told me I was lucky as well.

  “Very few men learn such a hard lesson without much expense. You didn’t pay for a wedding and end up paying a divorce lawyer and alimony to find out she was a liar. I saved you a great deal of trouble, so stop moping around,” he’d said.

  I had been angry for a long time. After I got over her, got over the humiliation, I stuck to casual dating. A few dates, a few nights together and I’d move on. I didn’t do one-night stands, but I didn’t do commitment either. The longest I’d been with anyone since Teresa was a couple of months. I didn’t want to get serious, meet someone’s family and learn about their hobbies only to end up disappointed again. So I didn’t waste my time or theirs. I didn’t trust anyone beyond the surface. Hell, it had been years since I’d even told a woman about my parents dying. I’d gotten used to glossing over it, saying ‘they don’t live around here’ when asked about them.

  There was no reason for me to seek out a partner for romance or companionship. I had all of the fulfillment I needed from Santeria. The ranch was my job, my hobby, my family legacy. It had taken longer to forgive myself than it had taken to forgive Teresa. I’d felt like a complete fool.

  An unplanned pregnancy, a pleasant business arrangement/fake marriage transforming overnight into something permanent and complicated—it was the last thing I wanted. I liked my life the way it was. I had my ranch. Now I had a live-in friend with benefits in Allie. I was happy. So obviously something had to happen to ruin it. If that something wasn’t an accidental pregnancy—it was wrecked anyway. Because I’d seen that affectionate softening in Allie’s face. All this time I’d thought she was content with what we had agreed upon. But she’d been hiding the truth from me. She wanted a real relationship, wanted to make this into something it wasn’t and try to drag it out to the bitter end.

  I’d made the arrangement with her to avoid that kind of drama, the hurt feelings and the disappointed expectations. We had agreed to three years and a quiet, amicable divorce. I still wanted that, but not if she was angling for something else. I didn’t believe she’d try to trap me with a pregnancy. I may not trust anyone completely, but I knew Allie better than that. She was loyal to a fault, so she wouldn’t trick me. Still, I was disappointed that she hadn’t held up her side of the deal—hadn’t remained a friendly lover with no strong feelings involved. I didn’t need to worry about this—I had enough on my mind with the ranch and the luxury leather goods operation. A complicated personal life was something I’d avoided at all costs for the last two years after I made it through what Pablo called Hurricane Teresa.

  The sick feeling stayed with me no matter how far I rode. I told myself I was getting reacquainted with the herds, checking out a fence repair that had been completed in my absence—that I had a reason for the long ride, and I wasn’t just running away from an uncomfortable situation.

  If I explained to her about Teresa, about how the one and only time I opened my heart and let myself fall in love that I was betrayed, would that change anything? Would Allie back off and say, oh it’s okay, I don’t want to scare you with my inconvenient feelings? Did I want her or anyone to be afraid to tell me the truth? No. I just wasn’t ready to deal with it.

  I’d been so ecstatic to be home with her. I’d missed her terribly. If that meant I had serious feelings for her, I shouldn’t be surprised. But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want anything to change because every time something had changed in my life, it had been for the worse. My parents died. My grandpa sent me damning photos of my girlfriend. Teresa turned out to be a liar. Papí died and only left me the ranch if I was willing to marry for it. Every transition in my life had been shitty.

  He’d done it for a reason. The terms of that confounded will—I knew he’d dreamed them up to do two things. One, he wanted to control me from beyond the grave because he loved being the patriarch, the man in charge. Two, he wanted me to have a family. He hated that I was alone. He’d tried to get me to find a mail-order bride from the Philippines once. He offered to bring me one over for my birthday. I think I ranted at him for an hour about how demeaning that was, both to the woman and to me. His idea of taking away our choices by essentially buying me a supposedly subservient wife was disgusting.

  When I’d rejected his attempt to marry me off to someone he deemed suitable, he’d seemed to let the idea drop. Little did I know that he’d tied marriage to my inheritance so I’d have no choice in the matter. He hadn’t made a secret of the fact that he wanted me to devote my life to the ranch, and that part of that included producing an heir. I would need a wife and a child, preferably a son. As much as he wanted to run thing, I was aware of an undercurrent of warmth—that he did, in his way, want what he believed was best for me. I resented the way he went about it, requiring my marriage to get the ranch, but I understood it as well.

  I was a stubborn man, and I wouldn’t take his advice. No matter how many times he had said that marrying my abuela was the best decision he ever made, the luckiest day of his life, I still didn’t find myself a presentable wife to bring to the dinner table. Never mind that the only time I introduced him to a serio
us girlfriend, he’d said he’d be damned if she’d be a Santiago. That kind of reception wasn’t encouraging even if I had wanted to go forward with a serious relationship after that. Not that the way it ended with Teresa had left me anything but bitter.

  So my grandfather had left me with a mission: Keep Santeria in the family. He’d set the terms and required me to stay married for three years—he’d probably read some article that three years was how long it took to build a healthy marriage or some dumb shit like that. He would have had a reason for the length of time he specified—he always had a reason for everything. It gave me a pang to think of him plotting my future for after his death, trying to figure out a way to keep me from being alone, from rotting away on a west Texas ranch, the last of the Santiago clan.

  I rode out to the tree I used to picnic under as a kid, where I’d take my book to read or my slingshot for practice. I’d shown it to Allie the first time she came for a visit. It was shaped just right to lean against, cast a feathery shade, and felt solid against my back. I let Tia graze nearby while I stared off toward the horizon, wondering what the hell I was going to do. I didn’t exactly want to bail out and end the marriage. I just wanted to be childish and throw some sort of fit until Allie agreed to keep everything exactly as it was no allusions to wanting more. For me to be happy, apparently she wasn’t allowed to want anything. I rubbed my forehead. Surely I was better than that.

  I’d have to face her eventually, and I’d have to explain that I couldn’t give her what she needed. I’d offer her separate bedrooms, some distance between us. She was probably owed an apology for all the times I’d acted like I needed her, like I couldn’t stand being without her. Because I might not have said I loved her, but I’d sure as hell acted like a man in love at least half the time. I blamed myself for getting carried away, for the way missed her when we were apart, the way I wanted to tell her everything and kiss her breathless. If she had broken our deal by falling for me, it had been at least half my fault. Because I hadn’t tried to keep things professional and platonic with my hands all over her all the time and her picture as the wallpaper on my phone. I made love to Allie as easily as I breathed, and I needed it as much as oxygen. If I’d even tried resisting her, it might be a less damning situation. I might as well have baited a trap to catch her with the way I’d acted.

  I dropped my head into my hands, breathing in the familiar scent of earth and horse and dusty Texas wind. It was the smell of home to me, or had been until a coconut shampoo and cherry lip balm smell had replaced it. Because when I thought of being home, of everything being right with the world, it was Allie in my arms as I inhaled the coconut and cherry scent and the shape of her and the exact tightness of her arms around my neck. It went back to the day she was late during the storm. When I could’ve lost her. That was the moment everything had shifted. I’d told myself it was nothing more than anxiety, that I had overreacted, that it meant nothing. When it was obvious that she meant everything to me. I was just too damn scared to face what that meant, that now I had something to lose. Something I couldn’t stand to live without.

  Now I was faced with the choice of losing her or taking the risk of making it real, if I hadn’t already lost her by bolting in panic when she wondered aloud what such a big deal about a pregnancy would be. Because if she was already married to me for real, in her heart, that would mean I had hurt her viciously when I ran out. I didn’t know how to untangle this. All I knew was that I was afraid either way—afraid of a life without her, and afraid of trying to make it work forever. When nothing lasted forever except the land beneath me.

  14

  Allie

  It was a beautiful homecoming, and our reunion was every bit as romantic and fulfilling as I’d hoped. It was the aftermath that was a damn disappointment.

  Yes, we got carried away and forgot to use a condom. We’d never had to remember it before because I’d been on the pill. And we’d done it dozens, probably hundreds of times without one. So, force of habit plus the sheer frantic urgency to be together had added up to a birth control failure of the forgetful kind. We weren’t planning a family. But we had done a crappy job of remembering to use contraception in the heat of the moment. So if we had a baby, I’d consider it nature taking its course. A happy surprise.

  Evidently Raul’s idea of a happy surprise was different from mine since he had looked at me like I’d transformed into Medusa, snake hair and all, when I’d asked what the big deal was. In his mind, I was guessing parenthood was a minefield. His own parents had died young, and he’d been raised by a demanding grandfather whose approval he never quite won. I guess I could see how that kind of upbringing didn’t exactly encourage you to run out and procreate. Still, I’d like to think he trusted the two of us more than that. His look of sheer panic had told me everything I needed to know. The last thing, the very last thing he wanted was for me to be pregnant. Which meant, he didn’t want the marriage to become anything more than it was.

  Part of me wanted to sulk, to call my sisters and complain that he didn’t want kids. The problem with that was, I never knew anyone who solved a problem by complaining about their partner instead of working through it together. My impulse to call and get sympathy wouldn’t help in the long run. He had acted like a baby was the worst thing that could happen. His panic had been obvious. He’d bolted out of the bedroom without an explanation. Since I knew he cared about me, that meant that he had, as they say in the magazines, issues. About fatherhood or unplanned pregnancies or something. I didn’t really want to hear about it and convince him everything would be okay because my feelings were hurt. But that was what being an adult meant—working things out together instead of whining and hiding. I would’ve much rather complained and felt sorry for myself, but that wasn’t going to get me what I wanted, which was the man I loved. We had been very close, best friends even, and intimate besides. There was enough of a connection between us that I’d be able to reach him, get him to talk to me. I just had to brace myself for hearing something I probably wasn’t going to like.

  Something like he never wanted kids. Or something like he still wanted a divorce in two and a half years. Or that he’d like to stop having sex and just be friends. Okay, so I knew it wasn’t going to be that last one, but still, unpleasantness was ahead. I believed in us, and I believed in myself enough to go after him.

  With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, washed up and fetched some fresh clothes. I got Dori to come with me. He was the one who brought us together, so I figured he’d be good backup, or my good luck charm.

  I set off after Raul on foot. He was probably on horseback since his truck was still at the house, but I knew he’d be in one of two places if he was brooding. I checked the nearest one first. Out in the main stables, there was a stall at the end that was vacant. He kept a stool in there and some tools for repairing tack. I’d found him braiding harness there before when he had a problem to think over. The only thing in that stall now was a sleeping cat that hissed at me when I went in to look. I moved down the stalls, petting the horses and talking to them. When I got to Moonlight, I faltered. I wanted to find Raul as quickly as possible. I could move faster on horseback, but I didn’t know how to saddle her myself. So that would mean finding a groom and waiting around. I told Moonlight we’d go for a ride next time, and I headed back out on foot with Dori.

  In my mind, I rehearsed what I’d say to him. That we were both to blame for skipping out on a condom, and that I’d go to town and get the morning after pill. I was willing to respect his wishes in this, but we needed to have a conversation about the state of our union. About what we meant to each other going forward. And about why he freaked out

  I love you. I’ll do anything to stay with you—Even if I felt that way, I couldn’t say it. There were things I wouldn’t do to be with him. I was a woman who knew my own worth, and I wouldn’t give that up. I’d just give up damn near anything else, because this love was so deep, so humbling. But I had to be willing to dr
aw a line. I had to find the words. I love you. I have been in love with you for a long time, and I expect to love you for the rest of my life. So I hope we can figure out a way to stay together. I’ll help you learn to trust and show you that you can count on me. We can fight for this together. That was better. Stronger. Less pleading. I wouldn’t beg him. I would hold on to my shreds of dignity and leave if that was what it took. I deserved to be his wife, his beloved, and raise a family with him if that was what we wanted. I would rescue him if he needed to be saved from his demons. But I wouldn’t beg him to let me stay.

  I took a long breath and promised myself that.

  “We’d be okay back at the apartment, right, Dori?” I asked the dog. The dog didn’t even look at me, “Right, thanks,” I said wryly. “Way to stay strong. Side with the hot cowboy, don’t give me any moral support.”

  Remember when you found me in the car wreck during that bad storm? I could say, that was love. Just like me coming to find you right now is love. Because we save each other, we’re here for each other. You knew when I needed you, just like I know you need me now. To tell you that it’s okay to be afraid of how big this is, at this love that is so strong it can terrify us both. But you’re not in this alone. You got so used to being alone, and I came along. We changed everything for each other. Let me help you. Kiss me one time and you’ll know it’s right, that we can forgive each other and never let go.

  That was good. I’d say that. I was just nervous, because what if he didn’t want to hear it? What if his panic about pregnancy wasn’t just old issues? What if it was him never wanting a family with me and never being able to trust me?