by Unknown
Switching off the engine, Rafael looked at the house. The downstairs lights were still on. The master bedroom was in the back. He could only hope that she wasn’t crying as he settled in for the night.
. . .
Nathalyia was miserable. She couldn’t stop crying. Part of her wanted to blurt out everything when Rafael carried her upstairs. The warmth of his body, his smell, his strength—all called to her . . . then she remembered the pregnancy test boxes in the bathroom. She panicked, thinking he might go into the bathroom and see them.
She curled tighter. She had been cruel to him, but it had been necessary. She hadn’t expected him. She’d thought it was Jake checking on her. She had acquaintances, but no really close friends except Jake and now Clarice. It was difficult to balance being a friend and an employer.
She pressed her hand to her stomach. Her eyes shut again. She’d never thought about children. Unlike her mother and sisters, she might have been with one man, but the results were the same. She was pregnant and unmarried.
She had no idea what she was going to do about it. The only thing she was sure of was that she was not going to tell Rafael.
He’d looked so stricken. She recalled the rose he’d given her. Getting out of bed, she quickly went downstairs. She saw the white, long-stemmed bud on the terrazzo floor. Picking it up, she clutched it to her. It would be the last thing he gave her.
Fighting tears, she locked the door, bit her lip on finding it already engaged. Even when she had obviously hurt him, he’d thought to keep her safe. At least she had chosen an honorable man.
She flipped the light switch, throwing the entryway into partial darkness except for the light coming from the huge lanterns on either side of the double recessed doors, and headed for the stairs.
Rafael pushed away from the tree. He’d been too restless to stay in the car and had gotten out. He’d watched Nathalyia come down the stairs, held his breath as she’d stood over the rose. Emotions rushed though him on seeing her lift the flower to her lips and close her eyes.
He’d taken two steps toward her before he stopped. Obviously, she was dealing with something heavy. He thought it might be connected to her sister, but quickly dismissed the idea. Things had been fine between them these past weeks. She’d been happy. Their lovemaking incredible. It hurt that she wouldn’t talk to him, but seeing her gently cradle the rose went a long way to soothing his jagged nerves.
Whatever was going on, her feelings for him hadn’t changed. Tomorrow, he’d have his answer. After all, he was one of the best negotiators in the state. They were going to talk whether she wanted to or not. Getting in his car, he started the motor and drove off.
The next morning Nathalyia felt as miserable as she had when she’d gone to bed. She wasn’t sure she had slept at all, but she must have, she thought, as she slowly got out of the car at Fontaine. The fragments of her horrific dream were still vivid in her mind. She and the baby she’d carried in her arms had no place to go, and Rafael had turned his back on them.
Nathalyia’s trembling hand cupped her stomach. That wouldn’t happen. She had successfully run Fontaine for the past three years. There was no reason to think that would change. Before she took another step she accepted that her pregnancy and the baby’s birth would definitely change her life.
From hiring to ordering supplies to coordinating events, everything went through her. She had final approval on every aspect of the day-to-day operation of the restaurant—except ordering the alcohol for the bar. That had always been Jake’s domain.
So far, she’d been well, and she prayed that she remained that way, but she was used to twelve- to fourteen-hour nonstop days. Several pregnant women who’d worked at Fontaine complained of morning sickness and being tired all the time.
Nathalyia would just have to face the situation, if and when it came. Deep in thought, she entered the restaurant. She had taken several steps before she realized people were calling her name. She glanced up. “Yes?”
The three waiters smiled and spoke. “Good morning, Mrs. Fontaine.”
“Good morning,” she managed, quickly lowering her head and continuing to her office Her eyes were red, her lids puffy from all of the crying. She had on sunglasses, but she didn’t want to answer questions from her concerned employees.
Inside the office, she rounded her desk and took her seat. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to return home. Aware that if she went, she might find it easier and easier to remain there, she put her handbag in the bottom desk drawer and reached for the menu she wanted to revise.
She had work to do. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t get it done.
Time crept by while Nathalyia worked in her office. She kept having to go over information, recheck what she’d done. Every time her phone rang, she’d tensed, worrying that it was Rafael. It never was. She pushed the disappointment away. Yet she couldn’t quite forget the rose she’d put in the bud vase last night and cried over this morning.
A knock sounded on her office door. She jumped, her head coming up, her back pressing against the leather chair. She was trying to figure out if Rafael would come to the office when she heard Jake’s voice.
“Boss. Nathalyia.”
She slumped in her chair in relief. At the moment she was in no emotional state to have another argument with Rafael. However, neither did she want to talk to Jake. She knew he must be worried about her.
Martin had taught her to be a creature of habit. That way she’d never forget, and the staff would be more likely to follow her good example. One of her rituals was to tour the restaurant before it opened. They’d been open for an hour and she was still in her office.
“Nathalyia.”
Nathalyia recognized Clarice’s voice. The knock came again. She could just imagine the two discussing their next course of action. They hadn’t resumed their easy friendship, so for them to be together meant they were really worried. The bar was as busy as the main restaurant. Both of them were needed. Whatever happened, she didn’t want her condition to interfere with Fontaine.
“Come in.”
The door opened. Clarice came in, followed by Jake. Their faces were wreathed in frowns and concern.
“I’m fine,” she told them, trying her best to smile.
“You don’t look fine,” Clarice said, and rounded the desk to stare down at her. “Rafael called to see if you came in and asked how you were.”
Nathalyia’s smile slid from her face. She clutched the pen in her hand. “What did you tell him?”
“That you were here, but I couldn’t answer the second question.” Clarice’s frown deepened. “I’d say you weren’t doing so hot.”
Nathalyia busied herself with the menu she’d made almost no headway on. “Allergies. As for Rafael, we aren’t seeing each other anymore, so please don’t give out any information. I don’t want to speak to him. Please tell the hostess.”
“He do something?” Jake asked, his voice hard.
Nathalyia’s head came up. Depends on how you look at it, she thought. “No. I just decided I was spending too much time away from the restaurant.”
“But you two were great together,” Clarice protested. “You were happier, more carefree, than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Leave it, Clarice,” Jake ordered. “She knows what she wants.”
Clarice threw him an impatient look, and then spoke to Nathalyia. “The restaurant is doing great. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
“I appreciate your concern, but my first and only responsibility has to be the restaurant,” Nathalyia said.
“A balance sheet won’t keep you warm at night,” Clarice pointed out.
Nathalyia’s eyes widened.
Jake grabbed Clarice’s arm. “We need to get back. The boss knows what she wants.”
Clarice resisted his urging. “I’m not so sure.” She bent down to eye level with Nathalyia. “Your eyes aren’t red and puffy because of allergies.”
Nathalyia
swallowed.
Clarice straightened. “We’re here if you want to talk. Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry,” Nathalyia answered, her voice barely audible.
“I’ll bring you some soup.” Taking Nathalyia’s arm, she gently urged her to the sofa on the far side of the room. “Why don’t you rest. I’ll check on you, and if you’re asleep, I’ll come back later.” Clarice took off Nathalyia’s heels and spread the soft cashmere throw over her.
Nathalyia clutched the soft material, bit her lips, and closed her eyes.
“Whatever it is, we’re here for you.”
Taking Jake’s arm, Clarice urged him out the door. “Something major is bothering her.”
“If he hurt her, he’ll answer to me,” Jake promised.
Clarice shook her head, glanced back at the closed door. “My guess is that Rafael doesn’t have a clue. He seems just as puzzled as we are.”
“Well, something is bothering her,” Jake said. “I haven’t seen her like this since we lost Martin.”
“I hate to ask, but do you think she might be feeling guilty because she might have found someone else?”
Jake looked uncomfortable. “How would I know? Besides, they’re just dating.”
Clarice rolled her eyes. “Men. There are none so blind as those who cannot not see.”
Rounding the corner, Clarice saw Theresa hurrying away. “She was probably eavesdropping. I think she might be stealing my tips. If I catch her, I’m going to mop up the floor with her and that hideous wig she wears.”
“Haven’t you learned that fighting solves nothing?”
“I didn’t start the fight with Evelyn at school,” she protested.
“The results were the same. You lost your job.”
Her chin lifted. “I quit and ended up with a job that pays better, has better benefits, and I can eat great seafood.” She waited a beat. “Plus, I get to work with you.”
“Yeah.” His strong face softened. “Take Nathalyia the soup.”
“We through fighting?” she asked.
“I guess,” he said.
She gently touched his arm. “I’m glad. I didn’t like being at odds with my best friend.” Turning, she walked away and missed seeing the pain on his face.
THIRTEEN
Clarice returned with the soup a few minutes later. Jake was with her. They both fussed over Nathalyia so much that she couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted.
Fighting tears again, she stared at the stunned expressions of Jake and Clarice. “You think less of me, don’t you?”
Clarice sat beside Nathalyia and hugged her. “Don’t be silly. We’re just surprised.”
“He should have taken better care of you,” Jake muttered, his fists clenched.
Nathalyia blushed and looked away. “He did.”
Jake’s gaze dropped to his tennis-shod feet. “You haven’t told him, have you?”
“No, and you can’t either.” Panic entered Nathalyia’s voice.
“Nat—”
“No,” she repeated firmly. “I won’t use a baby to trap a man. I can take care of this baby.”
“But a baby needs more than just financial security,” Clarice said. “Mama tried, but I missed not having a father.”
“All men don’t make good fathers,” Nathalyia said. “I don’t want him to know. You have to promise me.”
“All right, but what if he sees you when you begin to show?” Clarice asked.
Misery and tears welled in Nathalyia’s eyes. “He’d want to be a part of the child’s life, but he’d end up hating me for trapping him into marriage.”
“What if he thought it was someone else’s baby?” Jake asked.
Clarice and Nathalyia turned to him, their expression shocked.
Jake stared at the floor. “There were a lot of troops in my unit and other men who had their sperm frozen before they left for combat duty. What if Martin had that done when he found out he was sick?”
“That’s an absolutely horrible idea,” Clarice said, clearly displeased. “What kind of woman would date one man and be artificially inseminated with her deceased husband’s sperm? Rafael would despise her, and I wouldn’t blame him.”
“But it would serve the dual purpose of making him believe the baby isn’t his, and once and for all make sure he’d never attempt to contact her again,” Jake defended.
Nathalyia shook her head. “There has to be another way.” “I guess you could start dating another man and make Rafael believe the baby is his,” Clarice suggested.
“I won’t use anyone that way.” She clenched her hands in her lap and sighed. “I’ll take Jake’s suggestion. I’ll call and have him come to the restaurant tonight.”
“Are you sure this is the way you want to handle things?” Clarice asked.
“It’s the only way,” Nathalyia said. And Rafael would hate her forever.
. . .
His team members were looking at him strangely. No wonder. No matter what, he could usually find the good in situations and make people think of a brighter day. It wasn’t happening today, not with his emotions in such turmoil.
It wasn’t only that a woman had dumped him. It might have been, initially, but there was more to it than that. Something was troubling Nathalyia. Something deep and important. Yet she didn’t want to tell him about it. Instead, she chose to shut him out.
That hurt more than he could have imagined. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to be there for her until he couldn’t.
His cell rang. Hearing the familiar ring tone he’d assigned to Nathalyia’s number so he wouldn’t let her calls go into voice mail, he quickly reached for the phone. “Hello. Are you all right?” The knowledge that she wasn’t and there wasn’t anything he could do about it had kept him up all night.
“Yes.”
A lie. Her voice remained unsteady, hesitant. Whatever she called to say, he wasn’t going to like it.
“I need to explain. Could you come to the restaurant about eleven?”
He had been right. They weren’t going to talk at her house, which meant she hadn’t changed her mind about them breaking up.
“Whatever it is that has made you change your mind about us, we need to talk. We can work this out.”
There was the briefest pause. “I’ll see you later. Goodbye.”
Rafael slowly placed his cell phone on his desk. He didn’t have a good feeling about this.
. . .
Nathalyia replaced the phone, then went to get a bottle of water from the bar. There was no way she could make rounds. Opening the door, Theresa almost fell inside the room.
“Did I talk loud enough for you to hear?”
Theresa didn’t have the courtesy to appear embarrassed. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Catching her sister’s arm, Nathalyia pulled her inside the office. “If you want to continue working here, it had better be.”
Theresa pressed her hand to her chest as if offended. “I’d never say a word. Sisters have to stick together. You’re just like the rest of us, after all.”
Nathalyia wanted to deny it. She’d worked all of her life to be nothing like her amoral mother and sister.
“Rafael will walk away just like the men who had their fun with us did,” Theresa told her. “Be smarter than me and get rid of it.”
Nathalyia gasped in shocked horror. “I would never do that.”
“You’re just saying that because you still hope to catch Rafael. You’ll think differently when you wake up puking your guts out or you’re too tired to lift your head off the pillow,” Theresa predicted. “The restaurant will suffer if you don’t.”
“No, it won’t,” Nathalyia said despite her fear of that very thing.
Theresa patted her arm affectionately. “You want to keep the baby because you think it will help you catch Rafael. It won’t work, but I don’t blame you for trying. He revs my engine.”
Most men did. “You had better get
back to work.”
“Just trying to give you some sisterly advice. Wish someone had wised me up. I really thought Howard would leave his wife and marry me.” Her lips compressed into a hard line. “The slimy bastard wouldn’t even talk to me after I told him I was pregnant with the twins. He sure changed his tune when I threatened to tell his holier-than-thou wife.”
“You didn’t love him,” Nathalyia pointed out.
Theresa lowered her head. “I thought I did. I was so tired of being poor, of never having enough. Howard had money. It was his responsibility to take care of the babies and me. He didn’t even want to see the twins after they were born.”
“Rafael won’t be that way,” Nathalyia told her, sure at least of that. Rafael would never desert his child.
Her eyes narrowed, Theresa’s head came up. “If he’s so great, why didn’t you tell him? And why isn’t he here?”
“Because I won’t trap a man because I’m pregnant,” Nathalyia snapped.
“Are you sure he’d marry you?” Theresa questioned, a hint of censure in her voice. “Men like hot sex, but take off in a hurry if you get knocked up. I know. Paula knows. Your daddy would cross to the other side of the street if he saw you or Mama coming down the same street.”
Nathalyia felt the familiar stab of shame, the longing for someone to love her. Her mother had thought to trap Nathalyia’s father, even going so far as to try to name her after Nathan Allen.
When it hadn’t happened, her mother had spent the next eighteen years of Nathalyia’s life telling her what a no-good bastard her father was, and what a mistake it had been for her to get pregnant with Nathalyia. She wondered what type of mother she would be.
“You better think again about having the kid. Nobody has to know,” Theresa coaxed. “Like I said, you won’t be able to take care of this place and a brat.”
“I’m keeping this baby and running my restaurant. We’ll be fine.”
Theresa reached for the doorknob. “I’ll stick by you when the gossip starts. At least you’re smart enough to keep it from Rafael and save yourself the grief of him running out on you.”