Nadine wound her way across the room, stopping often to say goodbye to friends and former in-laws she wouldn’t see again—perhaps ever, once they went back to their homes. She squeezed Elsa tight, whose bright smile hadn’t dimmed since they entered the ballroom, and whispered words of encouragement, telling her how happy she was for her and her new husband. By the time she made it over to the children, her daughter had spotted her.
“You’re leaving?” Antonella asked, pouting. Her hair had been tamed into a low chignon, held in place by a series of pearl-lined clips.
“It’s late, and I’m going to get some sleep before the sun comes up. I’ll see you later today.”
“Okay.”
Nadine gave her a tight squeeze and then slipped through the double doors toward the hotel exit. More tired than she’d realized, she dozed a little in the limo, but woke up when Joachim pulled into the driveway.
“See you later, Joachim,” she called, as she walked toward the front door.
“Hasta luego, señora,” he called back. He waited until she’d let herself into the house before strolling off in the direction of the entrance to the servants’ quarters.
Nadine undressed quickly and fell into bed, her head barely touching the pillow before she was asleep.
Sometime later, she jolted awake. At first she thought the sun had disturbed her rest, the way it slanted through the drapes covering the French doors that led to the balcony. But as her sleep-muddled brain became more aware of her surroundings, she realized the sound of someone pounding ceaselessly on the door had woken her up.
“¡Señora, despiértate, por favor!” The desperate voice of Philippa, the housekeeper, could be heard through the wooden partition.
Rubbing her eyes, Nadine sat up quickly. “Come in,” she called.
Philippa burst in, her face crumpled in worry and hands clutching the telephone. Panic shot through Nadine’s veins. A sixth sense told her that whatever was wrong had to do with her daughter.
“Señor Alesini is on the teléfono. You must to go now. There has been an accident. La chiquita is in the hospital!”
Chapter 9
Nadine tore out of the elevator and marched down the stark white hospital hallway toward the nurse’s station. Her body shook with the type of fear that drowned out all other thoughts and feelings, focused on her sole goal, which was to get to her daughter. She couldn’t breathe easy until she saw Antonella in one piece.
She was almost to the desk when she saw Cortez coming toward her. Stubble shadowed his unshaven chin and jaw, and his white shirt and black slacks were much more rumpled now.
Her eyes zeroed in on a dark smudge about the size of a quarter on the left side of his shirt, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Is that blood?” she asked in a terrified whisper.
“It is, but—”
“What?” The room started spinning. “Where is she? Where is she?”
“Nadine, calm down. Listen to me.” Cortez reached for her, but she brushed aside his hands.
“I will not calm down. Tell me where she is. Tell me where my baby is!” She grabbed the lapels of his shirt.
He grasped her by the arms. “Escúchame. Listen to me.” He spoke in a calm but firm voice. “She is fine. She is not seriously hurt. I tried to explain everything to you on the phone, but you hung up so fast.”
“If she’s not seriously hurt, then whose blood is that?” Nadine demanded in a whisper.
“It’s hers, but—”
The hospital sounds became muffled, as if someone had placed noise-reducing headphones over her ears. Her knees went weak, and as if from a distance, she heard Cortez curse under his breath.
Fingers biting into her arms, he dragged her over to a group of chairs. “Sit,” he said in a grim voice, pushing her down onto one of the seats. He sat down beside her and held onto one wrist, as if he feared she’d run off.
He waited as she took several deep breaths to stave off the fuzziness that had encroached on the perimeter of her brain.
“She’s going to be okay.” He continued to speak in a mild, low tone. “She has a bruise on her head and a broken wrist. It’s a minor fracture, the doctor said, so they put a splint on it. I have blood on my shirt because when I pulled her from the car, shattered glass had nicked her skin and caused some bleeding.”
“Where is she?”
“Room 2201, down the hall. They want to keep her for the rest of the day for observation because she bumped her head. It’s just a precaution.”
Nadine took a few more deep breaths, fighting back the clawing panic. Terrible things happened in hospitals.
Cortez’s hand tightened around her wrist. “You have to calm down. She’s already shaken, and if she sees you like this, it will upset her more.”
She nodded her understanding. She had to be strong for her baby.
“Do you want some water?”
She shook her head, even though her mouth felt as dry as the Monte Desert in western Argentina. “No. I just want to see her.”
Cortez took a deep breath. “All right. Let’s go.”
He rose from the chair and Nadine followed him, taking the time during the short walk to pull herself together. As he said, if she appeared distressed, it would only upset Antonella more.
“How are the other kids?” she asked.
Cortez paused outside the door. His eyes held concern as he looked down at her. “They’re all fine and Gustavo took them to the house after they were checked out. You probably passed each other on the road.”
Antonella had been riding with her cousins—Gabriela, her older brother, Carlos, and her second-oldest brother—when a vehicle sideswiped them. Even though Antonella was the most banged up of the car’s occupants, Nadine was thankful that the injuries were not severe for anyone else in the car.
Cortez pushed open the door to room 2201, but let Nadine precede him. When she saw her daughter lying there beneath the white sheets, her pale face just a shade or two darker than the stark white pillowcase her head rested on, she almost fell apart.
She’d experienced this type of emotional turmoil before.
A child. A hospital. But that time the results had been disastrous. Devastating.
With the same determination that she’d exercised for years, Nadine slammed the door on the memory, forcing the image of tiny little fingers and toes from her mind. She treated that time the way she always had—as if it had never occurred.
“Mommy.” Antonella lifted her arms and Nadine rushed to her side, dropping onto the firm mattress and gathering her in her arms.
“Are you okay, baby?” She petted her daughter’s curly hair, which had fallen free of the clips that had held it in place.
“Yes,” her daughter replied, voice muffled against her breast.
“Mommy’s here now.” She brushed hair from Antonella’s forehead to get a good look at her and saw a mean-looking purple bump on her temple. “That looks pretty nasty.” She touched it and her daughter winced.
“The nurse says I have to stay here.”
“Only until the end of the day.” Cortez walked over to the chair near the wall and sat down. Though he spoke in a reassuring voice, Nadine read the anxiety in his expression. His well-coiffed hair was no longer neat and tidy—probably pushed into all directions by fingers motivated by worry. He was unshaven, disheveled, and looked like he needed to sleep.
Their gazes connected over the top of Antonella’s head. He didn’t have to say a word. She read everything in his clear gray eyes. He and she weren’t just two parents worried about the wellbeing of their child.
They were two parents who’d already experienced the tragedy of losing one.
Chapter 10
Nadine closed the drapes on the windows in her daughter’s bedroom, so in the morning the sun’s rays wouldn’t disturb her sleep. Then she moved quietly over the carpeted floor, making her way over to the bed where she slept.
She sighed, tucking the sheets around Antonella more securel
y.
At the hospital, Cortez had dismissed the notion that he needed to go home and get some rest. He’d spent the entire day there and taken a nap in the chair, which temporarily revived him. They’d eaten lunch and dinner in the room with Antonella, played games, read, and while she napped, they watched TV. Neither wanted to leave her alone, and they kept a close eye on her, right along with the medical personnel.
Though reluctant to let her out of her sight, Nadine finally dropped a featherlight kiss on her cheek and walked over to the door. When she opened it, Gabriela stood on the other side, eyes widening when she saw Nadine.
“Hi,” the girl said in a low voice.
Nadine spoke to her in Spanish. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I wanted to see Antonella. Can I stay in here tonight?” Gabriela asked timidly.
Cortez had moved another bed into Antonella’s room so the girls could be close.
“Of course you can.” She tilted up Gabriela’s chin. “You’re okay?”
Gabriela nodded vigorously.
Nadine smiled. “Go on.” She stepped out of the way and Gabriela entered the bedroom and climbed into the other bed.
Nadine quietly shut the door and went downstairs to the kitchen. She found Cortez in there, standing in front of the butcher-block island, staring down into a glass of water with a deep frown on his face. He still hadn’t changed out of his clothes.
He looked up when she came in.
“She’s sleeping,” Nadine said. “Gabriela’s in the room with her now.”
He rubbed a tired hand across his brow. “Gustavo asked if she could stay when they go home tomorrow. She wants to stay until Antonella leaves to go back to the States. I told him that it was fine.”
“They’re close. I know they like to spend as much time together as possible.”
Nadine stepped further into the room and took a fortifying breath, bracing for the conversation to come, a conversation they hadn’t been able to have at the hospital. “How did this happen? And by the way, I’m not judging.”
His thin lips compressed into a narrow line. “Of course not.”
“I just want to know how our daughter ended up in a car filled with a bunch of teenagers.”
“They’re her cousins,” Cortez said tightly.
“Be that as it may, look at what happened.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the upstairs. “Is this what happens when she comes to visit? You don’t keep an eye on her?”
“I cannot watch her every second of every day, Nadine.”
This time the beautiful pronunciation of her name lay buried under the weight of irritation in his voice.
“I knew you would overreact,” he muttered.
She hated that word—overreact. As if there was something wrong with her for loving and caring deeply for her only child and wanting to ensure her safety at all times. After they’d lost their baby, he accused her of stifling their daughter. However, she saw it as simply being attentive.
“I am her mother. I am not overreacting.”
“And I am her father.”
“Then act like it,” she snapped.
He flattened his palms against the gray granite countertop. “What would you like me to do? Follow her around everywhere she goes to make sure she doesn’t skin a knee or bump a toe?” His accent thickened in frustration.
Nadine crossed her arms. “You know good and damn well that’s not what I’m saying. You also know she shouldn’t have been in the car with those other kids. An adult should have been driving them. Or she should have been in the car with you and your aunt and her husband.”
“The car was full with my aunt and her family. Antonella wanted to ride with her cousins, and she was perfectly safe with her older cousin driving.”
“Yet they had an accident.”
“You do understand the other car—the one with the adult driver—ran through the traffic light and hit them in the side? Was that made clear to you?”
Nadine fisted her hand. “Don’t condescend to me.”
“And don’t question whether or not I do what’s best for Antonella.”
“My daughter—”
“Our daughter,” Cortez growled, face tightening. His words hung in the room like bitter, rotten fruit. “Our daughter.”
Nadine felt a twinge of guilt. “It was a slip of the tongue.”
“No, it wasn’t.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You’ve always only thought of her as yours.”
“That is not true.”
“You came in here wanting to argue,” he accused, jabbing a finger at her. His handsome features hardened, lines of tension deepening in a face already creased with fatigue. “You’re not going to like what I have to say. Antonella is back in her home country, on familiar ground, where she belongs. When you left, you took the most precious thing I have in the world away from me and I accepted it. But do not push me, Nadine. Do not make me take her back.”
Nadine’s head jerked back and her stomach dropped at the blatant threat.
Leaving hadn’t been easy. She recalled the heartrending sobbing as nine-year-old Antonella clung to her father one last time, refusing to get on the flight. Only after he insisted that she release him and go did she finally allow Nadine to take her through the gate to the plane. But Nadine had never forgotten the look on his face. The unshed tears in his own eyes.
She’d hurt him deeply the day she left with their daughter. The one thing she hadn’t suspected was that Cortez had never forgiven her for it.
Chapter 11
“You don’t mean that,” Nadine said, one hand closing into a fist. “You won’t keep her here.”
“Don’t be too sure.” He’d been thinking about it for some time, and this incident had only brought the decision to a head. “I am tired of having to make appointments for video chats and weekly phone calls.”
The emptiness ate at him, day in and day out. Phone calls were not enough. Seeing her once or twice a year was not enough. Not when she was growing and experiencing life—and all he had was the photos representing all the precious moments he’d missed.
“She’s happy in Atlanta. She has friends and family and school there.”
“She has friends and family here, too. For the first nine years of her life, this was her home, she went to school, and was perfectly fine. If you move back to Buenos Aires, we can both see her and spend time with her.”
“I can’t do that. I have a job.”
“Then let Antonella stay.”
Her eyes widened in panic. “That’s not our arrangement.”
“We never had an arrangement. You left and took her with you. I never had a say.”
“Well, why would you now?” Nadine shot back. “You expect me to just—just leave her here? How can you suggest something like that, especially after I almost lost her?” Disbelief filled her voice.
“I almost lost her, too,” Cortez reminded her in a low voice.
Her face filled with acknowledgement, and perhaps a bit of shame that she had completely ignored the fact that he, too, was still shell-shocked by the possible loss of their only child.
Her gaze dropped to her intertwined hands.
“I saw her get hit. I saw the car smash into the car she was in.”
Cortez sank onto one of the chairs around the island and buried his head in his hands, reliving the real-life nightmare of the accident as it had unfolded in front of him. They were all fine, but he’d been seized by such unimaginable terror, he’d hopped out of the car he was driving while it was still rolling and rushed to get to the mangled sedan carrying Antonella. His uncle, who had been seated beside him, had been the one to apply the brakes to the vehicle to avoid another accident.
A soft hand squeezed his shoulder. She’d moved quietly, or perhaps he’d been so distracted he hadn’t heard her come across to him.
“She’s okay,” Nadine said quietly. Her fingers kneaded his tight shoulder, offering much needed comfort.
Snakin
g a hand around her waist, he pulled her close, and they bent around each other, burying their faces into each other’s necks.
She rubbed her cheek against his stubbled jaw. Perhaps an innocent act, but one that woke up the sleeping longing within him. With a simple twist of his head, the side of his mouth tasted the corner of hers. She released a little whimper, an encouraging sound that made him press his lips more boldly against hers.
This kiss wasn’t like the last one. During the last one, he’d been consumed with hunger and passion, driven by a burning need to possess her. This time he sought solace from the one person who understood how he felt.
Her soft mouth opened and his tongue traced the inside of her upper lip. She moaned and leaned into him, her fingers tightening in the hairs at the back of his head.
He squeezed her closer, pulling her between his legs and locking her in place. Pressed together, chest to chest, the thud of her heart beat against his, and he ached to lose himself inside of her and forget the past. Forget everything.
Cortez grasped Nadine’s arms and lifted his head. Her startled gaze met his, and she licked her mouth—as if savoring the taste of him—forcing a quiet groan from deep in his chest.
“We’re both tired. We don’t want to make a mistake.” He didn’t release her. He couldn’t just yet.
She nodded, struggling to get her breathing back under control. “A mistake. Yes.”
“The stress. The lack of sleep.”
She stepped back and his hands fell away from her arms. Her eyes skirted him and focused on other objects in the kitchen—the island, the glass of water that he’d been drinking.
“Lots of stress. We’re both exhausted. We should go to bed. Not together,” she added hastily. “I mean…separately.”
“Of course.”
Her eyes dipped to his crotch, and he made no move to hide his arousal. Her breath hitched and her eyes darted away again, finding other things to focus on in the room—the refrigerator, the bowl of fruit on the counter.
Still in Love Page 5