by Mara Lynne
Stroking her back, Hunter starts the conversation. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable tonight. I just don’t have the ability to control myself when you’re so damn sexy, hot, and mouthwatering…”
Warmth blooms across her cheeks.
“I just have to do something, or I’d go insane,” he adds.
“Just don’t speak of such things when in front of Mom and Dad, okay?” she replies, burying her face deep into his chest.
“Are your parents the traditional conservatives?”
“I guess so,” she answers. “It never came to me to discuss with them my sexual life. Well, I have a nonexistent sexual history, so there was nothing to share about at the first place. And I just don’t feel comfortable doing it with my parents just a door away from us. I don’t know when I’ll ever be ready to be open about it to everyone.”
“My sweet…” he says as he fondles the corners of her face. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I am not anymore, Hunter. I just did not expect that adapting to change will be like this. I’ve been living my entire life with a goal in my head, alone, and with just a few friends. Being with a man, particularly be sexually involved with someone, was not a choice for me. This whole thing with you is new to me. I’m working on it, though. You wouldn’t have to worry.”
“I’m happy about that.” He bends down and kisses her on the forehead. “Angel, I want you to trust me enough to tell me what you want. Because I don’t like not knowing what you want. I’m afraid you’ll wake up one day realizing that you are unhappy with everything we’ve done. Honestly, I was worried when I knew about Damien and your past. I was afraid of things, of you leaving me, of not having you beside me. I don’t know how it would be like without you. And I am still afraid…”
“Hunter, I’ll tell you what I want.” She props her elbow on the side of the bed and looks at the man with utmost sincerity in her eyes.
“You.”
Chapter 28 – Genetic Folly
“Boss, I found out something about the packages,” Paul wrote in his text message. “Can I call you?”
Hunter hurries to ring Paul the moment he received the message. Meanwhile, Sarah is teaching Angel some Colombian dish which she taught herself for weeks.
Hunter stares into the sea while he waits for Paul to pick up the phone.
“Mr. Stone, sir?”
“I want it complete and precise, Paul.” He drinks from the bottle of beer he is holding as waves of crystal blue water laps his feet.
“The packages came from a sender named Ms. Candice Gregory, sir.”
Candice?
Why would Candice Gregory send such thought-provoking packages to both him and Angel? Is she trying to make them feel jealous of what she and Damien are having? Is this some sort of a weird practical joke to make them feel bad about something he and Angel don’t have at the moment?
“It’s not only that, sir. I chanced upon Dr. Grace Kendall’s office to find out more about Ms. Gregory’s pregnancy. Due to some ethical and legal constraints, I had to resort to unlikely measures,” Paul says. “It appears that Ms. Gregory is not pregnant of Damien Etheridge’s son.”
“What?”
Standing like a statue on a flat bed of white sand, he feels a fringe of lace spreading over the cold beach, rampaging through the shore like little crabs on a race. A dull mist unfolds onshore, eradicating the romantic view of tens of islands surrounding his private island, which usually looks majestic in the morning and melancholy at night. The weather has been unfavorable for two consecutive days in this country, and if this continues, his plan to tour Angel around the islands will be a failure.
“Are you sure about this, Paul?”
“Positive, sir. I have Dr. Kendall’s paternity test results to back up my claim.”
“Bullshit!” The curse comes out of his mouth in a whisper. His jaw tightened and his teeth clenched. “I knew it! That woman only wants money! I should have known better!”
“Perhaps, sir, you’re right about that,” Paul replies. “Why else would she lie to everyone about the true identity of her child’s father?”
Breathing deeply, he finds himself contemplating whether he should feel remorse for his brother. The man has been conned, forced to wed a woman he does not love because of a responsibility that’s not even his in the first place. Despite the animosity between them, concern for his brother arises. His brotherly duty is making itself known once again. “Does Damien even know about this?” he asks.
“Yes, he does, if my intel is correct, sir. Mr. Etheridge has been informed by your great doctor friend, who was the one who requested Dr. Kendall to perform the test.”
“Eric? What does Eric have to do with this?”
“I’m afraid I failed to gather information on that story, sir. I will look into that right away.”
“Never mind. I’ll ask Eric myself when I get back.”
How about Damien? He wonders what Damien had done about this. With his usual idiocy and recklessness, he will not think twice about shaming Candice. He knows him very well. He’s not going to feel any form of sympathy for her or reluctance to consider the woman’s state. He could be sending her away right now or could have his evil mother punish the poor woman.
Devastated?
No. Damien will never be devastated by the news. He could bet his life that this happening has actually relieved him. Damien could be celebrating right now, or worse, devising a plot to reclaim Angel. Now, he’s got no burden to worry about. He could now do whatever he wants, to get whoever he wants.
“Any news about Damien?”
Hunter hears Paul coughing harshly as though phlegm has been stuck in his throat for ages.
“Sir, according to my mole, the wedding pushes through. For the past two days, Mr. Etheridge has not done anything anomalous and scandalous.”
“Jesus!” A striking pain on his forehead starts to radiate to his back, demanding to be felt. “What’s he trying to do? Is he trying to make a statement? Still marrying the woman who conned him?”
This is laughable! Outrageous! Hilarious!
Has his brother lost a screw in his head? Has he become so desperate to not even think about the consequences of marrying Candice Gregory?
If it’s about the enormous media coverage this wedding story has so far achieved, good God! Hunter is willing to spend millions just to salvage Damien’s future. This is not about family reputation or keeping a clean name. Nobody’s running for president. Why worry about what other people would think about him?
“Astonishingly, that seems to be what your brother intends to do, sir.”
“You know what, Paul?” He moves his head sideways to ease the stiffness around his neck, moving his phone to the other ear. “I don’t think I want to stick my nose on this. I don’t want to even have an opinion about Damien’s stupidity.”
“Er—sir?”
“This is enough. Let him have his way. I don’t fucking care whatever he does to his life. It’s his, and I don’t give a damn.”
Jesus! How could he be mad and sorry and laughing at the same time? Is this a joke or what?
Indeed, Damien’s screwed his own life. Damien fucking screwed his life! Seriously, the boy needs some serious spanking. Marrying someone who wants to get her little fingers around his neck and pocket his money? Candice is suicide. Now that he’s one hundred percent sure that the baby isn’t his, why take the risk of letting someone into his life who would most likely murder him in his sleep for money?
“Sir, you might want to hear me out…”
“Unbelievable…” he murmurs to himself. “Yes, what is it, Paul?”
“Er… sir… I think you should know the most important part of this.” There’s a brief silence before Paul continues. “Are you sitting on a chair, sir?”
“Cut the crap, Paul, and tell me.”
“The baby’s father… Mr. Stone, sir…”
Then another second of awkward mumbling follows. P
aul seems to be struggling to find the appropriate words.
“Mr. Stone, the baby’s father is… you.”
Two. Three times, Hunter flickers his eyes.
He shakes his head lightly. The pain is gone now, and his ears don’t seem to be blocked not to hear clearly what Paul said.
“You are the biological father, Mr. Stone…” the man repeats on the other line. He is Paul, his most trusted assistant—a good employee, a loving father, and a devoted husband. But right now, he wants him kicked out of his job, sent to the streets begging for alms. If Paul got this information wrong, Hunter would not hesitate to act on these plans for his otherwise dedicated and brilliant worker.
“Mr. Stone, sir?”
Yes. He’s hearing him clearly. He’s just purposely refusing to talk.
The waves roll onshore smoothly despite the prowling storm. Strong winds and torrential rain might hit land in a few hours, but it’s not what’s keeping his head underwater.
“I’m going to kill you Paul when you get this all wrong.” His words sting with threat.
“Forgive me, sir, but I will have to live to see my sons get to college.”
“Fuck!” Clenching his phone with his hand, he threw a punch on the air and begins cursing in different languages. He wanted to cast the phone into the sea and let the monsters below eat it. He wanted to smack his head into the nearest tree he finds and let physical pain overwhelm him just so he forgets what Paul just said. “Bullshit!”
He mentally counts from one to ten. When he was a child, whenever he’s angry or upset about something, he does this little trick. It never fails to calm him.
Right… He’s the baby’s father. He got that.
Yes… He wouldn’t dare question his sexual relationship with Candice. He would not even dare lie about that. She was his last girlfriend before Angel came. He fucked her multiple times even if he’s already attracted to someone else—to Angel. But he has always been careful. Where and when did he go wrong this time?
He searched his head for his memories of Candice. He has to find the missing puzzle piece. How could he be the father of her child when he’s always fucked her with a condom on his pride? How could this be happening? Maybe the tests were wrong. Maybe Dr. Kendall did something anomalous in the process? Maybe she was paid to tamper the results.
Right. Mary Etheridge is ruthless enough to make an honorable and professional doctor lie. The woman could have intervened to protect her boy.
No. This just does not make sense.
He’s becoming irrational and in denial.
Then, from somewhere in the deepest chambers of his brain, a strand of forgotten memory breaks free and finds the light. Something in him wanted an answer, and now, by divine intervention, he got what he wanted.
Three months ago, in his trip to Cardiff, he was reunited with Candice over a night of tequilas and a game of Trivial Pursuit. He remembers clearly how she bested him in his hotel suite, winning the game and having him on the bed. But she said she was on pills. Yes, she told him she’s in one, and so… it happened. He had sex with the woman all for a risque game—unprotected.
Who knew Einstein was once offered the Israeli presidency!
When things start to get in order in his head, he tells Paul in a deep, cold, and dark tone, “Send my plane tomorrow. I expect the weather to be good. If it’s not, do something—anything to take me out of here.”
He’s got business to deal with in Jersey.
***
“Must you go?” Sadness fills her voice.
He does not want to leave her, but there’s something he must do back in America. Letting her join him is not an option, either. Anything he might discover there could destroy everything they have. No, he would not let anything or anyone destroy them—not Candice, nor the baby.
With the fire lit and the room dim, the two of them lay on the carpet where large pillows surround them as their bodies warm each other. Hunter presses his face on her nape and finds himself drowning in her sweet smell. Her hair feels soft and nice. Her little body demands to be held and embraced tightly. The rain has stopped, and the night sky has regained its glory.
“I must,” he softly answers.
“Investors?”
“Yep,” he replies. “Major investors. I’m sorry I have to cut my vacation short. I would love to stay, babe. You know that.”
Why wouldn’t he just tell Angel? a small part of his head asks.
What? Tell her ‘Hey babe, it turns out I got Candice pregnant?’ No way.
Angel will be furious, and he could not risk her trust. She’s been through a lot of hurt and pain already, and telling her this, would break her heart.
He should take things slow.
Think.
Operate silently.
And solve it in the most discrete way possible.
Then tell her.
He would not lie to her, nor keep this thing from her for a long time. He’s going to tell her, but just not now.
What will he do to Candice when he sees her? How is he going to solve this? Apparently, he has no answers, yet there’s no way he’d let the situation trap him into making a choice. There are no choices to pick from—there’s only Angel and the life he’ll have with her.
He’s going back home to fix this.
How? He does not know yet.
Chapter 29 – The Fisherman
Hunter left early in the morning, but that did not keep Angel in low spirits. The weather is good and warm, and it’s just perfect for a beach picnic. The rain last night brought freshness and glow to the trees and plants. The sea is now free of the debris she saw floating in the sea the first time she laid her eyes on it on the morning light.
Everything in Guatape is picturesque. No wonder her dad has always been in a good mood. His health has never been better. The air and the privacy this place offers is keeping her family happy and content. They found a home here.
Sandwiches and freshly squeezed orange juice were easy to make, so she was finished in no time. By ten in the morning, picnic was over, and Sarah and Angel hurried back home to prepare lunch.
“Do you know where Dad has gone to?”
“He might be fishing,” Sarah answers.
“Fishing?”
“Let your old man spend his time on worthwhile things. The local fishermen have become his friends already. They even bring us freshly caught fish, sweetie. Tuna, salmon… It depends.”
That’s a pretty helpful therapy, she thought, meeting new people and creating new bonds with them. At least her parents would have help whenever they need to.
“There’s Mrs. Larson, a good friend and the villa’s caretaker. She lives a few miles from us, but she visits once in a while,” Sarah says.
“Let’s invite her for dinner some time, Mom. I would like to meet her.”
“Sure. I’ll contact her later.”
The kitchen door squeaks open, and George comes in with his straw hat almost falling off his head and his sleeves and pants rolled up. In his arms are wooden baskets filled with fish and some leafy vegetables.
“Did the locals give you those again?” Sarah’s eyes almost fall off their sockets. The refrigerator is still packed with presents from last week, and they are far from consuming them all. They rarely go to the public market because of their generous neighbors. “Sometimes, George, we just have to say no.
“I can’t help it, dear. They’re so nice. I hate to hurt their feelings.” George reasons out while Angel is helping him unload the basket.
“And what do you think we should do with them?”
“I have an idea.” Angel cuts in. “Let’s invite all your friends for a meal. Cook everything we have here and have fun. I would really love to meet these wonderful people, Mom, Dad.”
A huge smile erupts on George’s face. “Did you hear your daughter, Sarah? She says we’re going to have a party! Wouldn’t it be fun?” He kisses Angel on the cheeks and leaves for the shower to clean himself.
>
“That man!” Sarah hisses and turns to Angel. “We will need all the help we can muster. Parties in here are like festivals, sweetie. We’re not just going to feed two families but a village of happy and loud people.”
“We’ll find help, Mom. Maybe Mrs. Larson could help,” she tells her as she begins to clear the fridge of some spoiled food. Some vegetables are already rotting.
“Perhaps. Maybe I could ask Carina and Lucia to help us. They live in the neighboring isles, and they’re good friends. They have huge families, and they could be of great help for the preparation. The best part is, they’re very much familiar with Colombian tradition,” she eagerly says. “I heard La Isla Bailando is occupied now. Maybe we can invite our new neighbors. I know the hardships of being the newcomers, sweetie. They will thank me if I help them get introduced to the people here.”
“La Isla Bailando? Do you mean that huge island we could see from our bedroom’s window?”
“Yes. That one!”
“How are you going to invite them, Mom? I’m sure the new occupants are still busy settling in.”
Sarah creases her forehead and thinks for a while.
“I’ll let George work his magic. The man knows how to expand his connections.”
“Now, that’s fine.” Standing up, she shows Sarah a handful of rotten cabbages and lettuce. She then walks over to the bin and bid good riddance to them. “I’m going to go for a walk, Mom.”
“When are we having the party, dear?”
“When we got all the help we need,” Angel replies as she reaches for her hat and shawl from the track.
“Be back at noon, okay?”
***
Her feet leave marks on the sand, but as much as she enjoys watching the trail she has created, it’s the tiny crabs that crawl along the shoreline that caught her attention. They’re racing towards the salty water after they creep out of the tiny holes they made in the sand. The island is large enough to be covered by an unadulterated expanse of forest which makes the villa small in the eyes of any visitors. Tropical fruit trees stretch through the beach and some of which are already ripe. They would make a good fresh salad for the party.