It was the last part of it, however, that bothered her.
Avoid bringing shame on the family.
These were modern times, sure, but the Franco clan struck her as a bit old-fashioned. So would the news that one of their favorite sons had fathered a child out of wedlock be greeted as a source of shame, or of celebration?
It was probably a pointless worry, but such things weighed on Lisa’s mind. Especially when the matriarch of that family was busy making pasta primavera right next to her, and knew darn well that the little girl now helping Rafe set the table was her great-granddaughter.
Lisa ached inside, knowing she needed to tell Rafe the truth, but still unable to think of a way—or a time—to do it.
But it had to be done.
No matter what the consequences.
* * *
DINNER WAS SUBLIME. Lisa couldn’t remember the last time she’d had food so delicious.
Grandma Natalie was an amazing cook.
They ate for what seemed like hours, sharing a bottle of wine, Rafe forgoing a glass because he had to work a shift tonight. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Chloe began to yawn and Lisa decided it was time to put her to bed.
“Let’s get you upstairs, hon. You’ve got to wash up and change into your jammies.”
“Can Mr. Rafe take me?”
This provoked a smile. “I don’t see why not,” Rafe said. “But none of this mister, stuff. Just call me Rafe.”
Or Daddy, Lisa almost blurted out, but caught herself just in time. And she half expected Grandma Natalie to say it instead.
Getting to her feet, Lisa said, “We’ll both do it, hon. Make it a party.”
“A party!” Chloe squealed. “Make it party!”
“How about a teeth-brushing contest?” Rafe asked.
“Yea!” Chloe squealed.
Laughing, Rafe got to his feet, then went around the table and scooped Chloe into his arms. “I’ll bet I can get mine cleaner than yours.”
“Uh-uh,” Chloe said.
“We’ll see about that,” Rafe chuckled, then carried her out of the dining room toward the stairs.
Laughing now, Lisa got to her feet and followed, but before she reached the doorway, Grandma Natalie called out to her.
Lisa turned. “Yes?”
“You may not think this is any of my business, child, but does my grandson know who he’s carrying upstairs?”
Lisa’s laugh died and she said, “He will soon, Nonna. I promise. Just as soon as I figure out a way to tell him.”
Beatrice frowned. “Tell him what? Am I missing something?”
Grandma Natalie patiently patted Bea’s hand and returned her attention to Lisa. “Just open your mouth and say the words, child. That’s all it takes.”
Knowing the old woman was right, Lisa nodded solemnly then headed toward the stairs.
Chapter Seventeen
“I made something for you,” Chloe said.
Rafe smiled. “Oh? What is it?”
He was crouched over the bed in what had once been his mother’s bedroom, a small space located near the back of the house. The window overlooked the backyard where Mom’s old swing set still stood, victim to a bit of rot and rust, but gleaming in the moonlight, an old, pleasant memory.
Rafe had spent quite a bit of time on those swings himself.
He pulled the blankets up toward Chloe’s chin as she said, “It’s in my backpack.”
Rafe glanced at Lisa, who stood leaning in the doorway, watching them. There was a look in her eyes that puzzled him. A vague sadness, he thought. Something bothering her.
Undoubtedly thoughts of Sloan. It had to be hard raising a man’s child when that very same man was a threat to you. She undoubtedly saw part of Sloan every time she looked at Chloe’s face.
Rafe didn’t see it, however. He couldn’t bring himself to equate this precious child with Oliver Sloan. She was too innocent, too...beautiful.
Her mother’s beauty, he supposed.
It certainly wasn’t Sloan’s.
“Are you gonna look at it?” Chloe asked.
Rafe snapped out of his thoughts and reached for the backpack hanging over the bedpost—a lime-green frog with more zippered pockets than anyone could ever need, especially a child.
“In here?”
“Uh-huh.”
Rafe unzipped the main pocket and reached inside, pulling out a sheet of paper that had been torn from a coloring book. It was another kitty cat. This one crudely colored pink.
“Do you like it?” Chloe asked.
“I love it,” he said. “But you already gave me a blue one.” Which, he realized, was still folded in the pocket of his uniform jacket in the trunk of his car.
“You said you didn’t want him to get lonely, so I made him a friend.”
For reasons he couldn’t quite understand, Rafe felt a sudden warmth sluice through him. This was, quite possibly, one of the most heartfelt things anyone had ever done for him.
He again felt that unexplained connection to this little girl, and his chest filled with a yearning that came very close to bringing on tears.
He held back. Smiled. Ran a hand along Chloe’s forehead. “Thank you, hon. This is the best present anyone ever gave me.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” Rafe said. Then he heard a quiet sob behind him and swiveled his head to find Lisa turning quickly away from the doorway, heading into the hall.
“Leese?”
She didn’t respond and he felt compelled to go after her, but didn’t want to leave Chloe in a lurch. Instead, he turned back to the girl, smoothed her forehead again, and said, “You’d better get to sleep now, cupcake.”
Chloe smiled. “I like cupcakes.”
“So do I,” Rafe said. “So do I.”
* * *
HE FOUND LISA on the front porch, sitting on the swinging bench that his grandfather had built. The old man had been very proud of that accomplishment. He was a gruff old patrol cop who hated retirement and always had to be doing something with his hands. His death two years ago had been a deep blow to everyone in the family.
Rafe remembered how Lisa had spent a lot of time on this bench the weekend he’d brought her here during college. The Franco clan could be an overwhelming bunch and although she had never admitted it, Rafe sensed that her weekend among them had been plagued by sensory overload.
While Rafe was busy having fun catching up with family, Lisa had been a stranger in a strange land, and that couldn’t have been easy for her. So it wasn’t surprising that she’d spent time out here, trying to gather her thoughts.
And he supposed tonight wasn’t any different. She’d been uprooted and moved out of her house and had to be feeling the stress of her situation. He didn’t know what had triggered her sudden retreat from the bedroom, but he found himself falling into his old rhythms with Lisa, wanting to comfort and protect her.
He sat next to her on the swing, saw that she had a trace of tears in her eyes.
They hadn’t had physical contact except for the hug this morning, and right now Rafe wanted to put his arm around her and pull her close.
But he resisted.
“It wasn’t that long ago,” he said. “You and me sitting here on a night like this, looking up at the sky. Yet it seems like some faded childhood dream.”
Lisa nodded, wiped at her tears. “Were we really as in love as we thought we were?”
Rafe thought about this, but didn’t really need to. He already knew the answer. “I know I was.”
She smiled wistfully. Nodded. “Then what happened, Rafe? Why did we go our separate ways?”
“I’ve thought a lot about that over the last three years,” he said. “I think maybe we were so much in love that it scared us. We were a lot younger then. Not only physically, but emotionally. I guess the thought of settling into some kind of permanent relationship, some happily ever after, didn’t sit well with either one of us.”
He paused, studyin
g her a moment. She was nodding, vaguely, as if seeing that time through different eyes.
“But the thing is, Leese, I’ve always thought it was a mistake. I should never have let you go. I just thought you wanted—”
“Let me go?” she said.
He nodded. “It seemed like what you wanted. So I made up that stupid story about California, to make it easier for you. To let you off the hook.”
Her face opened up in surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” he said. “Why would I be?”
She started laughing now, more tears springing to her eyes. She wiped them with her sleeve. “I don’t believe this. And all this time I thought you were the one who wanted to break up.”
Rafe frowned. “What?”
“I was letting you off the hook. I figured you didn’t want to be tied down to someone.”
Now Rafe started laughing, not quite believing what he was hearing.
“You don’t know how miserable I was,” Lisa said. “There were so many times I wanted to call you, tell you we’d made a mistake, especially after...” She paused, looking like a woman who had nearly dropped a toe on the trigger of a bear trap. “I just never got up the nerve, because I figured the last person you wanted to hear from was me.”
“I felt exactly the same way,” Rafe said. “How stupid are we?”
Now they both laughed, but there was a bittersweet quality to it. Then Rafe sobered, thinking about the little girl who lay upstairs, asleep by now. The little girl who had given him a pink kitty cat to keep the blue one company.
“And look what I missed because of it,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“This’ll probably sound crazy to you, but when I look at your daughter, when I look at Chloe, all I can think is what might have been. She could be my daughter, not Sloan’s. And instead of going through all this nonsense with him, you and I could have been making a home and raising our child.”
Lisa’s face went through a series of shifting emotions, as if she couldn’t quite figure out how to respond. He’d taken a risk, telling her this, but it was the way he felt. And he’d been feeling it since he walked into her living room just a few short hours ago.
He had never been able to put her fully out of his mind, so it was no surprise that he was still in love with her.
Lisa again wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “Rafe, I’ve been looking for a way to tell you this, so I guess it’s best that I just come out and—”
She was cut off by the opening of the front door. Grandma Natalie stepped outside carrying a small tray, breaking the spell, jerking them back to reality.
“You two are looking quite cozy,” she said.
Rafe smiled. “Just like old times.”
Nonna glanced at Lisa as if they were in some sort of secret communication. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked.
That was odd, Rafe thought. Had they been talking about him? And, if so, why?
Then Lisa suddenly said, “No, no, Nonna. You’re fine. We were just talking about the good old days...”
“You’re sure, now?”
“I’m sure,” Lisa said, and Rafe still wondered what the heck was going on between them.
Women and their talk.
But before he could give it too much thought, Grandma Natalie shuffled toward them with the tray, which held two cups of tea and a plate full of what she’d always called apostle’s fingers. The dessert was made of ricotta cheese, sugar and cinnamon, and Rafe had been eating it for as long as he could remember.
“I prepared a treat for you,” Nonna said. “I hope you aren’t too full.”
But Rafe was stuffed after dinner and took this as his cue to stand up. “As much as I don’t want to, I’m gonna have to decline, Nonna. My shift starts in a couple hours and I need to get home to shower and shave.”
“You’re leaving? So soon?”
Rafe smiled. “Duty calls.” He glanced at Lisa. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back.”
He wanted to lean down and kiss her, especially after the conversation they’d just had. But agreeing that what they’d done in the past was a mistake didn’t necessarily translate into how Lisa felt here and now. He sensed a hesitation in her, some kind of inner turmoil. But they’d have to finish their talk at another time. Hopefully soon.
So he merely nodded to her, said good-night, then turned to take the steps down to his car. He was only halfway through the turn when Grandma Natalie took hold of his elbow.
“Wait, now, Rafael. Don’t let an old woman chase you away. You two have so much to talk about.”
“I’d like to stay, Nonna, but duty calls.”
“Duty, duty, duty,” she said. “That’s all I ever heard from your grandfather. Why is everyone in this family so dedicated to duty?”
She was one to talk. In her early years she had been a probation officer for the state, and quite devoted to the job.
Rafe shrugged. “I guess we’re all just wired that way.”
“You can’t just stay for a few more minutes? Maybe the young lady has something to—”
“That’s okay, Nonna,” Lisa said. “I’ll still be here when he’s off work. I should probably be getting ready for bed.”
Rafe still sensed that something was going on here, something he wasn’t privy to, but he merely nodded again, said another good-night.
Then he took the steps down to the drive and got in his car.
* * *
AS THEY WATCHED him drive away, Grandma Natalie said, “Well, child? Did I just ruin your perfect moment?”
“I don’t know if there is one, Nonna. Now probably wasn’t the right time anyway.”
“Oh, nonsense. The boy needs to know he has blood. Every man does. It isn’t fair to keep him in the dark any longer. That girl isn’t getting any younger and every minute is precious. She needs a father. One who will love her and cherish her and take care of her.”
“And do you think Rafe’s that man?” Lisa asked.
Grandma Natalie scowled. “What kind of a silly question is that? You know he is.”
Lisa nodded. She was right, of course. Having all these doubts about how Rafe would react to the news was nothing more than her own insecurities showing through. And as much as she’d wanted to tell him, she had almost welcomed the interruption from Grandma Natalie.
Why was she making this so complicated?
Maybe her problem was not that she was afraid Rafe would reject Chloe. Based on how they were interacting, based on what he had just told her, that seemed unlikely.
But they had spent the past few moments talking about what could have been, not what was. And while Rafe might not reject Chloe—would he reject her?
Was it too late for them to paint that perfect portrait of a happy family?
Her fear of the answer was, in itself, an answer to the question she had asked herself earlier today.
Was she still in love with him?
Of course she was.
She had never stopped loving him.
Sitting here on this porch swing, talking about the silly mistake they had made—believing the other wanted to be set free—Lisa had felt that old chemistry ignite. For a moment she had thought Rafe was about to kiss her, but he had shied away from it.
The question was why?
Was it possible that he had indeed moved on?
Was it possible that he would never feel the way he’d felt back in college?
The way she felt now?
Was he merely caught up in the nostalgia of the moment, a feeling that would eventually fade, leaving nothing of substance in its wake?
As usual, she was overthinking. A habit she’d had since childhood.
But she couldn’t help herself. Any more than she could help the knot in her stomach. The fear that what they’d once had could never again be duplicated.
Chapter Eighteen
The moment Rafe parked in the underground garage, he felt something wrong.
<
br /> It wasn’t a feeling he could quantify. More of an animal instinct, really. But it permeated the air around him as he climbed from the car.
Was someone watching him?
He thought about the look Oliver Sloan had given him outside the processing center. Sloan surrounded by a group of reporters, but locking eyes with Rafe, telling him, Don’t think you’re gonna get away with this, hotshot.
Could Sloan be stupid enough to have sent a couple goons to Rafe’s apartment building?
Did he think that Rafe could be so easily intimidated?
If so, he was sadly mistaken. Rafe was long past the time in his life when someone like Sloan could scare him. And he’d already proven that Sloan’s goons were ineffectual thugs who were all posture and no follow-through. Rafe’s skills in Krav Maga had taken care of that, and they surely would again.
Not that Rafe felt he was anything special. But one thing his martial arts classes had taught him was that there was never a reason to feel helpless in the arms of danger. On the contrary, if you stayed smart and acted decisively, 99 percent of dangerous situations could be neutralized in a split second.
And if that last 1 percent required deadly force, then so be it. Rafe had never had any desire to kill a man, but he wouldn’t hesitate to use that option if the situation required it.
He stood by his car and scanned the parking lot. His apartment building wasn’t huge, and the lot itself was small, full of narrow spaces packed with a couple dozen cars. Entry required a key card, which took you past a rolling steel gate, but such safeguards could be easily hacked by savvy people, either through electronics or simple social engineering.
But as he searched the dimly lit, cement enclosure, paying special attention to the dark pockets behind the parked cars, he saw nothing of concern. No movement. No subtle shifting of shadows.
Yet that feeling of being watched didn’t fade. If someone was watching him, he was very, very good.
Locking up the Mustang, Rafe went to his trunk and retrieved his uniform, holster and Glock. Bundling up the uniform and holster, he tucked them under his arm and kept the Glock in his hand, just in case.
With another quick glance around him, he crossed from his car to the elevator about ten yards away, feeling the hairs on the back of neck rise as he pressed the button and waited.
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