A Natural Father

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Jesus. I can’t believe this, Rosie.”

  He walked past her to their bedroom. Tears burned at the back of her eyes but for some reason they didn’t fall. She took a deep breath, then another. Reason told her to give him a moment to calm down, but instinct drove her to chase him, to throw herself at his feet and explain and beg forgiveness.

  Andrew was at the wardrobe with an armful of clothes when she entered.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Then she saw the open suitcase on the bed behind him.

  “Please don’t. Oh God. Can’t we talk about this?” she begged.

  Andrew tossed the clothes into the case.

  “Now you want to talk?”

  “I’m sorry. I know what I did was wrong but I was so scared and I didn’t know how to raise it with you. I just needed to buy some time, that’s all.”

  He didn’t stop throwing clothes in the case. Far more than he needed for one night, she noted. Bile surged up the back of her throat.

  “You don’t want kids,” he said flatly.

  “That’s not it,” she said.

  He nailed her with a look. God, even now she had trouble getting the truth out of her mouth.

  “I don’t know,” she said more honestly. “I have reservations.”

  “Right.”

  He crossed to the chest of drawers and began tossing underwear and socks into the open case. He didn’t say anything more, and she watched him with growing panic.

  “Please, Andrew, say something,” she said.

  “I don’t know what to say to you right now. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

  “I’m not saying I definitely don’t want kids. I just need more time to get used to the idea.”

  “This is not about whether we have kids or not, Rosie!” he said, anger in every line of his body. “You lied to me. You looked me in the eye and lied to me every freaking day. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, because she could think of nothing else to say. There was no excuse or explanation for her actions. Reasons, yes, but nothing that made what she did more palatable or forgivable.

  “I thought you were my best friend. I thought we were going to grow old together, that I could trust you with anything,” he said.

  “You can. I am,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She gasped at his stark denial. He zipped the case shut.

  “Please don’t go. We can work this out. We just need to keep talking,” she said.

  He hefted the case off the bed.

  “Not tonight.”

  “Please. Please don’t go.”

  They’d never spent a night apart because of an argument. They’d never even gone to bed angry. The thought of letting him walk out the door made her dizzy all over again.

  “I can’t be with you right now,” Andrew said.

  He stood in front of her, the case in one hand. She looked into his face, tried to summon the words that would make everything all right. Nothing came.

  She stepped to one side and he moved past her. She trailed him to the front door.

  “Where will you go?” she asked again.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Can you at least call me and let me know where you’re staying?”

  “Fine.”

  He could barely look at her. She reached for him, needing to touch him. He stiffened as her hands found the lapels on his jacket.

  “I love you, Andrew. Please believe that I never meant to hurt you,” she said.

  He just looked at her until she let her arms fall.

  She watched him walk down the path to the carport. He threw his case in the backseat and started the car. Then he was reversing down the driveway. And then he was driving off into the night.

  She stood on the threshold well after the echo of the engine had died away.

  He’d gone. He’d really gone.

  Panic and fear and regret and hurt threatened to choke her. She barely made it to the bathroom before she lost her dinner to the toilet bowl. Her anniversary pearls clanked against the porcelain as she rested her elbows on the seat.

  What have you done? What have you done?

  And how would she ever make it up to him?

  Her mouth bitter with bile, she sank to the floor. She opened her mouth on a soundless cry as the tears came.

  What have you done?

  * * *

  THE HOUSE WAS FILLED with savory cooking smells by the time the doorbell rang for the first time. Dom answered it and greeted their first guests and soon the house was filled with the sound of laughter and conversation. Like Dom, Lucy worked the room, talking to her clients, introducing people to each other, making sure everyone had a good time.

  One of the last arrivals was Dom’s father and mother, both looking uncomfortable in their Sunday best. She saw the surprise on Dom’s face when he spotted them. He hadn’t expected them to come. She made sure they both had drinks—good Italian red wine—and introduced them to one of her favorite customers.

  Vaguely she was aware that Rosie and Andrew were late. Around 9:00, her cell phone beeped with a text message from her sister:

  Not feeling well. Sorry. Catch up tomorrow. Good luck.

  It was unlike her sister to text instead of call. And Rosie had seemed fine when she saw her earlier in the day. Lucy wondered for a moment if she should call home to make sure everything was okay. Then one of her customers approached her to ask some questions about the site and she pushed her sister to the back of her mind. Andrew would take care of Rosie if she was feeling under the weather.

  As the night wore on, the feeling of nervous anticipation in Lucy’s blood settled. Their clients were having a good time, and by 10:00 almost half of them had signed up for Market Fresh’s Internet-based service, well beyond her and Dom’s target for the evening. Dom’s father had overcome his social nerves and was holding forth on the patio, and a hum of convivial goodwill filled Dom’s house.

  They’d pulled it off.

  At 10:30, she glanced across the room and caught Dom’s eye. He smiled and raised his champagne glass. She raised her orange juice, pulling a sad face to let him know she’d rather have bubbles. He laughed and something undeniable caught her in the chest.

  He was so beautiful. So wonderful.

  And he loved her.

  Unexpected tears stung her eyes as the full import of his declaration hit her. This man—this incredible, amazing man—loved her. He’d shown her in a million different ways how much she meant to him. He’d saved her business, helped save her baby’s life, stood by her and supported her even when she pushed him away.

  She blinked rapidly. Across the room, he frowned. She watched as he put down his drink, preparing to come to her side. Quickly she shook her head, gesturing for him to stay where he was. If he came to her now, she didn’t think she would be able to trust herself.

  He stopped, the frown still on his face. She forced a smile and turned to the nearest customer. Slowly, the rush of emotion ebbed. She told herself it had simply been the excitement of the evening. Nothing more.

  Her feet were aching by the time they ushered the last guests from the house. Dom’s father went smiling, full of bonhomie after an evening of playing the expert. Most of their clients went home happy, full of food and wine, clutching brochures for Market Fresh’s Web site.

  Dom sighed as he shut the door on the last customer and leaned against it.

  “Done.”

  “Like a dog’s dinner,” she said.

  He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think I have kissed so much butt in my entire life.”

  She laughed. “At least it was for a good cause.”

  They returned to the living room and surveyed the damage: glasses and plates of half-eaten food everywhere, platters of finger food on every flat surface. The caterers had left over an hour ago and would only return to collect their glassware and serving platters in a few days’ t
ime.

  “Oh boy,” she said.

  Dom shook his head.

  “Forget about it. You go home and I’ll take care of this tomorrow.”

  She toed her shoes off. “If we at least do some of it now, it won’t be so bad,” she said.

  She crossed to the kitchen and started to empty wineglasses into the sink.

  “Lucy, go home,” he said with a laugh. “What is it with Italian women? They never know when to stop.”

  He was behind her, and he reached over her shoulder to pluck a glass from her hand.

  “I want to help,” she said.

  The truth was, she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She didn’t want the night to be over. Which was stupid, because she had to go home. The alternative was…well, reckless, to say the least.

  “We’ve got a ton of stuff to go over tomorrow. You can help by getting a good night’s sleep,” he said.

  She half turned toward him, then turned away again. She couldn’t say what she wanted to say while looking at him. She reached for the edge of the counter and gripped it tightly.

  “What if I don’t feel like sleeping?” she asked.

  She closed her eyes, immediately wishing the words unsaid.

  She had to be crazy. She was pregnant, huge. Dom may have kissed her once and told her that he was interested in something more and maybe even indicated that he might love her but she’d gone from round to bulging since then.

  There was a profound silence. She heard Dom take a deep breath.

  “Lucy.”

  She knew she had to face him. She let go of the counter and slowly turned.

  He was standing very close and her stomach brushed his hip. Finally she met his eyes.

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” he asked.

  “Yes. If you think it means I’m asking if you’d like me to stay the night. If you’re still interested, that is.”

  He went very still. She had no idea what was going on behind his eyes. She could feel heat burning its way up her neck and into her cheeks.

  “You know how I feel about you,” he said. His voice was very low, very deep.

  “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, sort of,” she said. Her hands fluttered pointlessly in the air between them. As though he needed more clues that she had no idea what she was doing. Even at the best of times she was no femme fatale. Now, tonight…she felt about as sleek and sexy as a Volkswagen.

  His mouth quirked into a little smile.

  “Maybe I should repeat myself,” he said.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth and he leaned forward. She closed her eyes as his lips found hers. Warm and firm, his mouth moved over hers. Then his tongue was in her mouth and she was tasting heat and wine and need. Her hands found his shoulders, curling into his collar in case he tried to pull away before she’d had her fill of him. She angled her head to give him more access, but he pulled away from her and broke the kiss.

  They were both panting. They stared at each other across the few inches that separated them.

  “This isn’t just tonight for me, Lucy,” he said.

  His voice had a tremble in it. It gave her the courage she needed to take the leap of faith he was asking of her. He’d asked her to trust him. She did. He’d told her he wasn’t going anywhere. He hadn’t. And he’d told her he cared. That he loved her. Tonight, she chose to believe him.

  “I know that. This isn’t just about tonight for me, either,” she said. “I don’t know why this has happened in my life right now. The timing couldn’t be worse. I’m not exactly at my best. I’m definitely not a great catch. But I can’t look at you and not want to touch you. And I can’t stop thinking about you. And I’m sick of trying to be sensible when so much of me wants to believe….”

  His face softened and his gaze traveled over her features.

  “Believe,” he said, then he kissed her again.

  This time his arms slid around her, pulling her close. Her belly pressed into his, but she forgot all self-consciousness as need long denied swept through her.

  It had been a long time since she’d felt sexy or attractive. A long time since she’d allowed herself to be a woman and not a mother-to-be. A long time since she’d been with anyone except Marcus.

  But the way Dom kissed…He made her knees weak, stole the air from her lungs. Brought all the forgotten parts of her body roaring back to life.

  His mouth slid from her mouth to kiss a trail up her cheekbone to her ear. She shivered as he circled the curve of her ear with his tongue, then sucked lightly on her neck. She let her head drop back and moaned as he pressed openmouthed kisses to her throat again and again. It felt so good, he felt so good.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders, her fingers digging into the big muscles of his back as Dom began to kiss his way down her neck. One of his hands slid up her side to cup her breast, and she shuddered as white-hot desire raced through her.

  Had she ever felt so hungry for a man’s touch? Had she ever been so desperate to feel skin against skin?

  His thumb grazed her nipple once, twice. She grabbed his shoulders, not sure how much longer she could support her own weight.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Dom murmured as he kissed his way down into her cleavage. “So beautiful.”

  She bit her lip as he nuzzled the neckline of her dress then tugged the fabric to one side to reveal the stretch lace of her black bra. She closed her eyes as his hand closed over her, warm and large, then he was pushing the lace to one side and his hot mouth was on her breast.

  “Oh!” she said. “That feels so good.”

  She felt him smile against her skin. Then he lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

  “Come to bed?” he asked. There was still doubt in his eyes. She liked that, liked that not for a second did he take her for granted.

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  HIS HAND CLASPED hers and he tugged her after him as he walked to his bedroom. The bedside lamp was on, the light soft and golden across the bed. He pushed the door shut, then pulled her into his arms again.

  Perhaps it was being in the bedroom, or perhaps it was simply the growing knowledge that soon they would be naked with each other and her body would be revealed in all its rounded glory, but she was self-conscious this time, more aware of where her stomach pressed against him.

  He kissed her long and slow, then slid a hand onto her breasts again. He drove her crazy rubbing his thumb across her nipples through her dress, but not for a moment did she stop worrying and thinking. After a few minutes, Dom kissed his way to her ear, one of his hands sliding to her nape, the other to the small of her back.

  “What’s wrong?” he murmured, his question more vibration than spoken word.

  She considered lying, bluffing. But she trusted him. If this was going to happen, it was going to be honest, right from the start.

  “I’m nervous. I haven’t done this for a while. And things are kind of…different.”

  His hand slid around from her back to rest on her belly.

  “You mean this?”

  “Yes. That tiny, insignificant little thing.”

  “You’re worried about the baby?” he asked.

  “No. No, the doctor said sex was okay. As long as it’s not hanging off the chandelier or something,” she said. This was so hard. But she wanted him, wanted this.

  “I’m worried you won’t want me once you see me without my clothes on,” she confessed in a rush.

  He stilled for a second, then pulled back so he could look into her eyes.

  “Never going to happen,” he said.

  “But still,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “It might.”

  He smiled slightly.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you, do you? Since we were kids. And in the past few years, so much that it made me feel guilty even though my marriage was already history. I’ve been dreaming about getting you naked for years, Lucy Basso. And this—” he caressed her baby bump “—only makes yo
u more gorgeous.”

  She nodded. She wanted to believe him. Realistically, there was no way to get past this other than to forge ahead, as it were. If she took off her clothes and he ran a mile, she’d have her answer.

  She turned and offered him her back.

  “Unzip me,” she said.

  “Lucy…”

  “Please.”

  Silence for a moment, then she felt the tug as he unzipped her dress. He pressed a kiss onto her shoulder, then her nape as he slipped the dress off her shoulders. She held her breath as he helped the dress slide down her arms. She pulled her arms free and felt the slither of silk against her skin as the dress fell to the floor.

  Dom’s hands landed on her shoulders as though he knew this was a big moment for her. She closed her eyes and took a step forward. His hands fell away. From behind, she knew, she looked almost normal, apart from a little extra weight she’d put on around her hips and backside. She held her breath and turned to face him. She knew what he was seeing—her breasts stretching out a black lace bra, the matching panties riding low beneath her bump. And in between, her belly, round and undeniable.

  “Lucy. You want to open your eyes?” Dom asked, his voice full of gentle amusement.

  “I don’t know. Do you still want to do this?” she asked.

  “More than ever.”

  She opened her eyes then and saw the naked desire in his face.

  “You need more proof?” he asked.

  He stepped closer and took her hand. Holding her eye, he slid her hand to the front of his pants. Her fingers curved instinctively around the hard length she found there. He felt very big and very erect.

  No chance he was faking that.

  “Good enough?” he asked.

  “Hell yeah,” she said.

  He laughed. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” he said.

  “Well, you got one anyway.” She pressed her palm against him. Soon, they would be naked and all this hardness would be inside her….

  “You’re wearing way too much clothing,” she said.

  She wasn’t sure where her sudden boldness came from, but she was too far gone to care. He wanted her. She wanted him. He was a man, and she was a woman. A pregnant woman, yes, but still a woman.