Fatal Scandal: Book Eight of the Fatal Series
Page 33
“You’re not?”
He shook his head. “I’m not in love with her, but I am in love with you.”
“Avery, please don’t say what you think I need to hear. Please tell me the truth.”
“I came here because you deserved the truth, and it’s long overdue.” He linked their fingers and brought their joined hands to cover his heart. “You told me once you’d waited a long time to meet someone you liked enough to spend the rest of your life with. I have too. I’m almost forty. I’m settled in my career, and I’m ready to take the next step with you and the baby. If you’ll have me.”
“What’re you saying?”
He got up from the step and dropped to his knees in front of her.
Shelby gasped and stopped trying to keep the tears from streaming down her face.
“Shelby Lynn Faircloth, I love you, I’ll love our baby. Would you please do me the enormous honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes,” she said on a sob as she hurled herself into his arms. “Yes, Avery. I love you too. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“I’ll make you happy, Shelby. I promise.”
Since she knew she couldn’t ask for anything more, she decided to let him do just that.
* * *
On Saturday, Sam, Nick and Scotty boarded Air Force Two for the short flight from Andrews Air Force Base to Newark, New Jersey. Aware of his carbon footprint and how much bigger it had gotten lately, Nick had wanted to drive, but the request had been declined by the Secret Service for reasons that hadn’t been shared with him. It seemed wasteful to take the big plane on a thirty-minute flight, but because of the way Brant had bent all the rules for him when Sam was in trouble, Nick ceded to Brant’s wishes this time.
Andy had gone up the day before to meet with the lawyer for Tony D’Alessandro to make sure everything was set for today. They were meeting Tony and his lawyer at a restaurant two blocks from the boardwalk. Nick had suggested Italian food because it was Scotty’s favorite.
The investigator had uncovered a perfectly ordinary life. Tony had worked as a waiter in a number of the fine dining establishments in the casinos. He had no criminal record and was divorced with no children. Nick had no idea what to expect from this meeting, and he wouldn’t be able to breathe comfortably until they were on their way home with a signed release of parental rights.
“This is so cool,” Scotty said, taking in the sitting room and office space that made up the vice president’s quarters located in the front portion of the modified Boeing 757. He went to sit behind the desk and tried to look vice presidential as he took a pretend phone call on the line that was hooked in to the White House.
“Don’t push any buttons,” Nick told him. “You don’t want to start a war or something.”
“Could I really do that from here?”
“I don’t think so, but I’m not a hundred percent sure.”
“Shouldn’t you know that?”
“Look into it for me, will you?”
“I’ll get right on that.”
Nick was happy to see Scotty excited about the plane rather than upset about the reason for the trip, which had kept him quiet and withdrawn for most of the week. Sam and Nick had been so concerned about Scotty that Nick had made a call to Mrs. Littlefield, Scotty’s former guardian at the state home for children. She’d assured him that Scotty was processing the latest development in his own way and would bounce back the way he always did once the meeting was behind them.
Nick was counting on that. He hated to see his son worried or out of sorts.
It had been an odd week with Sam at home on sick leave while she recovered, Shelby off on her spontaneous vacation and Scotty stressed out about meeting his biological father—all while Nick went to work every day and waited to hear whether Nelson was going to accept his offer to resign. At his lunch yesterday with Nelson, the president had been cordial and welcoming and there had been no talk of Nick’s resignation. Nor had there been any talk of what purpose Nelson would like his vice president to serve within the administration.
In light of that, Nick planned to take Christina’s advice and forge his own path, separate from the president’s, since that seemed to be what Nelson preferred. If the president didn’t like Nick’s show of independence, so what? It wasn’t as if Nelson was going to fire the guy who was boosting his numbers so spectacularly.
A knock preceded a steward into the cabin. “Mr. Vice President, Mrs. Cappuano, Master Cappuano, welcome aboard Air Force Two. I’m Jeffrey, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Could I get you something to eat or drink?”
“Could I please have a cola?” Scotty asked, glancing at his parents to see if they would shoot down the request. They didn’t. Not today.
“Absolutely,” Jeffrey said. “Sir, madame?”
“Water would be great for me,” Sam said.
“Make it a double,” Nick said.
“Coming right up,” Jeffrey said when he departed the cabin. The back half of the plane, which normally housed members of the White House press corps, was empty today. Nick had been adamant that this was a personal matter, and even though he was flying on the government’s airplane he was not on official business.
To his knowledge, no one knew where they were going or why except for Brant. Nick had asked for the agent’s discretion in arranging the security for the trip and to keep the motorcade as small as possible. The best Brant had been able to do was three SUVs—one for Nick and his family and two others, one to lead and another to follow.
While Scotty pretended to work at the desk, Nick took a seat on the sofa next to Sam. “How you holding up, babe?”
“I’ll be much better when this is done.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“What if he refuses to sign? I mean, look at him. Who wouldn’t want him for a son?”
Sitting in the big leather desk chair, Scotty had his feet on the desk, the phone tucked into his shoulder and was gesturing the way Nick did when he was on the phone. “Is he making fun of me?” Nick asked, a grin stretching across his face.
“No, he wants to be you. He watches your every move and follows your lead in all things. He loves us both, but you’re his touchstone. He’ll never let you go.”
“And he admires you so much. You have no idea how much.”
They shared a warm smile and then turned their gaze back to Scotty, who seemed to be negotiating peace in the Middle East.
A short time later, they landed in Newark, where they were met by more agents and the caravan of black SUVs. They were loaded up and transported with incredible efficiency and dispatch. Nick had to admit it was rather convenient to have other people figuring out the logistics for him.
Brant had agreed to keep the detail in the restaurant to one agent for him and one for Scotty. The others would remain outside.
Nick knew it was far too much to hope that Tony wouldn’t recognize him or figure out who he was doing business with. At Nick’s instruction, Andy had withheld that information up until now, but his cover was about to be blown, and the possibility of his position somehow messing this up made Nick incredibly nervous.
The closer they got to their destination, the quieter Scotty became. He’d worn new jeans with a Red Sox sweatshirt under the new ski jacket they’d given him for Christmas. He stared out the window, watching the beachfront neighborhoods go by with a spark of interest and curiosity mixed into the nerves Nick could feel coming from him.
“Hey, bud,” Nick said.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“We’ll be right there with you, okay?”
Scotty nodded.
They’d asked him if he wanted them there for the meeting with his biological father, and he’d looked at them as if they
were crazy when he said, “Well, yeah, I want you there. Where else would you be? You’re my parents.”
“Just making sure,” Nick had said then. Every time he referred to them as his parents, the wallop of emotion hit Nick in the gut all over again.
They walked into the restaurant, saw Andy sitting with two other men and knew immediately which one was Scotty’s father. He had the same dark mop of hair, the same set to his jaw, and when he looked their way, Nick saw that his dark brown eyes were almost an exact replica of Scotty’s.
Tony stood and Nick knew the exact moment when he realized that Scotty was with the vice president of the United States and his wife.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tony whispered loud enough to be heard.
“Damn is a swear,” Scotty told him. He, too, had already figured out which of the men they’d come to see.
“Is it?” Tony asked, seeming amused. “I always thought it was one of those words that could go either way.”
“Definitely a swear,” Scotty said.
Nick placed a hand on Scotty’s shoulder and reached around him. “Nick Cappuano.”
“Yes.” Tony shook Nick’s hand, still seeming somewhat speechless. “I know.”
“This is my wife, Samantha.”
Sam shook hands with him. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“How about we all have a seat,” Andy said.
Nick sent his friend a grateful smile for his efforts to smooth the way. They sat at a round table, they met Tony’s lawyer, they ordered drinks and then food and they attempted to make conversation that was awkward and stilted and painful in so many ways. More than once, Nick caught Scotty taking surreptitious looks at the man who’d fathered him.
“I know you have questions,” Tony said after another long silence. “I don’t have all the answers you need, but I assure you I had no idea you existed until a few days ago. I’m sorry if you’ve felt let down by me all this time.”
“I wondered where you were,” Scotty said haltingly. “My mother, she died when I was six, but she never told me anything about you.”
“We were together a very short time and didn’t keep in touch. I’m sorry you were left alone when your mother and grandfather died.”
Scotty shrugged. “I was okay. Mrs. Littlefield, she was my guardian, she took good care of me for a long time until I met Nick and then Sam.”
“How did you meet your...um, your parents?”
“Nick, my dad, he came to the home for a visit when he was a senator representing Virginia. We...” He glanced at Nick.
Smiling warmly at the boy he loved, Nick came to his rescue. “We hit it off immediately and became really great friends by bonding over our love of the Boston Red Sox.”
“I won’t hold that against you,” Tony said with a teasing grin.
“Tell me you’re not a New York fan,” Scotty said with a scowl.
“Guilty.”
“Ugh,” Scotty groaned. “That’s awful.”
Tony laughed, seeming charmed by the boy, which was no surprise to Nick.
“We spent a lot of time together,” Nick continued, “and over a period of months, the three of us became somewhat of a family. Scotty came to live with us permanently last summer, and now we’re trying to make it official.”
“Is he... Is he safe living with you?” Tony glanced at Sam. “What happened to you. It made the national news.”
“He has his own detail that watches over him around the clock,” Nick said.
“The kids at school think it’s really cool that I have agents following me around,” Scotty interjected, making the adults laugh.
“What grade are you in?” Tony asked.
“Seventh.”
“What’s your favorite subject?”
“Lunch and recess, which we only have on special occasions now that we’re in middle school.”
“He likes history too,” Sam said.
“Next year I get to take Spanish,” Scotty said, “but I also have to take harder algebra.” The face he made indicated what he thought of that.
“Math was never my thing either.” Tony looked at Scotty with a hint of longing that struck a pang of fear in the vicinity of Nick’s heart.
Lunch was served, and Scotty dove in to his favorite meal of spaghetti and meatballs with the usual enthusiasm. He glanced up at Nick. “Hey, Dad, would you hand me the cheese?”
Nick felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
Sam’s hand landed on his leg, giving him a squeeze that snapped him out of the state of shock.
Nick reached for the Parmesan cheese and handed it to Scotty, who smiled at him.
“Thank you.”
Nick covered Sam’s hand with his own, feeling battered by the variety of emotions swirling through him—fear, anxiety, determination and love. So much love for his son.
“My mom is a cop,” Scotty told Tony. “She catches killers.”
“That’s very cool,” Tony said.
While Sam and Nick pushed the food around on their plates without really eating much of anything, they listened to Scotty and Tony make small talk. After the waiter and busboy had cleared the plates, Tony asked if he might have a few minutes to speak to Scotty alone.
Nick wanted to say no, and judging from the way Sam tensed next to him, she did too.
“Is it okay with you?” Scotty asked them.
“Whatever you want,” Nick forced himself to say.
“I guess it’d be okay.”
On wooden legs, Nick got up, helped Sam up and walked away from the table with the two lawyers following them. They settled in another booth, Nick choosing a seat that kept Scotty in his direct line of vision. Tony’s attorney excused himself to use the restroom.
“I feel like I’m going to lose it,” Sam whispered as she clung to his hand.
“Stay calm,” Andy said. “Just let it play out.”
“What about the paper?” Sam asked.
“Tony has it, and he knows what we need him to do.”
Since they had no choice, Nick let it play out. But he was playing to win, and he wasn’t leaving here without his son.
* * *
Scotty wasn’t sure what to say to the man who sat across from him. Why had he asked to talk to him alone? Was this when he was going to say he wanted him to come live here, in New Jersey, with him?
“Are you happy?” Tony asked him. “Living with your mom and dad?”
“Yeah. They’re great.”
“They seem really busy. Do they have time for you?”
“Oh, yeah, we do lots of fun stuff together. We go to baseball games, and I play in a hockey league. My dad is an incredible hockey player. He taught me how to skate, and he’s helping me catch up with the other kids. And my grandpa Skip, that’s my mom’s dad, he lives right down the street from us, and I go see him every day after school. Shelby, she’s like a nanny but not really because I don’t need a nanny anymore, she comes every day and she’s teaching me how to cook all sorts of cool stuff. I have aunts and uncles and cousins, one of them a new baby named Ella. My cousins Ethan and Abby—they fight a lot, and my aunt Tracy says I’m the only one who can get them to stop fighting. My dad’s friends, Graham and Laine O’Connor, they’re like his extra parents, they have this super-cool farm with horses and I’m learning how to ride. One time, Laine and I made ice cream from scratch. I thought it only came in a box.”
Scotty stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m talking way too much. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like hearing about your life.”
“Could I ask you something?”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
“Are you... Do you want to... Are you going to try to take me away from them?
” Scotty held his breath while he waited to hear what Tony would say.
“I was really surprised to hear about you. I was shocked. And to be totally honest, I didn’t believe it until you walked in here today and I saw myself at thirteen. I’m not going to take you away from them. I wouldn’t do that to you when it’s obvious you have a life with them that you love.”
“I love them. They’ve given me everything—a home and a family and my own room and an Xbox and posters on the wall and everything.”
“I’m not going to take you away from them, but I would like to know you, if that’s okay with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe we can email or text or talk on the phone once in a while and you can tell me how algebra is going and whether you like Spanish and if you scored a goal in hockey. Would that be possible?”
“If I say yes, would you sign the paper?”
“I’m going to sign the paper no matter what, but I’d really like to talk to you once in a while.”
Hearing that Tony planned to sign the paper, Scotty was suddenly unable to breathe. He dropped his head into his hands, desperately trying not to cry in front of a man he’d just met.
And then Nick was there, his hand on Scotty’s shoulder. “Everything all right?”
Nick sounded scared, and Nick never sounded scared—except for when Sam got herself into some sort of trouble.
Scotty looked up in time to see Tony pass the signed paper to Nick.
Nick took it from him and then shook Tony’s hand. “Thank you so much.” He sounded like he was going to cry, and Scotty could certainly relate.
“Thank you for coming all this way. I appreciate it.”
When Nick squeezed his shoulder again, Scotty stood and reached out to shake Tony’s hand. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“I, um, I’ll need your phone number.” Scotty withdrew his phone from his pocket and punched in the number Tony recited. Then he looked across the table at him. “I’ll call you.”