He was about to breach the open door of the kitchen when he heard his ex-mother-in-law say in a fairly loud but angry whisper, “You have to tell him.”
Metal clanged against metal, like the slam of a lid on a pot. “Mom, this is my decision. Not yours.” Jenna’s voice vibrated with annoyance.
Jay eased closer, careful not to make a sound.
“You’ve known for a long time. You should say something.”
“Not now.”
“When, Jenna? When will be the right time?”
“I don’t know!” Jenna hissed. “But it’s not now. I don’t want to spoil the boys’ birthday.”
Jay felt a little guilty about eavesdropping, but at the same time, he wondered what they were talking about. Could Jenna be ill?
Clearing his throat, he entered the kitchen and the two women almost jumped out of their skin.
“Jay,” Martha said, more out of surprise than a greeting. “We didn’t know you were here already.”
Interesting. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that whatever Jenna didn’t want to share had something to do with him.
“I’ve only been here a few minutes. Everything okay?” he asked.
Martha’s gaze dropped to the cloth she was wringing in her hand. Jenna crossed her arms and looked everywhere but at him.
“Is everything okay?” Jay asked again. “I couldn’t help but overhear—”
Martha’s head snapped up.
“What did you overhear?” Jenna asked sharply.
Jay frowned at her. “Not enough to know what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing going on.” Jenna turned back to the stove and stirred the meat sauce.
“Excuse me.” Martha slid past him out the door.
Jay watched her go and then turned his attention back to his ex, whose rigid stance in front of the stove was an obvious attempt at avoiding conversation.
Something was definitely amiss.
****
When the other kids arrived, the children totaled ten in all. They crowded into the den to eat and left the adults at the dining table. While they ate, Jay observed Jenna and her mother. Jenna seemed normal, but Martha appeared visibly upset and wouldn’t meet his eyes even though she sat right across from him.
Before he left, he had to confront Jenna about what she was keeping from him. He had a right to know if her secret involved the boys. If she was ill, he had a right to know that, too. They needed to prepare themselves and the boys for any outcome.
After dinner, everyone in the house packed into the den and Arturo and Marco opened presents. Jay sat on the floor taking pictures, and Jenna sat in an armchair memorializing the boys’ excitement with a video camera.
Their uncle, Ian, eventually wheeled in the scooters Jay had purchased and kept stored at his house. Because Marco was colorblind, his was black and Arturo’s was green, his favorite color.
The boys and their friends went into a frenzy for a few minutes. Their excited voices filled the room as they examined the new “toys.”
“Cool!”
“Aw man, you’re so lucky!”
“Thanks, Dad!”
Jay took a few more photos before he lowered the smartphone and said to Dale. “Would you hand me that red and green wrapped gift right there.” He pointed.
Dale sat in one of the armchairs with several presents stacked beside him. The one in question had a big green bow and contained a handmade chess set. The gift was for Arturo, who had developed an avid interest in chess over the past year.
“He can’t see those colors, Dad,” Marco explained. “He’s colorblind, like me.”
“Oh really?”
Jenna and her mother froze—Jenna in the chair, her mother seated on its arm. From the corner of his eyes, Jay noted their reaction and how they eyed him.
“That’s right, I am,” Dale said. He picked up the gift. “But I’m guessing it’s this one?” He handed over the box.
Jay might have brushed over the women’s reactions if Dale’s behavior hadn’t undergone a change, too. His easy-going demeanor came off as too easy-going in that moment. Forced, would be a better word, and his face reddened. Even Ian watched Jay with an odd expression on his face.
A feeling of unease engulfed him, like an invasion of ants crawling over and under his skin. He suddenly felt as if he was under a microscope, under observation to gauge his reaction. Then a thought hit him.
He stared hard at Dale, still with that affable expression on his face. His head swung in the direction of his ex-wife and her mother. He looked at Marco, now shadowboxing with his brother, and the bottom fell out of his stomach. The sensation intensified when his gaze settled once again on Jenna and Martha.
That’s when he knew.
Marco was not his son. Marco was Dale’s son.
His heart felt on the verge of exploding.
Everyone knew, but him.
Chapter Eighteen
The birthday party had been ruined. At least for the adults.
Jay rested his head on the back of the sofa in the hotel room. Although he didn’t want a drink, he needed one and ordered a bottle of Scotch from room service. More than anything, he wanted to file away the events of the day and forget them.
Ian and Martha had remained with the kids while Jay, Dale, and Jenna had gone into the kitchen. Jenna had stood sobbing, muttering about how sorry she was and how ‘it just happened.’
“I wanted to tell you,” Dale had said, but after that, he stared down at the tile and remained silent.
Then Jenna flipped and blamed Jay for the deception.
“It’s your fault. You think I don’t know that you love her? That you’ve always loved her?” He didn’t even have to ask who she was talking about. “Why do you think I had my father recommend her for the job in Chicago? I had to get her away from you—from us. Something happened the night you took her home. I shouldn’t have allowed it, but it was raining. Something happened, Jay. I know it did. Because afterward you were so different. So I had to do something. I had to.”
“So you got pregnant?” He’d suspected, of course, that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose. Yet he couldn’t have been happier to be a father.
“I didn’t mean to get pregnant by both of you! I came home to get away and yes, I slept with Dale. I was feeling so bad about us and our relationship. I saw the way you looked at her. I saw how she avoided looking at you. I couldn’t stand it.”
Jay ran trembling fingers through his hair. She’d married him knowing that another man could be the father of her children. Only by chance had paternity been split down the middle. “How long have you known?”
She swiped tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t know right away, I swear. I knew what I’d done, but I hoped the babies were yours. They were twins, for heaven’s sake! I only suspected the truth a few months after they were born. Because of the differences.”
That’s when she’d no longer allowed him to touch her, when her focus became the boys and he was treated like an outsider in his own home. All along he’d thought it was postpartum symptoms. He’d tried to be understanding, but in reality it had been her own deception keeping them apart.
“I didn’t want to think about it,” she whispered brokenly. “I pretended it wasn’t true, but when we learned Marco was colorblind, I couldn’t avoid the truth anymore. Two years ago we had DNA tests done on both boys, to be sure. Dale is Marco’s father.”
A knock on the door signaled his bottle had arrived, and Jay dragged to his feet. The hotel employee smiled broadly, but Jay wasn’t in a smiling mood. To make up for his surly attitude, he tipped the young man generously. He couldn’t wait to get stinking drunk off the hotel’s overpriced liquor.
He sank onto the sofa and placed the bottle and glass on the table in front of him. The room was hazy, like a dream. Unfortunately, this was all real. No matter how much he drank to make the pain of betrayal go away, the truth remained. Jenna had suspected all along. Suspected, but neve
r took the steps to confirm paternity. And after she had, she didn’t see fit to tell him the truth.
Pain jabbed his chest, as if someone were sticking knives into the cavity.
Jay buried his head in his hands. He’d taught both boys how to swim while on vacation at the family’s villa on Lake Maggiore in Turin. He’d taught them how to ride a bike one year when they’d spent the month of July with him in Atlanta.
Those were his boys—both of them. Marco may not have Jay’s blood running through his veins, but he was his son. Years of betrayal and lies didn’t change that.
The yawning ache in his chest widened, and he no longer expected the bottle in front of him could alleviate the pain.
He looked at the phone and wondered….had Brenda known, too? Could she have also been part of the conspiracy to keep the truth from him?
He was about to find out.
****
Brenda snatched up the phone from the bedside table when she heard the special ring tone she’d assigned to Jay’s name. She dropped onto the bed, wrapped in a damp towel from the shower she’d taken a few minutes before.
Her heart tripped with trepidation. She sat against the headboard and drew her feet up on the bed. “How did it go?”
“Did you know about Marco?” Jay asked.
His dead, emotionless voice sounded so completely unlike Jay she was startled and worried at the same time.
“What’s going on?”
“Did you know Marco isn’t my son?”
Brenda’s mouth fell open, the only sound a croak of disbelief before she closed it again. She shook her head in shock. Perhaps she’d misunderstood. “What do you mean he’s not your son?”
“Did you know?” he demanded.
“No. Jay, what’s going on?”
“Jenna told you everything.”
“Not that. I swear to you. My goodness, the boys are…they’re twins.”
He laughed bitterly, and the sound was so anguished she wished she was with him right then so she could hold him. “Fraternal twins. Two different eggs. And in this case, two different fathers.”
Brenda couldn’t even wrap her mind around the implication of his words. That would mean Jenna had cheated on Jay.
“I swear to you I had no idea. I never even suspected. I assumed Arturo was like your side of the family and Marco took after hers.”
“So did I,” he said quietly.
“Who’s the father?” This was like a bad episode of the “Maury Show.”
“Her new boyfriend, Dale. He came to our wedding as a friend, but obviously he had been more than a friend,” Jay muttered.
“Jay…” She wanted to reach through the phone and comfort him.
“And she knew you and I had feelings for each other. She didn’t urge her father to get you the interview in Chicago because of your friendship. She did it because she wanted to get you away from me.”
“What?” Brenda said, her breathing halting. That revelation left her floored.
“I’m here for one more night,” Jay said heavily. “I want to spend as much time with my—with my sons as possible.”
Brenda held on to the phone tightly, her heart aching for him. “Is there anything I can do? Tell me what you need.”
“Nothing.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
He huffed out a breath. “I’ll be fine.”
“Jay…”
“I’ll be fine, Brenda. I need time alone to think right now. I’ll be in touch.”
****
Worry ate at Brenda.
Three days had passed since her conversation with Jay, and she’d tried calling him numerous times, but he hadn’t answered his phone. She called Omega Advertising, and his secretary said he’d taken a short leave of absence and wouldn’t be back for a few days. Then last night he’d sent a cryptic text asking her to stop trying to contact him. He needed time alone.
He may say he wanted to be left alone, but she was certain that he shouldn’t be. She needed to see him, hold him, touch him. Anything to ease his pain and alleviate some of what he must be going through.
She couldn’t help him from her apartment, so she packed a bag, hopped in the car, and drove to his house in Alpharetta. It was difficult to drive at a sane pace and not risk injuring herself and other drivers on the road, but she managed.
Upon arrival, she left her bag in the car. She’d been in such a hurry to get to his house, she hadn’t grabbed a jacket, and the sheer white blouse and ankle-length skirt she wore were insufficient to keep her comfortable in the cool fall air.
She pressed close to the door of his house and rang the doorbell, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to generate warmth.
She waited.
And waited.
She rang the bell again, certain he was home, but would he leave her out there?
“Open, Jay, please,” she whispered. Had she been wrong to come? He’d made it clear he didn’t want company, but she’d known him for so long. Knew how much he adored Marco and Arturo. She couldn’t let him suffer alone.
She rang the bell one more time, but he still didn’t come.
Dejected, Brenda was in a half turn when the door opened.
She’d hoped that when he saw her he would change his mind, but he looked exactly the way he’d sounded on the phone. Solemn, grim. He didn’t want her there, but her eyes drank him in. Glorious in a pair of navy blue pajama bottoms, he stared at her with his black hair disheveled, as if she’d disturbed him from sleep.
“I told you I wanted to be alone,” he said.
She swallowed. “I know, but I couldn’t stay away.”
“This is hard for me,” he grated.
“I know,” she whispered. “Do you want me to go?”
“You shouldn’t have come in the first place,” he snarled.
If he could say something so hurtful with her standing there, after the times they’d spent together and the moments they’d shared, then she had made a mistake. His rejection humiliated her. What had she been thinking? A few orgasms did not a relationship make.
“Fine,” she said, using anger to mask her embarrassment.
But her anger was not directed at him. He was being honest. She was angry at herself for being so brash as to show up unannounced. Obviously he didn’t need her.
She swung away but didn’t get far. He caught her around the waist and pulled her back against him. He flattened his nose against her neck, the rough hairs on his jaw and chin chafing her skin. The same way they had grated against her inner thighs, her stomach, the tender flesh of her breasts.
She grabbed onto the doorframe for support, already weak-kneed from his touch. The other hand she used to touch his cheek, trembling as he pressed his erection into her bottom. She lifted her hips against him, seeking his heat.
Muttering an oath, he dragged her inside. The door slammed and he pressed her against the door. With her cheek to the wood, he bunched up her skirt and began the climb to her inner thigh.
His hand made contact with the warmth between her legs and gently squeezed. She gasped, having difficulty catching her breath, the need was so great. It had been less than a week since they last saw each other, but the raw pain of her aching body gave no indication such a short period had passed.
“I need you,” he groaned.
Nodding vigorously, she turned in his arms, willing to do anything to ease his anguish. His hands moved under her skirt, and he cupped her bottom as their mouths joined together. He grinded her into the door, prepping her for what was to come. She was ready, soaked, and shaking.
She shoved the pants past his hips, and he peeled off her clothes, one piece at a time. First the skirt, then the thin, practically transparent fabric of her top came off, revealing the swell of her brown breasts over the top of the black demi-cup bra.
She pulled his head down to hers and their tongues lunged toward each other. Naked, skin to skin, the hairs on his chest tickled her nipples and the irregular beat of
her heart clamored against his.
His hands went behind her knees and he lifted her and walked toward the carpeted staircase. Instead of climbing to the bedroom, he lowered onto a step and she followed, easing onto his thick shaft. As he entered her body, she moaned and tightened her arms around him. She strained closer, the experience of being filled by him sending a tremble of erotic pleasure coursing through her veins.
Then his lips were on the skin of her neck, at the pulse of her throat, and lower to her aching breasts. Each flick of his tongue was sublime, each suck a pleasure she never wanted to live without. She held on tighter, arching her body, one hand around his neck, the other gripping a baluster on the wooden rail.
They moved in perfect sync, retreating and then thrusting together in a heated clasp. His hands supported her back as she bounced on top of his pumping hips. Her moans grew louder and her breathing became more sporadic. He pushed his hips with increased fervor, the lean muscles of his stomach contracting with the effort. Their movements became less and less controlled with each passing second, and her hold on him tightened.
They were so in tune with each other that their mutual satisfaction came at the same time. He with a loud shout, and she with a keening cry. Gasping, pumping, they fought through the battering waves of orgasmic bliss. He spilled inside of her, and she shuddered, eyes closed tight, before slumping against him.
They clung to each other on the staircase, their damp bodies loathe to separate. She inhaled deeply, the fragrance of sweat and sex heavy in the air.
Tenderly, gently, she kissed his temple, his cheek, his mouth, and the deep cleft in his chin.
He sighed and buried his face in her neck. “He’s my son,” he muttered into her skin, his voice thick. “Mio figlio. Mio figlio.” My son. My son. The hurt emanating from him was almost tangible. It filled his voice, and she felt it in the air.
“I know, honey,” she said softly. She stroked her fingers through his fine hair, hugging him close, offering comfort the best way she knew. “I know.”
An Unexpected Attraction (Love Unexpected Book 3) Page 14