by Susan Ward
His expression wasn’t encouraging. Worse, it felt like someone was watching me. I looked over my shoulder at the parked car.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?”
“You’ve got a visitor,” was his reply. “Three visitors, actually.”
“Three?”
“One girl. One baby. One angry man in the car.”
His gaze locked with mine, heavy with meaning, and dread moved through my veins. Only one thing could make a guy’s best friend look this grim.
“Oh fuck,” I exclaimed under my breath. “Who is it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. She’s been here all evening. With the car parked in front waiting for her.”
“Fuck.”
He patted me on the arm. “I’ll be here for you, Jackie, when you’re done with this. Just let me know when I can come in.”
Damn it, after all the years of Georgie taunting me about my tomcatting getting me into trouble, I’d gotten a girl pregnant.
Fuck.
I trotted up the steps like I hadn’t a care in the world but, of course, I was scared shitless. What guy wouldn’t be in this circumstance? Actions had greater consequences in 1962. A guy just couldn’t say no and send a check. Especially when a girl brought her father along for the special delivery.
Fuck—the senator was going to blow his lid.
I took a deep, steadying breath before I opened the door. My only thought as I entered the house was let it be someone I could stomach.
The living room was empty, even though Georgie said she was in there. Frowning, I looked down the hall. Bathroom door was open. I even checked the kitchen, and by the time I was done I was starting to hope it was a prank or something.
Yep, that’s what it was. After the talk George had had with me this morning I wouldn’t put it past him. I decided to leave Georgie out front all night for pulling such a lame stunt. It wasn’t the kind of joke a guy should do to another guy.
I went to my room, switched on my light, and then froze.
Lying on my bed.
Stunning as ever.
Lena.
And I was pretty sure, by the age and looks, that the baby held up against her was mine.
Chapter Sixteen
I shoved my hands into my pockets, leaned back against the wall, and just stared as I watched Lena slowly pull from sleep.
Every detail of her was exactly like I carried in my memory. I’d often tried to tell myself that no girl could be as beautiful as I remembered her, that it was fantasy, some sort of pathetic game I played with myself to make it less pathetic how slowly my heart recovered after having been dumped by her.
During our nearly two years apart, I’d done a lot of things to prove to myself she wasn’t that special, with lots of girls, and I’d almost convinced myself I didn’t care about her anymore.
How much a lie that had been hit me smack in the face the moment she sat up, elegant posture complete with a dainty lift of her chin, and her eyes locked on mine.
“Jackson.”
One word, on her breathy low purr.
It ran across my flesh with startling potency.
I didn’t want it to.
A part of me was still angry that she’d ended us.
And I was pretty sure I was about to go through another of Lena’s capricious, unpredictable moments.
Though really, how unpredictable could this be? The sleeping baby on the bed was clear indication of what the next minutes would entail. For both of us.
The silence between us was excruciating.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” I asked, and the second the words were out, I regretted that being the first thing I said because it had sounded cold, and it wasn’t what I intended. It was the first thought I had in my rapidly changing circumstance—did I have a daughter or a son?—because I couldn’t tell by looking it. And damn, as awkward as that came out, at least it was reasonable.
Fuck, why was she just staring at me like that?
Jesus Christ, couldn’t she help me out here?
Her chin inched higher in the air. “There was a girl in your bed when I arrived. Is that your girlfriend?”
My heartbeat jumped into my throat, strangling me, because there was no way in hell to anticipate and prepare for that one. Lena unpredictability—I shouldn’t have hoped for any less, and her question knocked me back on my heels in a half second. Worse, it made me squirm like I’d done something wrong. Like I owed her something.
My gaze shifted to the baby. Fuck, maybe I did.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” I repeated.
Her eyes flashed, though I couldn’t imagine why that question angered her, and then she lowered her gaze. “A boy. Samuel. Samuel Anthony Parker.”
I nodded, my chin jutting out. I’d thought it was a girl because of the long black eyelashes.
“He’s a good-looking little guy.”
She glanced up at me, unsmiling.
“He looks just like you. Not his coloring. But his expressions. Exactly like you.”
I don’t know why; out of nowhere I was furious.
“Why are you here, Lena?” I asked tersely, which was both a stupid and cruel direction to go.
Her features stiffened. “Not for the reasons you think.”
“Nope, not even going to try to guess at what that one means or stumble through a reply. Just out with it, Lena. Why are here? Now. Nearly two years later. No call. I’m sure you have this worked out in your head. Why don’t you just tell me what you want from me?”
She stood up and grabbed her coat from the dresser as she mumbled, “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I should never have listened to Yuri. I should never have let him bring me here.”
She was reaching for the baby when I stopped her. “That’s Yuri in the car parked out front?”
She tried to shrug off the hand I placed on her arm. “Of course. Who did you think it was? My father? He doesn’t know where I am, but oh, will he gloat over being right about this.”
Thick streams of tears poured from her eyes and she looked unsure as I had never seen her before, and sad in a way I’d seen often and made my heart wrench.
I hated seeing the sadness more than anything else. It instantly banked both my anger and stubbornness not to give in to my want to understand what the hell was going on here.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” I said anxiously, pulling her quaking body into my arms even though she tried to prevent me from doing it. “You are not going anywhere. I won’t let you. Not now.”
“Please, just let me leave. This was a mistake,” she pleaded fretfully. “You won’t hear from me again. I promise, Jackson.”
I stared down at her, my frustration mounting again. None of that was useful in explaining why she was here if she thought it was a mistake. And what I was seeing on her face didn’t make any of it more logical.
She was distraught.
She was sad.
She was angry—angry at me, I amended, though I wasn’t sure why. Not the combination I wanted, and definitely not what I intended when I first spied her on my bed.
“Mistake or not it happened,” I said, though it was the farthest thing from what I felt. “You’re not leaving until we talk this through.”
Her face tilted upward, eyes flashing. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m so tired of men telling me what to do. Who I can see. Who I can love. Whether I perform. Whether I have a career again. Controlling my life. Controlling me. Controlling everything—”
“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” I interrupted heatedly. “I’m just trying to figure out what we do now. Where we go from here. I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again, not after all this time, not after you walked away.”
Her eyes went wide in fury. “Walked away? How can you say that to me?”
“Because it’s the truth,” I ground out, stepping back from her. I didn’t care if it made me sound pathetic. There were a lot of things I needed to say, whether it was the
right moment or not. “I’m the one who asked you to marry me. You’re the one who thought us only a game and went back to New York. I’m the one who called you a hundred times with no response. It’s pretty clear, Lena, who treated who badly here. Even in our son. I’m not the kind of guy who’d knock up a girl and walk away, but for your own amusement that’s who you’ve made me. So don’t try to cast me as the bad one in this. Jesus Christ, how could you have my child and not even tell me?”
Her eyes frantically searched my face, her lush mouth in a little circle, almost like she was saying “oh” without sound. Surprise—yes, my tirade had surprised her.
I took another step back from her.
“This isn’t what I want.”
Her expression changed, and I knew she’d taken that one wrong. “What do you want, Jackson?”
I sank down on the bed.
Fuck, I was making a mess of this. One look at her confirmed that. But shit, no guy has a playbook for a situation like this. And even if I had one, seeing Lena made me anything but sure on my feet.
“Just tell me what you want me to do.”
Pathetic a second time?
Sure.
But it seemed appropriate.
She was here for something.
And it got Lena to sit down on the bed, close beside me this time. “I didn’t think of us as a game,” she whispered softly. “Not then and certainly not now. I fell in love with you.”
The obvious omission—and I still love you—wasn’t lost on me. I looked at the baby because it was too risky to look at her yet. Not a peep or even a move out of him through all that.
“He’s certainly a sound sleeper.” I allowed a small smile. “That’s one way he’s like me.”
She laughed, tired and halfheartedly. “He has to be. He lives in a house of angry words and music. I’ve been working on the Prokofiev third. Not exactly a lullaby. Samuel can sleep through anything.”
I nodded, my chin moving only slightly. “Good. I’m glad I have a son who likes music.”
“Ah. But are you glad you have a son?”
Her question made me tense. I didn’t know what I was feeling. Too much had happened too quickly between us. As always.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted.
Her response was not one I expected; she smiled.
“In all moments an honest and good man. I should never have forgotten that.”
I sighed, resting my throbbing forehead in the arch of my fingers. “I don’t feel either right now.”
“That’s why you’re both,” she replied quickly.
I turned my head to look at her then. “Tell me why you’re so angry with me.”
She lay her palm on my cheek. “I’m not anymore. You didn’t know anything, did you? You weren’t a part of any of it?”
“A part of what, Lena?”
“Everything that was so awful after I left Santa Barbara.”
Frowning, I slowly dissected her expression, seeing the hurt for the first time. That she was hurt, maybe as I had been, gave me hope, though internally it rang a warning that I wasn’t going to like where this would go.
“What do you mean the awful after you left Santa Barbara? Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. I want to know every second from the moment I left the hotel room.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jack. Not anymore.”
“It does to me.”
And for a second time she told me a story that was extraordinary, only every ugly part of it was my fault in some way and not hers. Even knowing my father and Gloria as I did, it was hard to believe any of it, even as I knew every word Lena spoke was the truth.
It definitely explained why my father wouldn’t speak to me; what they’d been doing to my life behind my back. I’m sure they considered it nothing more than cleaning up Jackie’s mess.
I lay back on the bed, clutching my hair. “I know you’re telling me the truth, but it’ so hard to believe any of it.”
“Well, it’s truth, Jack. Every word. You wanted to know what happened. And that’s what happened. My father called you immediately when I realized I was pregnant. But I never got a call back from you. So my father called the senator to inform him of our mutual predicament. I don’t know everything, not the words they exchanged. Papa just said I shouldn’t expect to hear from you. He was angry like I’d never seen him before. The next thing I knew, a check arrived with a curt note I assumed was from you, saying this was how you had decided to handle everything.”
“I never sent you any check and certainly wouldn’t send you a letter like that. Jesus Christ, how could you think I’d do something like that? I did call, Lena. Lots of times.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
“Yes. At first, I never got an answer. I thought maybe the operator had given me the wrong number. Then later, your father told me to stop calling. His exact words before he slammed down the phone: I hope you rot in hell. So I stopped calling.” I turned onto my side, taking her against me. “You should have just come here sooner.”
“I would have, but it hurt thinking…”
She broke off, and with my thumbs I brushed at her tears. “Thinking what, Lena?”
“That you didn’t love me. That it had all been a lie.”
I kissed her nose. “It hurt for me, too.”
“It was Yuri who convinced me to come here. My father told me not to do it. That it was better to have my pride than nothing. But I couldn’t take it any longer, Jack. I wanted you to at least see our son once.”
“Well, your father was wrong,” I informed her earnestly. “It didn’t cost you your pride. What it did was get you a husband who loves you, if you’ll marry me.”
“I didn’t come here for that. To force you into marrying me. I just wanted you to see—”
I covered her mouth with my fingers. “And you’re not forcing me. It’s what I want. You asked me what I wanted. I want you.”
Those bedroom brown eyes were enormous as she stared at me and, as I waited for her to give me an answer, I knew that I had never stopped loving her And that’s why I’d asked her to marry me—not because of the baby.
I was twenty, and I’d run through enough girls to know I’d be in love with Lena forever. I never once thought she was here for different reasons.
Chapter Seventeen
The second Lena said yes, I decided to make a fast retreat before I blew things with her again.
I kissed her once, lightly. “You look tired. Why don’t you go to sleep? I need to tell Yuri he can leave and let George know it’s safe to come back into the house.”
She laughed but still looked fretful. “My bags are in the car.”
A little lightness seemed a good thing after what we’d just been through. “Ah, pretty sure of yourself, now weren’t you?”
She shook her head. “No. But I was hopeful.”
I grinned. “You stole my line.”
“It’s a good way to live. One I should try more often.” Her eyes widened. “I remember every word, every minute of our time together, Jack.”
“Me, too.” I made a face at her. “Now sleep.”
I closed the door between us and headed out onto the porch. Shit, it was freezing. I hadn’t noticed that when I’d reached home, but I could see Georgie’s breath on the icy air.
“Come on in, George. I’m sorry I left you out here so long.”
George stood up. “Everything OK, Jackie?”
I nodded, even though I still wasn’t certain that it was. “Lena’s going to be staying here for a while. Do you think that’ll be all right with Reggie?”
George’s eyes widened. “That’s Lena Mansur?”
He said her name in that way people said it when they knew her history, and it shouldn’t have surprised me—or angered me—that Georgie, for whatever reason, had checked up on her background after I told him about my affair with her. He was just that way, cautious and curious, but it pissed me off nonetheless that he’d done it.
&
nbsp; “Yep. And the baby is Samuel. My son. I’ll introduce you to both of them in the morning and then you can help me figure out how to get married. That’s not going to be a problem between us, is it, George?”
“Oh, Jack, slow down.”
I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“She’s a looker. I’ll give her that, but are you sure you want to marry her? Have you thought this through? Are you even sure the baby is yours? The girl has a past. And marrying a senator’s son would go a long way to making life easier for a girl like that in her situation.”
My temper spiked. “Of course I’m sure the baby’s mine. And what the hell did you mean a girl like that?”
“I’m just saying—”
“Well, don’t. My mind is made up. No one’s going to change it—not my father and not you. Not now.”
I trotted down the steps toward the car before he could say another word. I didn’t want to fight with George and I didn’t want to hear another word against Lena. Georgie was wicked smart and saw all things from every direction, whereas I accepted things how they came, at face value.
I’d gotten a girl pregnant. I was marrying her. It was the right thing to do, no matter how anyone else might have viewed it. And if they viewed it differently, I didn’t want to know.
It wouldn’t change anything.
Not for me.
Yuri was slouched in the driver’s seat, sleeping. I knocked with my knuckles on the window, startling him, and then he rolled down the glass.
I extended my hand. “I’m Jackson Parker.”
He gave me a severe once-over and ignored my hand. “Yuri Aristov. Where’s Lena?”
I took a step back from the car and shoved my chilled hands into my pockets. “Hopefully sleeping. She looked worn out.”
“That shouldn’t surprise you,” he said, his cheek twitching. “Not after what she’s been through.”
His criticism of me with that was clear. His affection and loyalty to Lena even clearer. It was my turn to do a careful inspection of him.
“Why don’t you come in?” I offered, since I suspected I should get to know Yuri Aristov better. Whoever he was to Lena, they were important to each other.