“And so that left me feeling like a third wheel back there.”
“You’re being silly.”
“Am I, Dalton? The whole time we’ve been together, I’ve sensed you holding a part of yourself back.”
“What part?” He turned onto the side street leading into the alley behind her loft.
“I don’t know.” She crossed her arms, hesitant to break the light banter with a serious subject, yet feeling as if it needed to be done. “I just thought you might have a secret.”
He laughed. “A secret? Like a hidden tail? Or maybe a penchant for eating bananas during full moons?”
“Stop,” she said, gently squeezing his thigh.
Pulling up behind the loft, he turned off the lights and killed the engine.
“I’m being serious.”
“Like I’m not?” He winked. “I’ve gotta say it’s going to be one helluva relief to get that tail out in the open. I’ve been having awful cramps.”
Shaking her head, grinning despite herself, Rose unfastened her seat belt. Clearly, he was avoiding her probing question, but that was okay. By choosing her over both Miranda and his parents, he’d told her that he took her and their relationship seriously. But had he grown to care for her as much as she and Anna cared for him?
THEIR LOVEMAKING that night was tender and slow. And when morning dawned with sunshine drenching the bed, Rose took it as a sign that as that weekend’s dismal weather had passed, so had her life’s storm.
Easing from beneath the covers while Dalton was still lightly snoring, she pressed a kiss to his smooth forehead. Then she had a leisurely bubble bath in the oversize soaking tub.
Eyes closed in contentment, she prayed Dalton would wake feeling this good. She prayed for him to have a sense of grace and clarity in regard to his life’s direction. Of course, he shouldn’t abruptly quit the bank without some other plan in place, but as miserable as he’d been, it was high time he focus on life’s beauty for a change.
Contentedly wriggling her toes, she shook her head. Since when had she become such a Pollyanna?
“This a private party? Or can anyone join in?”
Grinning up at Dalton, she scooted back, making room. “By all means, please, climb in.”
He did.
She added more hot water and bubbles and soon, bathtime had been transformed into fun time with kissing and splashing and laughing till her sides hurt.
He’d shifted to the rear of the tub, pulling her atop him. Eyes closed, kissing him, she abandoned herself to his spell.
“Thank you,” he softly said. “You’ve awakened creative parts of me I’d feared forever lost. For that, I’m not sure how to repay you.”
“Nonsense.” Tracing his lips, she said, “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
After another kiss, he said, “How about if we count to three, then give mutual thanks?”
“Sounds like an excellent plan.”
“Okay…One, two—”
A muted electronic sound pierced the loft’s morning hush.
“What was that?” Rose asked.
Dalton groaned. “My cell.”
It finally stopped.
“Do you need to answer?”
“Definitely not. Where were we?”
“Counting.”
“Ah, yes. One—”
The phone rang again.
“This is why I’ve never wanted a cell. Seems like they always ring at the worst possible time.”
“Ignore it,” he said, hand at the back of her head, urging her lips to his. “No doubt someone at the bank misplaced a file, or can’t figure out how to unjam the copy machine.”
The phone’s chirpy electronic tone stopped, but started right back up.
“You’d better get it,” Rose said. “Sounds like whoever it is wants you pretty bad.”
When it stopped, Dalton said, “See? Whoever it was, they wisely went away.”
“Go,” Rose said, easing off of him so he could get out of the tub.
With a whoosh of water, he pushed himself up, snagging a red towel from the rack, wrapping it around his waist. “I’m sorry about this.”
“It’s okay.” She loved the sight of him. Muscular shoulders and back, radiating strength. The incongruous picture he made wearing only a towel while taking what was obviously an important call brought on a giggle. Then a defeated edge to his posture erased her urge to laugh.
Shoulders sagging, he said, “Of course. I understand. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Be where? she longed to ask, but waited until he’d set down his phone.
“Dalton?” She rose from the tub, wrapping herself in a towel before going to him. Hands pressed against his chest, she dared ask, “What’s wrong?”
A muscle ticking in his jaw, he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I have to go. My father had another heart attack.”
DALTON DROVE to the hospital more recklessly than he should’ve, but he figured what the hell did it matter if he got a ticket? Worse yet, rammed himself into a telephone pole? He couldn’t physically hurt more than he already did.
Rose had begged him to let her come along to the hospital, but he gave her the excuse that since his father was in intensive care, no one but family was allowed to see him.
Rose had told him she wouldn’t be at the hospital to see his father, but to support him. He’d still refused because secretly, he didn’t want her witnessing the end of their beautiful dream. In the harsh light of day, that’s what the two of them were. With his dad so ill, he could no more leave the bank than he could change his eyes from blue to green.
One call, and all his hard-won resolve had vanished. He’d been plunged headfirst back into the role of prodigal son.
He finished the trip without incident, only to find that the nurses wouldn’t let him in to see his dad.
The head nurse led him to a windowless, beige waiting room, which was dark except for a pool of light from a corner lamp. Stale coffee and desperation scented the air.
A man with a small girl—maybe age two or three—on his lap slumped in a recliner at the far end of the room. An elderly gentleman pretended to be reading a battered copy of Reader’s Digest, but his eyes kept darting to the door.
Beside a dark TV sat Dalton’s mother, looking ten years older than her age. When she saw him, she smiled, and he was filled with guilt for ever having put his own needs ahead of hers.
“How are you?” he asked. When she rose, he gave her a hug. She seemed frail and smelled faintly of arthritis cream. When had she grown old?
“I’m fine,” she said. “We were having breakfast at the club when it happened. Your dad was in the midst of a heated debate over whether or not we should do like some of those bigger banks, and stay open till all hours of the night, when it happened. Alice was here, but I sent her home. I know she’ll need to be in the office early in the morning, and I figured there was no sense in her sitting around when they won’t even let us inside.” When she shivered, Dalton removed his lightweight jacket, slipping it over her shoulders. Sinking back into her chair, she said, “Your father’s doctor sees no reason why he shouldn’t recover, but I have to tell you, it does my heart good knowing he won’t have to worry about the bank. I know he doesn’t always show it, but he’s been so impressed by your work, Dalton. He’s very proud of you.”
Lead settling between his shoulders, Dalton backed into the chair beside her.
His mom patted his knee. “You’ve always been such an asset to him—to us both. We love you.”
“I love you, too,” he said, thinking of Rose, wishing he’d told her he loved her before leaving. Only just now did he realize that fact. He loved her. But because of that love, he owed it to her to not get her mired in his messy life.
A nurse entered the waiting room, prompting all present, save for the sleeping girl, to look up. “Montgomery family?”
“That would be us,” his mother said.
“Mr. Montgomery is awake and as
king to see his son.”
Not sure he was ready to see his dad, Dalton said to his hollow-eyed mom, “You go. I know how much you must want to be with him.”
She shook her head. “Right before his doctor wheeled him into surgery, your father asked for you. He’s worried about you, Dalton.”
“How can he be worried about me? I’m not the one who just had emergency heart surgery.”
“Sir?” the nurse prompted, lightly touching his shoulder.
“Right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Out in the hall, they faced a set of double metal doors. The nurse pressed a square button on the wall that opened the doors with a soft whoosh. Inside was a harsh, white space that looked straight from a sci-fi movie. Machines hummed and beeped. The air was cold, thick with the scents of cleaning fluids and antiseptic.
The nurse stopped outside a room labeled #7. She opened a sliding-glass door, then gestured for Dalton to step through. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.
The ghostly pale man lying in the bed wasn’t the daunting figure Dalton had always thought him to be. His father was no longer intimidating, but in need of his son’s help and support. There was no way Dalton could think of leaving the family business now. No matter how much he loved Rose, he couldn’t walk out on his dad when he needed him most.
Sure, over the years, his father could have given him more independence, more latitude in choosing his own career, but all of that was water under the bridge.
Dalton’s future was clear.
“Son. You came.” Though his father’s raspy voice sounded barely human, Dalton acted as if the man whose voice had always boomed thunder hadn’t changed a bit.
“Where else would I be?” Dalton asked. They’d never been a demonstrative family, but he took the older man’s hand in his. When his father squeezed tightly, Dalton knew he’d done the right thing.
“I need to talk to you,” his dad said. “Set a few things straight.”
“It’s okay. I know I haven’t been keeping the most regular hours lately, but—”
“No—” his father clutched Dalton’s hand harder “—this has nothing to do with business.”
Then what? The man knew nothing but business.
“I—I want to talk about regrets.”
“Okay…” Dalton glanced beyond the sliding-glass door. Where was the nurse? Had she given his father too much pain medication?
“Ever since my first heart attack, I couldn’t help but wonder at the path I’d chosen for my life. Back when I went into the family business, I wanted to be a banker, just like my pop.” Dalton winced when his dad emitted a throaty chuckle. He didn’t sound good. “There hasn’t been a single day I’ve spent at the bank that I haven’t thanked my lucky stars for the life I’ve—we’ve—been given. That said, folks talk. I’m hearing you’re not as happy at the bank as I’ve been.” He coughed again. “I—I guess what I’m asking in a roundabout way, son, is if you have any regrets.”
Where did Dalton start? If he told his father the truth, would he die right here on the spot? “Regrets. Dad? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean, are you happy? Does running the most respected and lucrative, family-owned financial institution in our corner of the world make you truly, bone-deep happy?”
How Dalton longed to answer truthfully, but what good would truth be if the pain of that truth caused his dad to suffer another attack? In the end, Dalton took a deep breath and said, “Sure, I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?”
BY ELEVEN MONDAY MORNING, Dalton was buried so deep in files, a snow shovel would be needed to clear them. Still, he doggedly kept at it, as the alternative—breaking up with Rose—seemed far worse than being up to his neck in work.
“Mr. Montgomery?” Joan said through the intercom. “Ms. Vasquez is here to see you.”
“Send her in.” Wearily standing, he washed his hands over his unshaven cheeks. What would he say to her? Was now the time to do the deed in breaking things off? Or should he wait until they were in a kinder, gentler setting?
Like the sun easing out from behind clouds, she glided into his office. At first, she was smiling, but that was soon enough replaced by a frown. “My God,” she said, cupping her hands to his cheeks. “Mi novio, you look horrible.” Sweetheart. She’d called him her sweetheart. Last time she’d called him by the Spanish phrase, Dalton had looked up the meaning. Hands now around his waist, she hugged him tight. “I’m so sorry. How is your dad? Is he going to be all right? I waited for you to call, figuring you must be with family. But when you never did, I had to come see you for myself.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I stopped by the hospital first. Your mom told me where to find you.”
“You saw Mom?”
“I’d kind of have to see her to talk to her, wouldn’t I?”
When he didn’t crack a smile, she elbowed him.
“That was a joke.”
“Sorry,” he said, releasing her to rake his fingers through his hair. “Guess I’m not much in the mood for clowning around.”
“Understandable,” she said, helping herself to one of his guest chairs. “So? How is he? What happened? Your mom looked pretty rough, so I didn’t want to bother her.”
Back in his chair, Dalton said, “Dad had an emergency bypass. But his doctor thinks he’ll be fine just as long as he lays off cream sauce, bourbon and cigars.”
“Rats.” Rose made a face. “That pretty much rules out the finer things in life, huh?” Reaching across the desk to take his hand, she said, “You should be home sleeping. Even better, you should be at my home sleeping.”
The mere suggestion of closing his eyes in Rose’s big, comfy bed had him yawning. “As good as that sounds, I have a lot to finish up here.”
“Anything I can do to help?” she asked, leaving her chair to perch on his lap. She wore a pale lavender sundress trimmed in white lace that made her dark skin look especially edible. Never had there been a more gorgeous woman. Never had he been more resolute in what he needed to do. She and Anna deserved a man who’d live for them. His father had told him that as soon as he left the hospital, he’d announce his retirement, officially handing the reins to him. If Dalton was this miserable to be around now, Lord only knew what kind of bear he’d become when the bank was solely his.
“I wish you could help, but…”
“Will you at least let me fix dinner for you tonight?”
He’d like nothing better, but dare he risk spending more time in her arms? On the flip side, her home would probably be the most comforting place for her to be when he ended things. He would let her down easy. Explain why she and Anna deserved so much better than him.
“Dalton? Dinner?”
“That, um, sounds great, but I have to go to the hospital.”
“I know, but surely you’re not spending the night, are you?”
“No, but—”
“All right, then. Anna and I will expect you around eight. Think that’ll give you time for a nice long visit with your dad, or should we make it later? Why don’t you invite your mom? I’d love to talk with her under more pleasant circumstances, and she could no doubt use a change of scenery.”
“Rose, I—”
“I know, you’re busy.” Draping her arm atop his shoulders, she leaned in close for a kiss. It wasn’t a passionate kiss or a casual kiss, but somewhere in between. In the realm of dear friends or that of a comfortably married couple. It was a kiss that spoke of love and respect, caring and trust—none of which he felt worthy of receiving. She got to her feet and kissed him again, then said, “Don’t overdo it, okay?”
Without waiting for his reply, she left the room, marooning him with only a lingering trace of her perfume and a rising sense of despair.
Chapter Fourteen
That night, after visiting with his mom and dad and a few aunts and uncles he hadn’t seen since Christmas, then stopping by a grocery store for flowers and a liquor store for wine,
Dalton was running about fifteen minutes behind schedule.
“I’ve been worried about you,” Rose said when he let himself in the loft’s back door. She stood at the stove, face flushed from steam rising from a cast-iron pot. “What took so—”
“Mr. Dalton!” Anna raced from her room, tossing her arms around him. “I missed you. Mommy said your dad’s sick. Is he going to be okay?”
“Sure, sweetie,” he said, kissing the top of her head. Lord, but he’d miss this child. But if there was one thing he’d learned from his father, it was that he didn’t want to raise a child in anything less than a one hundred percent happy home.
“Me and my bunny are watching Shrek. Wanna come watch with us?” She took his hand, dragging him toward the loft’s TV area.
“Thank you for asking, but I need to talk to your mom. Will you pay close attention so you can tell me what happens?”
“Okay.” After gifting him with another hug, she scampered off. His throat constricted painfully. How the hell was he supposed to do this? He wasn’t just breaking up with one girl he loved, but two.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Rose said, buttering an open loaf of French bread, “she adores you. Her mom does, too.”
Dalton’s heart shattered.
“You’re late. What took you so long?”
“These.” He handed her the gifts. “Am I forgiven?”
“Always.” Checking out the label on the pricey merlot, she said, “You have good taste. Plus, the wine happens to go with our main course.”
He sniffed the savory air. “Spaghetti?”
Rose grinned when Dalton’s face lit up at the prospect of indulging in his favorite meal. Thank goodness spaghetti was indeed on the menu. She didn’t want to let him down. Not even on something as simple as Monday-night dinner.
“How’d you guess?” From a shelf next to the sink, she took a cobalt-blue vase.
He pointed to his nose. “I’ve always had a knack for sniffing out my favorite foods.”
“Really? In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never noticed that about you.”
Dancing With Dalton (Fatherhood) Page 13
