by Connie Cox
He paused, gathering his words.
“I must ask your forgiveness, Isabella.”
“Why, Papa?”
“I was weak where I should have been strong. I let Mrs. Beautemps take over when I didn’t have the heart to face my responsibilities. Your mother was such a good parent, making all the decisions, doing all the planning, bringing all the joy to our household. I never learned to live without her. Because of that, I failed you.” He gasped as if he had run out of air as well as out of words.
“No, Papa. Don’t say that.”
“You’ve been a good parent, Isabella, like your mother. But Adrian needs all the love he can get—and, Isabella, so do you.”
Emotion spilled from the eyes that used to be so stoic. He reached for his napkin but his gnarled hand couldn’t grasp the flimsy paper. As Isabella wiped his face for him, he touched her wrist. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”
“You’re not a burden, Papa. You’re my family.” Emotional overload had her pushing her chair away from the table on the pretense of going to the ladies’ room. “I’ll be right back.”
At the register, Isabella asked for the bill, knowing how much her father regretted having to rely on his daughter to pay his way. He may have been an excellent doctor, but he was a horrible money manager, as Isabella had discovered in the days following his stroke.
She dug through her purse for the familiar feel of her wallet, wincing every time she touched the panties she had forgotten to remove earlier.
After too many minutes of fruitless foraging, she had to accept her first fear. Her wallet had fallen out in Cole’s room.
The cashier narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “There’s no problem, is there?”
Isabella gave the woman a reassuring smile. “I have to make a phone call.”
She stepped away into the foyer with Cole’s card in her hand. When she had taken it from Adrian’s room, telling him he needed to let her know before he made a call, she had felt awkward, but now she was glad she had the tattered and bent card.
Cole answered on the second ring. “Adrian?”
She swallowed twice, trying to find her voice.
“I’m glad you called, son.” His voice sounded thick and emotional.
“Sorry to disappoint you but it’s not Adrian. It’s me—Isabella.”
“Yes?” This time he sounded cautious, as if expecting anything.
“I’m in a bit of a fix. When I spilled my purse, I think my wallet must have fallen under the coffee table.”
“Hold on. I’ll check.” After a moment of rustling noises, Cole came back on the line. “I have it here.”
“Could you bring it to me? I’m at Merci Beau Coup.”
“Yes, I can do that.”
“Thanks.” She looked toward her table where Adrian was again trying to hand his doctor doll to his grandfather. “And, Cole, could you just drop it off with the hostess? I’m...” How could she put this best? “I’m not alone.”
That probably wasn’t the best way, but her brain cells weren’t working at full speed right now.
“You’re asking me to stay out of sight around your friends? This sounds like old times, Isabella.”
“No, it’s not like that.” Isabella flushed, realizing how loudly she had spoken in such a public place. She lowered her voice. “I’m with my dad and he’s not very healthy. I don’t want to shock him.”
“I may not have been raised with your fancy manners, but I had no intention of bursting into the restaurant and announcing to all and sundry that we made love all night and all morning.”
The memory of those sweet lovemaking sessions warmed Isabella in so many places.
“Just bring the wallet, Cole.”
“Princess, your wish is my command.” The sound of the line going dead in her ear spoke a message louder than all the other noises around her.
A quick glance toward her table showed Adrian building a bridge with his French fries and her father slowly sipping his coffee. She would make a quick trip to the ladies’ room to compose herself before she rejoined her family.
But when she came out, she found Cole waiting for her.
* * *
He held out her wallet. “I’ve settled your bill.”
She reached for it, feeling like a charity recipient. “I’m not destitute.”
His hand brushed hers as she took the wallet from him. She jerked away as if he’d burned her. Why had she given in to that spark inside her? She should have known better than to play with fire.
“I’m making up for lost time. I should have been supporting you and Adrian for the last decade and a half. Consider it my first installment.”
From the corner of her eye she saw that Adrian had spotted Cole and was making his way toward them. “You’ve got to go.”
Cole turned to follow her line of vision. “Is that your father with Adrian?”
She nodded.
“When are you going to introduce me to your father?”
“When I’m ready.”
“It seems like I’ve heard that before—fifteen years ago, Bella.” He crossed his arms and gave her an uncompromising stare. “I don’t hide my relationships. I’m not that kind of man.”
They both watched as Adrian bumped chairs and waiters to get to Cole.
“Papa and I have just discussed my past—our past—and it’s still raw. Cole, please...” The last time she’d begged him had been in bed that morning. She had been ecstatic when he’d accommodated her then.
“Please, what?” By the way he arched his brow, she knew he remembered just as she did.
“That has nothing to do with this.” Her bravado failed her. She hugged herself, feeling totally vulnerable and alone. “Just go.”
Cole’s eyes flashed. “You won’t keep me away from my son.” He softened it with, “I’ll say hello to your father as one professional to another. It’s respectful.”
Professional courtesy would mean so much to her father. How could Cole know all her weak spots?
Twenty feet away, Adrian made a desperate twist and turn round the hostess who was seating a party of six to get to Cole.
Once he had closed the gap, he held out a bread basket. “Pigeons.”
A new word. Isabella struggled to keep her emotions in check. Her son was having a breakthrough, saying things and doing things he’d never done before. Isabella couldn’t ignore that Adrian’s progress had coincided with Cole’s appearance.
Cole took the basket his son shoved at him. “Pigeons?”
Adrian looked at his mother, his hand flapping in frustration.
Isabella smiled through the tears welling in her eyes. “We always walk to Jackson Square and feed the pigeons after we eat here. It’s a tradition.”
“I could do with a walk. Besides, I’ve broken enough of your traditions recently.”
At that, Adrian rushed back to the table, unlocked his grandfather’s wheelchair, and ever so carefully pushed it through the throngs of diners.
Cole held out his hand. “Dr. Allante, it is an honor to finally meet you.”
“Likewise. My grandson seems to be very fond of you.”
“We met when I volunteered at the special games.” How easily could that meeting have never happened. Even though he’d only known of Adrian for such a short time, he couldn’t imagine his son not being in his life.
Apparently, Adrian decided they’d had enough time for the social niceties as he started pushing his grandfather’s wheelchair toward the door.
He looked over his shoulder, giving Cole and Isabella a look that clearly said, Come on.
The hostess hurried toward them, carrying a paper sack. “Adrian, wait. Stale bread, with our compliments. For our favorite patron.”
Bella held her breath, waiting for Adrian to snatch the bag and bolt. He wasn’t very good at being approached by strangers. Her apologies were ready on the tip of her tongue.
Instead, Adrian gave a sideways look toward Cole as if to say, See
how they like me? Then he gave a polite nod to the hostess, snagged the bag and dropped it into his grandfather’s saddlebag.
Another breakthrough, as he showed off for his father. How could Cole just waltz into their lives and make such a huge difference in so short a time? What would happen when he left?
She wasn’t just thinking of Adrian’s reaction either.
* * *
Walking through the French Quarter, Cole couldn’t help but be proud of the woman next to him, who turned the heads of all the other men. He knew it was superficial to feel boastful about having the best-looking woman in New Orleans on his arm, but there was only so much natural inclination a man should have to suppress.
How could she make a simple T-shirt, khaki shorts and sandals look so sexy? In his own casual shorts, T-shirt and tennis shoes, he felt like part of a couple, complete and whole with his other half at his side. He felt like he belonged. It was a good feeling, a fifteen-year-old feeling, one he had never felt with any other woman except the one at his side.
Ahead of him, his son—his son!—pushed Bella’s
father. On the outside, it was a picture-perfect outing. But inside there was still so much to resolve. Complications abounded instead of the closure he’d hoped to find here.
Cole took a deep breath, trying to inhale it all. The sights, sounds and scents of New Orleans were like no other place in the world. Brine and humidity so thick it felt like a steam room. Splashes of color in flower boxes, on doors and in clothes. The cacophony of different languages, thick with accents, blending together to create an energy that exactly meshed with his own.
For all the years he’d called home the concrete, glass and neon of New York City, he had thought of New Orleans as a city of painful memories. Being back was a bittersweet homecoming.
And the beautiful woman next to him was responsible for a large share of the bitter as well as most of the sweet. Having Bella by his side made him temporarily forget all those old hurts—hurts she herself had inflicted.
That Bella had tried to smooth it all over by saying his not knowing had worked out for the best only fueled his fire.
Painful emotions crashed over him. Rejection of the boy from the wrong neighborhood. Betrayal with David. Missed years with his son.
Rage raced through him, rage and guilt. If he had only opened one of her letters, listened to one of her voicemails, he would have been taking care of his responsibilities all these years instead of being forever in Isabella’s and Adrian’s debt.
He could have made life better for her and for Adrian. Or maybe not. Bella was right. He’d had nothing to offer back then. And now?
What did he have that Bella or Adrian would want or need, other than money?
Bella must have sensed his change of mood—she always had—because she moved away on the pretense of inspecting a sidewalk artist’s abstract rendition of the Gulf of Mexico with a tropical storm approaching. Her face was still, a mask devoid of emotion—so different than the passion she showed him in bed.
The emotional distance she put between them felt wider than the physical distance.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, attempting to bridge the crevasse of silence.
She gave him a long look, as if she were trying to see inside his head—or his soul. “I like this one. All that energy about to be unleashed feels so powerful.”
Shrugging off her scrutiny, he said, “I would have guessed you preferred more formal, reserved work.” He gestured to the landscape in oils. The classic painting of a white-columned plantation home had a manicured lawn with mossy live oak trees in the foreground. “Proper and predictable.”
She gave him a sideways look as she took a step away. “I’ve been misjudged by a lot of people, Cole Lassiter. Don’t make the same mistake.”
Cole wanted to ask about the wistfulness in her eyes, but he had pushed too hard for now.
Instead, he gestured toward Adrian, who had stopped amid the fortune-tellers, artists and street performers in front of St. Louis Cathedral and locked his grandfather’s chair. The two of them were taking their time doling out the stale bread as they enjoyed each other’s companionship. Cole envied their closeness. “We might be here a while. Want to sit?”
“As long as I can keep an eye on them.” She held up her hand, shading her eyes and inadvertently showing off her small waist.
Last night, he had traced every inch of her perfect body, felt the hum of her excitement surround him and vibrate through him until he’d felt electric, charged—like the impending storm in the painting.
He had the urgent yearning to feel the life force that was so uniquely Bella. After their night together, a casual touch shouldn’t be a big deal. But Bella had pulled herself back with such reserve, Cole deliberated before breaching her barriers.
As he guided her to an empty bench a few yards away, Cole took a chance and rested his hand on the small of her back. His risk was rewarded when she didn’t pull away.
What was this energy between them? Nostalgia? Rekindled attraction? A whole new allure that had nothing to do with their past?
Was Bella as confused about this thing between them as he was?
* * *
The sounds of the Mississippi River, of ships and boats of every size and description, blended with a saxophonist’s song as he brought up music from his soul, hoping for spare change.
Bella breathed in the beautiful early evening and the joy of having her family at peace as the symphony of life played around her. These were the precious moments, the ones she worked so hard to preserve. Cole brought a different note to her song, but not a discordant one.
Adrian waved his hand at the pigeons, making them all fly. They settled back quickly enough, hoping he had dropped crumbs in his mad dash.
Nothing brought a smile to Adrian’s face like feeding these birds with his grandfather.
When Adrian smiled, Bella’s world lit up.
Cole’s smile affected her the same way. That had been her reaction from the start, all those years ago.
Sadly, both smiles were rare.
Adrian was growing up in so many ways yet still a child in so many others. What would happen to her son beyond her lifetime? What if she became ill? Who would take care of her child then? It was a worry parents of all special-needs children had—a worry they could never assuage.
Her sigh came from deep within before she could hold it back.
“Long night?” Cole’s deep voice rumbled in the same sexy way he’d whispered in her ear when they’d lain together after making love.
A delicious shiver went through her. She reminded herself that he would be on his way back to New York in the next day or two.
“So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours. Seeing you again, learning you’d never received my letters about Adrian, sleeping with you when I haven’t been with a man since—”
“Since when? Since David?”
She grinned at his bristling curiosity. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell. Let’s just leave that one unsaid, okay?” That she and David had never consummated their marriage wasn’t just her secret but David’s also.
She thought of all the women Cole’s name had been linked with. Not that it mattered. Last night had definitely been a one-night stand. This whole weekend seemed like a slice of unreality in her otherwise stable life. The surreal chaos would soon be over so she could go on with the orderly lifestyle she worked so hard to maintain.
She was glad of that. Wasn’t she?
“I’m setting up a trust fund for Adrian.”
The pride and independence Isabella had worked toward for so long warred with practicality.
At her hesitation, Cole added, “It’s my responsibility and my privilege. I insist on being part of his financial future and I will be contributing to his everyday expenses, too. He’s my son.”
While Cole’s abandonment of her had cut her to the bone, his paternity had been nothing more than an empty fact.
N
ow, on a deeper level, she acknowledged Adrian was Cole’s son as well as hers. “Yes, he is your son. Thank you.”
The admission felt like she was loosening her grip on her claim to parenthood. It was uncomfortable yet so very freeing to know she no longer carried the whole burden alone.
Her mind took a flight of fantasy. What would it be like to share day-to-day parenting with Cole? To share the bed with Cole every night? Never to be alone again?
Live in the moment, Bella, she told herself. Planning for an uncertain future is letting your dreams run away with your logic.
Still, it was nice sitting here with their shoulders touching and Cole’s warmth seeping into her. She wished this moment could last forever.
Just for the moment she would indulge in the fantasy that it could.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BELLA’S stillness unnerved Cole, making him yearn for action—like picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder, carrying her off to the nearest cave and not coming out for a week. But then what?
Uncertainty worked its wicked knife into Cole’s future, ripping to shreds all his plans of putting his past behind him.
One thing he knew without a doubt. As long as New Orleans held Bella and Adrian, it held a piece of him as well.
Around him, the world buzzed with movement. The exotic atmosphere of his home city was like no other in the world. He had been so anxious to escape all this.
A shrimp boat chugged by, the odor of diesel mixing with all New Orleans’ other scents. He couldn’t make out the crew on board but could too easily imagine a family of father, mother and two overgrown boys coming in with the day’s catch.
“Stop.” Bella put her hand over his clenched fist, startling him from his imaginings. “Whatever you’re thinking about right now, stop. You’re giving yourself pain.”
Cole opened his palm, hoping Bella would leave her hand in his. But she withdrew it, lacing her fingers together in her lap, clearly regretting reaching out to him.
“Sorry. It’s really none of my business how you choose to feel, is it?”
“Is this what you do? Is this kind of analysis part of your practice?”
