A Natural Father

by Sarah Mayberry

  His father held Dom’s eye, waiting.

  “I can’t give her what she wants,” Dom said. “What’s the point in starting something that will only hurt her more in the end?”

  “This is Lucia’s decision to make, not yours.”

  Dom looked away from his father’s knowing eyes.

  “You know I right, Dominic.”

  Dom shook his head. What his father was asking was too much. He refused to set himself up for disaster again. He’d done the right thing. For both of them.

  To his surprise, his father stepped forward and patted his cheek, just as he used to when Dom was a very small boy.

  “You will work out. You smart boy,” his father said. “I want you to know, I very proud Saturday night. The party, the people, all the fancy pictures on the television.” Tony nodded his head sagely. “Very impressive. Very smart.”

  Dom smiled ruefully. “You don’t have to throw me a bone just because you caught me sooking, Pa.”

  His father frowned. “No bone. I go home, I look at the thing, the order thing you buy…?”

  “The handheld unit.”

  “Hmmm. Is not so hard.”

  Dom stared at his father. “You used the handheld unit?”

  His father shrugged, but Dom could see he was proud of himself. Dom snorted his amusement and surprise. Talk about leading a horse to water…Except this particular old donkey had taken his own sweet time in lowering his head for a drink.

  His father dusted his hands down the front of his apron.

  “You coming back to stand now?” he asked.

  “In a minute.”

  “Take your time,” his father said magnanimously.

  Dom stood in the dark for a few minutes after his father had left. After months of conflict, his father had finally come around. Unbelievable. Maybe now they could start streamlining the business, making things more efficient and cost-effective.

  Any satisfaction Dom felt faded as he remembered the look on Lucy’s face when she’d thrown his car keys at his feet.

  He’d hurt her. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do.

  He leaned against the cool metal wall, forcing himself to remember the passion in Lucy’s voice when she spoke of the importance of children in her life. It was all very well for his father to pat him on the cheek and say wise words, but he hadn’t been there when Lucy talked about wanting siblings for her daughter. And he hadn’t watched the wife he loved turn into a bitter stranger because a harmless virus had taken away his ability to be a father.

  Lucy would thank him in the long run.

  * * *

  LUCY SPENT THAT NIGHT with her sister going through her accounts with a fine-tooth comb, trying to find a way to buy Dom out of their partnership. Between bouts of pacing and ranting and sitting and sobbing, she ate chocolate-chip ice cream and far too many Tim Tam cookies.

  “I’m sorry,” Rosie said for the tenth time. “I feel so responsible. I practically pimped you out to him. I was so sure that you guys had this spark. The look he used to get in his eye when he was with you…But I guess I was wrong.”

  “You didn’t make me kiss him or sleep with him or fall in love with him. I did that all on my own—with a lot of help from Mr. I’m-Not-Going-Anywhere,” Lucy said bitterly. “I’m so stupid. I told myself over and over that I couldn’t afford to get involved with someone, let alone my business partner. I honestly don’t think there is a dumber woman alive. What was I thinking?”

  “Falling in love isn’t exactly a right-brain function,” Rosie said sympathetically.

  Lucy looked up from the spreadsheet she’d been studying.

  “Do you think if I show the bank the Web site and all the customers who have signed over to the new program and our new marketing plan they might reconsider the loan? It might be different now that I’ve got the Web site running.”

  “You can try. But there are clauses in the contract about you and Dom buying each other out. You need to get the business assessed by a small-business broker. He owns half of it now. Any improvement you’ve made means that his half is worth more, too.”

  Lucy sank back in her chair and reached for her spoon again.

  “Why did I do this to myself?”

  “Stop giving yourself a hard time. You fell in love. It’s not a crime. He made it incredibly easy for you to fall in love, too. And you had every reason to believe what he said to you. Up until now, he’s been the perfect man. Kind. Thoughtful. Always honest and reliable. Passionate. Committed.”

  Lucy felt tears welling again, and she held up a hand to stem the flow of her sister’s words.

  “Stop. Please.”

  Rosie pushed the ice-cream tub closer.

  “Have some ice cream.”

  Lucy sniffed and dug her spoon into the tub, but couldn’t summon the effort to pry it out again. She wasn’t hungry, she was heartbroken.

  “Did you get on to the counselor today?” she asked as she reached for another tissue.

  “Got my first appointment next week.”

  Rosie sounded nervous. Lucy blew her nose.

  “You’ll be fine. If you don’t like her, if it doesn’t make sense or feel like something that will work for you, you just don’t go again. Simple.”

  “I know. Just like changing hairdressers.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Except we’re talking about the inside of my head and not the outside.”

  Lucy couldn’t help smiling.

  “I’m so glad you and Andrew are talking again.”

  Rosie twisted her wedding ring around her finger, studying the single diamond for a moment.

  “I’m very lucky.”

  “He’s lucky, too, you know.”

  Rosie smiled. She looked very wistful.

  “There’s a stupid part of me that hopes I’ll walk in the door of this counselor’s office next week and she’ll wave a magic wand and everything will be okay. I won’t be scared anymore, no more doubts. I know it won’t work like that, that it’ll be hard. But still…”

  Lucy slid the spoon free from the tub and reached for the lid.

  “No more doubts. I’d buy a ticket for that,” she said.

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  They smiled at each other. Rosie took the ice cream from her and crossed the room to return it to the freezer.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked when she came back to the dining table.

  Lucy stared at her spreadsheet.

  “I’m going to endure,” she said finally. “I’m going to suck it up and keep running my business and seeing him every day, even though it will be one of the hardest things I have ever done.”

  Rosie watched her sadly.

  “I can do this,” Lucy said. “I’m tough.”

  “Like an old boot.”

  “Or one of those black box things that survive plane crashes.”

  “Or Mr. T, back when he was with the A-Team.”

  They both laughed.

  The smile faded from Lucy’s lips.

  “If only I could stop loving him,” she said quietly.

  Rosie didn’t say a word, simply reached out and rubbed her arm. What more was there to say, after all?

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY, Lucy sat in the van in the parking lot behind the market for a full ten minutes before she could summon the courage to get out and fill her order. She didn’t want to look at Dom, hear his voice, even say his name. But she’d already gone over all of that with her sister. She didn’t have a choice. Even if he wasn’t her business partner, his father was the best and cheapest fresh produce wholesaler in the city. Their lives were inextricably entwined.

  Hands tight around the push bar of her trolley, she walked slowly to the Bianco Brothers’ stall. Dom had his back to her as she approached, his head lowered as he talked intently to a tall, gangly young man. She didn’t need to see his high cheekbones and strong jaw to know he was a relative.

  Her stupid body hadn’t quite caught up
with the events of the previous day, and her heart gave a ridiculous kick as she stared at Dom’s broad shoulders and beautiful backside. For one night, he’d been hers, and it had been wonderful.

  Yeah, and you paid a bloody high price for the privilege, her cynical self chastised.

  The thought helped her square her shoulders as Dom turned around, almost as though he had sensed her approach.

  For a second he simply stared at her. She made a point of holding his gaze. He’d hurt her. She wasn’t about to pretend it was any different and she wasn’t ashamed of caring for him. He was the one who should be ashamed of the way he’d treated her—like the latest toy, to be played with until the next amusing thing came along.

  After a long silence, Dom gestured over his shoulder toward the young man.

  “This is my sister’s boy, Michael. He’s going to help you out with the deliveries until the baby’s due,” he said. “If things work out, he’s interested in the job driving the second van.”

  Her gaze flicked to Dom’s nephew. Michael gave her a little half smile and a wave, then shifted his feet awkwardly. Poor kid. She figured he had no idea what kind of a mess his uncle had dropped him in the middle of.

  “You don’t think this was something we should have discussed first?” she said, returning her attention to Dom.

  “Of course. But I figured you probably didn’t want to talk to me last night and that you wouldn’t want me doing deliveries with you today.”

  “Bingo.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You can’t do deliveries on your own, Lucy.”

  “What I do or don’t do is none of your business.”

  Dom’s jaw tensed again.

  “Actually, it is. If you hurt yourself on the job, Market Fresh is liable,” he said coolly.

  She took a breath to argue some more, but she could feel pressure building behind her eyes. She refused to cry in front of him. Owning her feelings was one thing, but blubbering in front of him was a whole other ball game.

  “Fine. Whatever. Michael, pleased to meet you,” she said, thrusting her hand at Dom’s nephew.

  “Oh, um, you, too,” he said, shaking hands awkwardly.

  “Let’s go.”

  She pushed the trolley past Dom and didn’t stop walking until she was as far from him as she could get and still be standing in front of Bianco Brothers’. Michael watched her anxiously as she breathed deeply and sniffed a few times.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay,” she said.

  “Do you want a handkerchief?” he asked.

  He offered her a neatly pressed white square. The sight of it made her laugh.

  “I bet your ma made you put that in your pocket this morning,” she said as she took it.

  “Won’t let me leave the house without one,” he grumbled.

  She blew her nose, then looked him in the eye.

  “Don’t tell your uncle I was crying,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “No way.”

  Dom kept his distance for the rest of her time at the market, and she didn’t look his way once. Still, she felt a little nauseous by the time Michael pushed the trolley back to the van.

  This was going to be hard—much harder than she’d thought. Seeing Dom every day. Driving around with his look-alike cousin in the van beside her.

  But that was what enduring was all about, right? Doing what you had to do, no matter what.

  “Okay, Michael,” she said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EIGHT WEEKS LATER, Dom checked his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.

  Lucy was late. He wondered if she’d changed her mind about coming. She hadn’t been exactly thrilled when he called to suggest a face-to-face meeting. Not that he blamed her.

  It was raining outside, pelting down. Briefly he wondered if he should call her, make sure everything was okay. He quelled the impulse. Probably the weather was slowing traffic.

  He pushed his coffee away. He was as nervous as a kid on a first date. Except this was no date. This was almost the exact opposite of a date, in fact—a meeting to dissolve his partnership with Lucy.

  He’d cut her free from their relationship, and now it was time to cut her free from their business contract.

  She was unhappy. He could see it in her eyes, the dullness of her skin, the downward slope of her shoulders. Being tied to him was difficult. Painful. Once their partnership was dissolved, she wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. Someone else could serve her when she came to the stand. Hell, he’d even make sure he was absent during the times she usually came to collect her supplies. That way, they’d never have to see each other at all. That should make things easier for her.

  He rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. He hadn’t counted, but he was pretty sure that if he cared to do the math, he’d work out that he hadn’t slept a full eight hours since the Sunday he’d realized that he was going to have to give Lucy up.

  So his motives weren’t entirely selfless in regard to dissolving the partnership. It was killing him having to deal with her all the time, too. He’d tried to make it as easy as possible—hiring Michael to help with deliveries so he could ensure she was looking after herself without physically being there himself, staying away from her when she came to the stand, keeping any business discussions brief and to the point and conducting as many of them as possible via e-mail.

  It didn’t make any difference. He still wanted her. He still dreamed of her. He still turned automatically toward the sound of her voice. His chest still ached when she laughed. Not that she’d been laughing much lately.

  He’d hurt her. But he hadn’t had a choice. He’d have only made her even more unhappy in the long run. This was the lesser evil, the kinder cut.

  It was the same thing he’d been telling himself over and over, and he was sick of hearing it. He shoved his cup even farther away and coffee lapped at the rim, almost spilling over.

  He knew the feeling. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the guilt, or the pain of being a part of Lucy’s world but not a part of it, but he’d felt damned close to spilling over a number of times lately. He’d been short with his father. He’d even snapped at his mother. He was pretty sure most of the staff members at Bianco Brothers’ were going out of their way to avoid him.

  He sat back in his chair and stared blindly out the window.

  How long did it take to stop loving someone? To stop dreaming of the smell of their skin, the feel of their hands on your body?

  How long did it take to kill a dream?

  Longer than eight weeks. But maybe dissolving the partnership would help. He bloody hoped so.

  The bell over the coffee-shop door rang and he looked up. Lucy met his eyes as she shook out her umbrella. She looked tired, drained. He’d arranged to meet at the end of her delivery run so they’d have more time to discuss things, but now he wondered if he should have made it a morning meeting.

  “You look tired,” he said as she joined him at the table.

  She didn’t respond. She dumped her umbrella under the table and lowered herself carefully into the chair. She’d grown in the past few weeks, her belly burgeoning into a classic pregnancy silhouette.

  “What did you want to see me about?” she asked.

  Her gaze was clear, her eyes distant.

  Right. Straight into business.

  “I want to dissolve the partnership,” he said.

  “I see.”

  He shoved a sheaf of papers across the table toward her.

  “I had my lawyer draw this up. This gives you full title to the company. Once we sign, Market Fresh will be all yours again.”

  She scanned the front page, then quickly flipped through the next few pages.

  “It doesn’t say how much you want. We need to get the company valued,” she said.

  “I don’t want you to buy me out. I’m signing my half over to you,” he said.

&nbs
p; She stared at him.

  “You’re giving it to me?”

  “That’s right.”

  She let her breath out in a rush, then she looked down at the papers in her hand for a long moment. She stood, her chair scraping across the café floor.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as she stooped awkwardly to collect her umbrella.

  “Home. Where I won’t be insulted.”

  He stood.

  “Wait a minute.” He grabbed her arm.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Lucy. Don’t be stupid,” he said. “Stay and talk it through.”

  She shook him off. Her eyes were wide with anger. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I am not accepting thirty thousand dollars of investment in my business because we slept with each other. I don’t believe I’ve sunk to the level of whoring just yet.”

  “For Pete’s sake—”

  “What else is it for then, Dom? It’s guilt money, pure and simple. And I am not your freaking charity case,” she said. Her voice quavered then broke on the final few words, but she kept staring him down.

  “That’s not the way I think of you,” he said.

  “What am I, then? A mistake you need to pay off?”

  “No.”

  She threw her hands in the air.

  “What, then? You tell me why you want to give me thirty thousand dollars for nothing.”

  “I want you to be happy. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Neither of those things are your responsibility,” she said.

  She turned to go. He grabbed her arm again.

  “Lucy—”

  She swung around on him. “No! You gave up the right to care about me when you cut me loose like some girl you’d picked up in a bar.”

  “I did you a favor, Lucy,” he said.

  She laughed, the sound hard and bitter. “Is that how you sell it to yourself? Wow, what a guy. You should go get yourself measured for a suit of armor. Make sure it’s nice and shiny.”

  She headed for the door. This time he let her go.

  She stopped on the threshold to fumble with the umbrella. He was about to head to the counter to pay his bill when she dropped the umbrella and clutched at her belly.

  He was at her side in two strides.