The Wrong Man (Love Unexpected)
Page 15
“Yes, I am pregnant, but how could you think Carter—”
“What I saw tonight makes me wonder. I didn’t know you two were so cozy.” A healthy dose of bitterness and anger dripped from his voice, and he gripped the steering wheel so hard she saw the whites of his knuckles. “Have you been seeing him all along? Did you take him to the party instead of me?”
“No! Absolutely not, to both questions. My grandmother invited him, and I was about to leave when he offered me a ride home. I have not been seeing him—at least not in the way you mean. We’ve had lunch a few times, but that’s it. You have to believe me.” She touched his arm and the bicep flexed. She withdrew, unsure what such a reaction meant. “You’re the father. I swear, and I planned to tell you, but we argued and I didn’t get a chance to.”
He remained silent, and for a few miles, she only heard the sound of the motor and the swish of vehicles going by. He seemed to be turning everything over in his head. “Are you keeping our baby?”
Our baby. Hearing him say the words out loud created a surge of emotion. She loved him so much. She couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than having his baby. “Yes, I am.”
His shoulders relaxed and he let out a long breath.
Talia hadn’t known what to expect and certainly hadn’t intended for him to find out this way. She’d pretty much decided if he didn’t want to have anything to do with her and the baby, she’d be fine and handle the situation on her own. But Tomas obviously wanted this child, and his response surpassed her expectations. Despite her independence, despite the strong front she portrayed to him, knowing she didn’t have to do this alone filled her with an overwhelming sense of relief.
He turned in her direction with an indecipherable expression on his face. “We have decisions to make. Together.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Tomas pulled into a parking space outside of Talia’s condo. She opened the door on the ground floor and without waiting to see if he followed, started up the stairs. Her ebony hair was gathered at the nape in a thick ball held in place with a diamond-studded clip. With the two-carat diamonds in her ears, she epitomized class in her figure-hugging dress. He watched the sway of her hips and round ass as he climbed behind her, angry at the way she made his body ache in unfettered desire even when she upset him.
He’d spent the past couple of days trying to figure out whether or not being with Talia was worth the headache, and he kept coming to the same conclusion. She was worth it. Worth getting dressed up to see if he could impress her surly grandmother. Worth sharing his life and the good and bad disruptions that came with having her in it. Worth fighting to hold onto her, even if she didn’t think he fit into her world.
“Would you like anything to drink?” she asked.
“What do you have?”
He followed her across the thick white carpet. In the kitchen she held up a bottled water and a Corona. Careful not to touch her and lose what little control he possessed not to yank her into his arms and kiss her senseless, he took the beer—his favorite, which she’d gotten into the habit of keeping in the refrigerator for him.
“How far along are you?”
“Seven weeks.”
She took a swig of the water and he gulped the beer.
“You should have told me right away.”
She stared down into the bottle. “I know. But we had that argument and…” She shrugged.
Unspoken pain suspended in the air between them, but he didn’t want to relive their last argument. He’d spent enough time brooding over what he should have said and should have done.
“We need to make some decisions,” he said.
She walked over to the white sofa and slipped off one of his favorite pairs of her heels—a pair of black Alexander McQueen pointy-toed pumps with gold tips. He loved to see her dainty feet in those shoes, prancing around butt naked until he couldn’t take any more torment and grabbed her.
She curled her bare feet under her.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
“Yes.” She averted her face.
He followed her to the sofa and sat beside her. “Look at me.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said in a soft voice.
“So how did it happen?”
“I messed up with my shots.”
She hung her head and it took a moment for him to realize she was crying. Her small shoulders shook, and the trembling was even more painful to watch because of the quietness of her weeping.
He muttered an expletive and pulled her to him, her petite frame fitting perfectly into the crook of his arm. Always had fit since the first time he held her. She buried her face in his shoulder and drew a long quivering breath, fresh sobs rocking her.
Much as she drove him crazy, he couldn’t imagine life without her. He rested his cheek against her thick hair and inhaled the rosemary and mint scent, reminding him of all the times he’d rolled over in bed and pulled her curvy body closer. At times he’d delayed changing the pillowcases so he wouldn’t lose the scent of her in his bed.
She wiggled free and he reluctantly let her go. “Sorry,” she mumbled, wiping her cheeks. She stood and walked away. Without turning around she said, “I’m going to change.”
She went upstairs and Tomas dropped his head against the back of the sofa to stare up at the twenty-foot ceiling.
He was going to be a father.
Maybe the gravity of the situation hadn’t sunk in yet, but the thought didn’t scare him at all. In fact, a sensation akin to joy—euphoria, even—filled him. He’d always been extra careful with the women he slept with, but his relationship with Talia had been different. He’d more or less lost his mind with her and become so comfortable that after the first night they’d never used protection again.
“Padre,” he said aloud, trying out the word to see how he liked the sound. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He derived the kind of exultant pleasure from the word he imagined could only be surpassed when he actually heard his son or daughter call him father.
By the time Talia returned, he’d finished the beer, removed the jacket and tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Talia had changed into a pair of jeans and a pale pink blouse. Her face had been washed clean of makeup and her eyes gave no indication she’d been crying.
Typical Talia. Present an exterior of perfection even though she hurt inside.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were crying. You’re upset. You’re emotional. You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending. I’m fine.” She held up a menu. “Are you hungry? I mean, if you aren’t, that’s okay. I was going to order some food.”
“I could eat.”
“The Jamaican place?”
“Sure. Oxtails and red beans and rice for me. Don’t forget to order extra plantanos—”
“Plantanos.” They completed the sentence at the same time. “I know.” Talia went into the kitchen and picked up the phone.
She always teasingly corrected him, “It’s plantains,” and he would say plantanos so she would do it. It had become a joke between them that sometimes he’d purposely use Spanish words so she could correct his English, but she didn’t this time. They’d shared numerous moments like that, inside jokes no one else understood, sometimes speaking in tones that provoked concern in others because they didn’t understand the way he and Talia badgered each other was just their way.
While she ordered the food, he went into the bathroom and washed his hands, and when he came out she’d already put down the phone and sat on a chair. He lowered onto the sofa across from her.
“Are you ready to talk?” he asked.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why didn’t you want me to meet your grandmother?”
He needed an answer to that question because it had caused the argument. If she couldn’t acknowledge their relationship, what future did t
hey have? And without a doubt, he knew he wanted a future with her, but he couldn’t be sure she wanted one with him. For the first time in his life, his rock solid confidence had been shaken.
Deep in thought, Talia stared down at her fingers. “My grandmother and I have a complicated relationship. She raised me after both my parents died. You know my mother died giving birth to me and my father died a few days later. But I didn’t tell you he died because he’d lost the love of his life, gone to a bar and gotten drunk. I think the Fates had a vendetta against us because he ran off the road and later died of complications from his injuries.”
She drew air into her lungs with a sharp inhale. “My paternal grandmother couldn’t take care of me, and even though Grandmother had disowned my mother after she became pregnant, she took me in and hired a live-in nanny to care for me. We have this weird relationship, where she makes me feel like crap, and I do everything I can to prove I’m not crap.” She sighed. “She wouldn’t have approved of you, Tomas, and that’s why I never introduced you. Not because I was ashamed of you, but because I wanted to protect what we had from her. I knew she would try to kill it and I didn’t feel strong enough to fight her. I always felt like I owed her and wanted to make her proud of me. And I wanted to be worth it.”
“Worth it?” Tomas said quietly.
Talia hung her head and tears fell onto her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped them away. “For a long time I’ve felt guilty about my parents’ deaths,” she said, her voice wobbling uncontrollably. “I wanted to be successful and achieve great things so the choice my mother made, to have me, wouldn’t be in vain. I felt I had to do something—anything—to prove I was worth…dying for.”
He’d had no idea she suffered from such flawed reasoning. He ached to pull her into his arms and ease away the hurt, but before he could get a word out, she continued talking. She told him about the confrontation with her grandmother at the party, and when she finished her recap, she fell silent, eyes on him, waiting.
“You told her you love me?” Tomas asked quietly.
“Yes.” Talia couldn’t read his expression. She stopped breathing, hoping he’d forgive her and believe her.
“Ven acá.”
She needed no further urging. She jumped up from the chair onto his lap. Straddling him, she melted into his embrace and buried her face in his neck.
“I shouldn’t have let you leave thinking I didn’t want to be with you, because that’s absolutely not true. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave.” Her voice was muffled from her lips being pressed to his skin.
She begged without begging, her arms tight around his neck. She’d been afraid she would never know this feeling again—to be wrapped tight in his arms and breathe the intoxicating mixture of citrus cologne and his natural male scent. To draw strength from him and know she was worthy, and beautiful, and warm—all the attributes she’d never been allowed to acknowledge until he came along and convinced her otherwise.
Tomas gently kissed her lips, sending delicious tingles through her. Content, she rubbed her nose against his and smiled.
“I love you, too,” he said. He brushed a hand over hair and stared into her eyes. “Did you know?”
“I do now,” she whispered. She ran a hand down the front of his shirt. “I can’t believe you put on a jacket and tie. For me?”
“I remembered you’d met your ex-husband at a political party, so I couldn’t let you go and meet some other man. I figured if I was going to compete, I had to look the part.”
“Trust me, you have no competition, and I love you just the way you are.”
“So I could have shown up at the party in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt?”
“Well…”
“I’m kidding.” He chuckled. That laugh. His beautiful, beautiful laugh.
“Thank goodness.”
Tomas sobered and cocked his head. “What about the situation with your grandmother, Talia? Do you think she meant what she said about cutting you out of her life?”
Her shoulders slumped. “My grandmother only says what she means. So the answer is yes. She meant what she said and won’t change her mind.”
“You never know. One day…”
Talia shook her head. Optimistic thoughts would only lead to disappointment. “No.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy and take care of you and our baby.” He clasped her face between his hands. “We’re raising this child together, and no one else comes between us. Understand?”
She nodded. “No one,” she agreed.
“And we’re getting married.”
Startled, Talia wrapped her fingers around both of his wrists. “Tomas, we don’t have to do that.” Not that she didn’t want to, but the last thing she wanted was for him to feel some type of obligation to marry her.
“I want my child to have my name.” He spoke in a calm, firm voice. The tone he always used which meant he wouldn’t accept counter arguments.
“Your name will be on the birth certificate.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, “I want you to have my name.”
A pleasurable warmth seeped into her bones. “Hypothetically speaking, if we got married, I wouldn’t take your name. You’d be lucky if I hyphenate mine.”
He dropped his hands and stared at her in disbelief. “You’re going to tack Molina to the end? Whenever I see those names, the second name looks like it’s going to fall off.”
“Well, that’s what we’re going to do. Be thankful I’m even marrying you.”
A broad grin spread across his mouth. “Is that your way of saying yes?”
“Maybe,” she said coyly. “You didn’t exactly ask me the right way. Where’s the ring? And you’re supposed to get down on one knee and bring me flowers and there’s supposed to be a big production.”
“I don’t do big productions. Are you going to marry me or not?”
She pouted and he pulled her in to kiss away the pout and rub her back. The small, circular motions soothed and sent shivers running the length of her spine. “Fine, yes,” she said with fake reluctance against his mouth, as if there had been any other option. “I guess I’ll marry you.”
They kissed long and slow. When they finally came up for air, they laid on the sofa together with him curled around her back. They discussed their future and the coming baby and argued about which one of them would spoil him or her most and which one would be the better disciplinarian. He placed his hand on her belly and she laid her hand over his, as though they practiced for the day when they would feel their child moving inside her womb.
And long after their dinner arrived, they continued to discuss what the future would hold.
Chapter Twenty-four
Two days later they skipped work and spent the day at Tomas’s house. Since arriving there, he’d been acting odd. He kept checking his watch and looking out the window. When Talia asked him what was wrong he said nothing, but she knew something was amiss.
The next thing she knew, he hustled her outside and told her to look up. Her wonderful fiancé had invested in a big production after all. An airplane had skywritten Talia, will you marry me?
Tears filled her eyes. “How much did that cost, you crazy man?”
“Too much, and you don’t deserve it.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed the back of her neck. “Maybe you deserve it a little bit,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“I can’t wait, either,” she whispered back.
****
The wedding and reception were simple but elegant affairs. A few invited guests joined them for a candlelight ceremony in the Venetian Room in the historic Hurt Building of downtown Atlanta. Talia chose the colors Tiffany blue and silver, and both she and Tomas had their best friends, Ryan and Shawna, stand with them. Talia had contacted her grandmother and asked her to come, but Maybeth wouldn’t budge on her decision to cut Talia from her life—the only black mark on an otherwise beautiful night.
Despite the broken relationship with her grandmother, the rest of Talia’s life cruised along perfectly. She reached out to her father’s side of the family, and they welcomed her as if she’d been gone on a long vacation and they were glad to see her return safely. At work she approached Jay about letting her telecommute a few times per week so she could spend more time at the house in the country.
To her surprise, Jay had been amenable to the idea. He suggested more staff members could take advantage of the perk and instructed Human Resources to work on a policy for flex schedules and telecommuting.
Although she moved into Tomas’s house, they held onto her condo because of the convenient location. They couldn’t decide whether or not to rent it out, and sometimes they stayed there during the week and walked to their favorite restaurants in the neighborhood when they didn’t cook at home.
The Johnsons approved the beer ad campaign, and Lillian’s idea for a daycare was accepted with few modifications. Although it wouldn’t be ready in time for when Talia’s baby was born, she planned to take advantage of the facility once the daycare was open and staffed.
****
Their baby arrived one spring day, two days before they expected him…
“Push!” the doctor said.
“Goddammit, I am pushing!” Talia flopped back on the hospital bed, droplets of sweat beaded on her forehead. “When do the drugs kick in?”
“In about fifteen minutes,” the doctor assured her.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she whimpered. She reached for Tomas’s hand. “I change my mind.”
“It’s too late,” Tomas said. Her face was scrunched in agony, and he wished he could take the pain from her. “You’re going to give me my son or I’ll never forgive you.”