And Babies Make Five

by Judy Duarte

“I had my secretary call around, then drive all over town to buy three that matched so we wouldn’t have to order them.”

  “You’ll have to thank her for me.”

  He grinned. “Are you kidding? She was thrilled to do it. Apparently, no one has ever paid her to go shopping before, and she wondered if I needed anything from Nordstrom.”

  Samantha laughed, then turned to everyone in the room. “Thank you so much for thinking of me and the babies. You have no idea how much this means or how much I appreciate it. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

  Then she got up from the chair and gave Yolanda a hug. Well, she tried to. They had the same problem with their pregnant bellies getting in the way.

  “Let’s get some pictures of you by the cake,” Yolanda said.

  Moments later, as flashes from several cameras went off, Samantha couldn’t help but smile. She was going to have a ton of pictures, which was great. She wanted something to help her remember this day and how special it had been.

  The Garzas were wonderful people, and she was so glad that she had the chance to meet them. She couldn’t help comparing them to the Keatings. The couples were so different from one another, yet she realized her children would benefit from knowing both families.

  “Hey,” Yolanda said to Hector as she reached for a knife to cut the cake. “Why don’t you take Samantha into the living room and get cozy?”

  Hector, who’d been watching the amateur photo shoot with a grin, said, “I’d be happy to.”

  He placed a hand on Samantha’s lower back and guided her out of the small dining room and into the living room.

  “Surprised?” he asked.

  “You have no idea.”

  “I knew Yolanda was up to something, and she called a couple of days ago to give me a heads-up. I hope you don’t mind that I kept it a secret.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Hector was tempted to reach for her hand, to hold it as he had so many times when they’d been home alone, but he wasn’t quite sure he ought to make a public display in front of his family. He didn’t need them to press him for more details than he was willing to share. At least, not until he knew for sure where their relationship was heading.

  He had a pretty good idea, though. He was getting dangerously close to falling for Samantha, if he hadn’t done so already.

  As they sat side by side, he stole a glance at her, saw her hand resting on her belly.

  Last night, as he’d leaned close and waited for one of the babies to move, he hadn’t felt anything. But he’d smelled Samantha’s springtime-scent, felt the warmth of her breath and the throb of her pulse just under the skin, and he’d been hard-pressed not to carry her to his bed.

  But he would bide his time until her doctor gave the okay. There was no way he’d put her at risk for premature labor and jeopardize the health of the babies.

  Damn. He was more attracted to Samantha than he’d been to another woman in years.

  Or ever.

  He snuck another glance her way. Would she think he was out of line if he reached over and touched her belly again?

  Yolanda had let him feel her baby tumbling around once, and it had been amazing. But he didn’t think this was the place to ask.

  They stayed and visited for another half hour or so, and as everyone began to leave, Hector leaned toward Samantha and whispered, “Are you ready to go, too?”

  “Sure. Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?”

  “Not at all.” He got to his feet, then reached out to help her up. He held her hand, as well as her gaze, for a bit longer than necessary. Then he watched her leave the room.

  He must have had a wistful stare on his face, because his mother eased close to him and said, “She’s a lovely woman, mijo.”

  “I know.”

  “Is it serious?”

  What should he tell her? Yes, it is? No, not yet? But his mother had always been able to see right through him, even when others couldn’t. “It seems to be getting that way.”

  “For what it’s worth, your father and I like her. And we’ve noticed a glow about you.”

  Hoping to diffuse the seriousness of the conversation, he laughed it off. “Don’t tell me that pregnant glows are contagious.”

  “Don’t make light of it, mijo. For the past few years, whenever you walked into a family party or get-together, there was always a cloud of tension hanging over you. But it’s gone, and an aura of happiness surrounds you now. So don’t blame me for wanting it to last.”

  He didn’t respond, didn’t dare to.

  When Samantha returned, they said goodbye and climbed into his car. On the way home, she told him how much she enjoyed being with his family, how much she liked his sister.

  “Diego’s nice, too,” she said. “Chad told me that he just got his contractor’s license and has started his own company.”

  “That’s true. He’s always worked in construction, so I’m glad to see him take that step. In fact, he’s the one who suggested I buy the house on Primrose Lane. He’d heard it was a distress sale and knew I’d been looking for a good deal on a fixer in a nice neighborhood. It was pretty run-down and needed work, but the price was right. And Diego did most of the work for me.”

  “It must be nice to have loving siblings who look out for you. My babies are going to be lucky that way.”

  Hector suspected her kids were going to be fortunate, but mostly because they would have a great mother.

  Five minutes later, Hector turned onto Primrose Lane and drove to his house, figuring he’d just park in his driveway and carry Samantha’s baby gifts to her house.

  Maybe, afterward, they’d put on a movie.

  But as he neared his place, he spotted a cream-colored Bentley parked in front of Samantha’s house.

  “Looks like you’ve got company,” he said.

  “It’s Randall and Marian Keating.”

  He’d never met the couple, but annoyance settled over him, and he wondered why they had to show up and put a damper on what otherwise had been a nice evening.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hector pulled into his driveway and parked, but his movements were stiff as he swung open the door and climbed out of the Beemer.

  It shouldn’t bother him that Peter’s parents had stopped by to see Samantha. And it shouldn’t surprise him that they’d maintained a connection. After all, Mrs. Keating had called Samantha the other day and had invited her to the house for dinner—and to the country club for lunch in the future.

  But even that phone call had made him uneasy.

  Before he could open the passenger door for Samantha, she’d done so herself. Then she strode toward the ultra-luxury sedan that must have cost well over a hundred grand, maybe even two.

  Noting her approach, the well-dressed couple in their mid-sixties exited their car and met her partway.

  “I guess we should have called first,” Mrs. Keating said, as she greeted Samantha with a hug and one of those air-smacking kisses.

  A part of Hector wanted to be polite and retreat into his house so Samantha and her former in-laws could talk alone, yet another, more territorial and vocal part of him insisted that he greet the Keatings, too. That he let them know he was involved with her, at least on some level.

  Needless to say, the side of him that harbored his better judgment lost. So he sauntered toward the couple and slapped an easy-going grin on his face when he felt anything but.

  When Mrs. Keating looked up and noticed him, her perfectly coifed head tilted slightly, her eyes narrowed and her expression clouded.

  “This is my neighbor,” Samantha said. “Hector Garza.”

  The use of the word neighbor to describe him stung like jalapeño juice on a paper cut, and he prickled. But he reached out a hand in greeting, first to Peter’s father, then to his mother.

  “How do you do?” Randall said.

  “Great.”

  Returning his focus to Samantha, the older man said, “We stopped by to see how yo
u’re doing.”

  Marian added, “And to ask if we could see what you’ve done with the nursery so far, to see what you might need.”

  They certainly seemed supportive of their former daughter-in-law and her new family; he’d have to give them credit for that.

  “If you need anything,” Randall said, “anything at all, just let us know. We still can’t believe you’d do this for us.”

  Do what for them?

  Hector’s mind sparked, just as it did when he was on the verge of catching a witness in a bald-faced lie on the stand.

  Samantha splayed her hand over her belly, as though shielding her babies. He stole a peek at her face, only to see that she’d paled, that she wore a pregnant-doe-in-the-headlights expression. At least, it seemed to him that she had.

  Damn, Hector thought. What in the hell had she done? Had she offered them a grandparent role in her babies’ lives?

  If so, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “Oh, dear,” Marian said. “Randall, I can’t believe I left that photo album in the car. Will you get it for me, sweetheart?”

  Randall chuckled. “She had poor Antonia looking high and low for that thing. She wanted to show you pictures of Peter as a baby. She thought you might enjoy seeing what he looked like.”

  As Randall went out to the car, Hector drew himself up straight and tried to sort through what was being said, tried to grasp the subtext under the surface.

  “With three babies,” Marian said, “I’m sure one will take after its father.”

  Father? Peter had been the sperm donor?

  Oh, for cripe’s sake. The Armstrong Fertility Institute. In vitro fertilization.

  What do you know about the father? he’d asked her.

  Actually, quite a bit.

  It didn’t take a brain surgeon to connect the dots, and he felt as though someone had kicked him in the gut. And that someone was Samantha.

  Why hadn’t she told him?

  “Hey, listen,” he said to her. “I’ll bring those gifts over later.” He nodded toward his house. “I’ve got some things I need to do while you show your in-laws the nursery.”

  He could have thought of them as her former in-laws, but that was clearly not the case. Samantha had never gotten over Peter’s death. She still loved him. How could she not? In fact, she planned to have some kind of family with the guy, just as though he’d taken a trip to Europe and would be back next month.

  There were a hundred times she could have told him that she’d frozen Peter’s sperm, that she’d decided to have a dead man’s family. But she’d clearly held back, keeping it a secret.

  Why?

  It made no sense. But he knew one thing, if she’d been upfront with him, they never would have gotten involved; they never would have kissed.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” she said. “Okay?”

  “Sure.” But he didn’t want to hear any explanations, any excuses. He just wanted to go home and lick his wounds. But then again, with those baby gifts in the trunk of his car, he’d be forced to listen.

  As he reached the front door, Randall returned with the photo album and gave it to his wife. “On second thought,” Hector said. “Randall, why don’t you come with me? Samantha has some baby gifts in the trunk of my car. You can help me carry them inside her house.”

  There weren’t that many gifts, so with Randall’s help, they made fast work of the chore.

  As Hector carried the cradle toward the front door, he glanced Samantha’s way and caught her eye. Her gaze seemed to say We need to talk; I can explain. But he wasn’t up for it. Not now.

  After dropping the gifts and the cradle off in the nursery, Hector let himself out of her house. He’d hoped to feel some relief after he left, but even as he crossed the lawn into his own yard, his heart ached like a son of a gun.

  He let himself into the house and shut the door, still hoping for that sense of relief. But there was none to be found.

  Samantha’s betrayal and his disappointment hurt like hell, and for some reason, the pain that lingered was far worse than it had been when Patrice had left him.

  Samantha was heartsick that Hector had learned her secret the way he had, and she kicked herself for not telling him sooner.

  Who would have guessed that the Keatings would just stop by unannounced like that? They’d never done so before.

  If she hadn’t been so unbalanced by the mess she’d made of her budding relationship, of the pain she’d seen on Hector’s face and his fierce attempt to hide it, she would have thought their enthusiasm for their new grandbabies was sweet. But all she could think of was sending the couple on their way so she could walk next door and try to pick up the pieces of a romance that had scarcely gotten off the ground before it crashed and burned.

  Hector had put up a false front, but she’d seen him stiffen, seen the tension in his brow. She’d wanted to explain, to tell him that she loved him, that she was sorry. But she’d had to wait for over an hour for Marian and Randall to leave.

  As soon as the Bentley was out of the neighborhood, she headed to Hector’s. In the past, she would have let herself in, using the key he’d given her if she had to. But something told her she needed an invitation this time.

  She rang the bell, then waited for him to answer.

  And then she waited some more.

  Was he in the shower? Out in the garage or in the backyard? Impulsively, she reached for the knob, then drew back her hand again.

  About the time she was going to turn around and head back home, the door swung open. But just partially.

  “Hey,” she said, trying to manage a smile.

  But it didn’t seem to work.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think it was any of your business at first. And then… Well, I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

  He crossed his arms, making his biceps flex. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “Of course!”

  “When?” he asked. “Before or after the kids went to kindergarten?”

  “I thought that—”

  “That I’d never need to know? That I’d probably never find out? That wasn’t fair, Sam.” Anger and disappointment flared on his face, and she realized he wasn’t just dragging his feet about letting her in the house this evening. He was actually shutting her out of his home, out of his life.

  And she could hardly blame him. “You’re right, Hector, and I’m sorry. I’d really like to work through this.”

  “I don’t see how we can. Peter is going to be a part of your life for as long as you live.”

  She placed her hand on her belly, shielding the kids from the truth, which shouldn’t be so painful, but it was.

  “I didn’t realize how much you despised him.”

  “It’s not that I hated him. I just didn’t like him very much. I didn’t respect him, either. And for what it’s worth, those feelings were mutual.”

  “And you’re holding that animosity against me and three babies?”

  “No, I’m not. But I’m not going to compete with a memory. The best I’d ever do is come second place.” He straightened his stance, digging in his heels, it seemed. “And on top of that, a relationship based on a lie, even one of omission, doesn’t stand a chance in hell.”

  She wanted to argue otherwise, but how could she when she realized he was right?

  For a moment, she opened her mouth to tell him that she loved him, to promise that she’d never keep anything from him again. But what was the use? They had two strikes against them already: he’d already made up his mind, and the babies she was carrying were Peter’s.

  The third and final strike was a given: no matter how much she loved Hector, her children would have to come first.

  Hector had held his ground on Saturday night like a true champ, but he hadn’t felt at all like a winner. His sense of loss had been too great.

  It had taken him ages to fall asleep, and he’d tossed and tu
rned until dawn. Instead of feeling refreshed, he woke in a foul mood and ready to snap.

  After breakfast, he decided to take the cradles he’d been storing in his garage to Samantha’s house. He wasn’t looking forward to rehashing the words they’d had yesterday or revisiting the pain of her deceit and ultimate rejection.

  Still, when she failed to answer the door, and he realized she wasn’t home, he’d been more disappointed than he would have imagined. But he was determined to face the facts; whatever they’d had was over.

  He still had the spare key to her house that she’d given him, so he let himself in and placed the cradles in the center of the living room where she was sure to see them. Then he left her keys on the mattress of one of them.

  Maybe he was taking the coward’s way out by not handing over the keys personally, but if he talked to her for any length of time, he was afraid he’d roll over. And then where would he be?

  Whatever they’d shared, whatever he’d hoped it might have become, had died a fool’s death.

  Yet that didn’t make him feel the least bit better.

  When Samantha had come over to apologize the other night, for a moment he’d waffled and almost said, “Sure. Why not? Let’s see where this relationship is headed. I’ll play second fiddle to your first husband.”

  But he knew where it was headed—nowhere.

  And he’d never played back-up to anyone in his life. As far as he was concerned, second place was the same thing as first loser. So he’d stood straight and proud.

  And broken.

  As she’d turned to walk away, he’d watched her go, but only for a minute. It hurt too bad to stand there and suffer in silence. So he’d closed the door, hoping to shut out the sense of betrayal, the sense of pain.

  Instead, he’d suffered a crushing blow that had hurt a hell of a lot more than when Patrice had left him.

  It was then that he’d realized he’d fallen hopelessly in love with Samantha. But he’d also been faced with the fact that she still loved a memory, that she’d never be able to let Peter go. And that his kids would be an ever-constant reminder of the mental and emotional memorial she’d built for him in her heart.