by Annie O'Neil
“It’s that obvious?”
“As the hand in front of my face.” He held up his palm for good measure.
“And here I was thinking I had it all under control.”
“Son, you have never—in your entire life—brought a woman home to us. It meant a lot to your mother and me. And we like her. We’d love for you to bring her by again.”
“We’re a bit late for that.” He all but ground out the words.
“Que? She’s gone?”
“Back to England.” Matteo hated saying the words. Hated the truth in them.
“And you will go for her?”
Matteo smiled, scrubbing at his jaw as he did.
“I think I didn’t make a very good impression.”
Should he tell him? Tell him he was going to be a grandfather?
“Mijo—can I give you a piece of advice?”
“I have a feeling I am going to get it whether or not I want it.” He gave his father a wry smile, the warmth of connection turning it into a toothy grin.
“Eh...” His father tipped his head back and forth. “You know your father better than I gave you credit for.” He pushed himself forward and locked eyes with his son. The first real moment they had shared in years.
“Mijo, when you are in the midst of something so painful you can hardly see straight, you often make bad decisions. We made a bad decision, your mother and I. Hell! We’ve made lots of them! If there were any advice I could give to you now—which I wish I’d known then, when we agreed to let your sister walk away from us—it is don’t be afraid of being wrong. A decision isn’t always worth sticking to. Particularly one made in the heat of the moment.”
Matteo felt the frenzied wheels of indecision churning in his mind begin to shift gear. Regroup.
What would it mean if he were... He could barely believe he was letting himself think the thoughts. What would it mean if he were to change his stance? God knew, he loved Harriet and when he had found out she was pregnant his first reaction had been a private swell of elation. One he’d hidden from Harriet as they’d each seen, for the first time, two little heartbeats. Chances were high Harriet wouldn’t have him now. Not after the way he had treated her.
But...the spark of possibility reignited his heart rate.
“Papa?” He pushed himself up and out of his chair.
His father waved away whatever it was he was going to say.
“Go. We will see you later?”
He gave his father’s shoulder a warm squeeze and dropped to kiss his cheek.
“Yes. Come for dinner,” his father called out to him, the words following him into the courtyard. “You whet your mother’s appetite to see more of her son. And perhaps a daughter-in-law?”
If there is even the tiniest chance, Papa...even the tiniest of chances...
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“CAFÉ CON LECHE, por favor.” Harriet enjoyed hearing the Spanish roll off of her tongue, the waiter accepting her order as if she had lived here all her life and having coffee in the square was perfectly normal. She’d missed the early flight and sitting in traffic for the next one when it was ten hours away? Bleuch. The world wouldn’t mind if she indulged in just an hour or so in the square where she had last been in Matteo’s arms.
She started. Things were different now.
“Descafeinado!” she called after the retreating waiter. It would be decaf from now on.
The waiter tipped his chin upwards, acknowledging her change of order. There would be so many changes to come.
She settled back into her chair, trying not to let herself feel too overwhelmed. This was a good idea. No, it isn’t. Yes. It. Is. She scolded herself. Matteo wasn’t evil, he was...he wasn’t able to free himself from the past. So she’d let herself indulge in the past for a bit—a past she’d have to let go of if she were to continue with any sort of strength.
Her mind flicked to her sister, busy with newborn twins. A twist of excitement squirmed through her. She would be telling her sister her news soon enough. Pregnant with twins! She gave a panicked little laugh. Wouldn’t it be chaos in their little London house? Two sets of twins, two single mothers... She chided herself for not ringing Claudia sooner. Tell her what was happening. Ask her advice. And how would she begin? Remember that sexy Latin doctor I told you about?
“Your coffee, señorita.”
Harriet froze. She knew that voice and it wasn’t that of the young waiter who had taken her order. Had she just conjured Matteo out of the ether? She didn’t even trust herself to turn around. Her eyes barely moved as the cup of coffee was slipped onto the table by a hand she also knew very well. Her eyes worked their way up along his wrist...a bit farther up, the sleeves of a white linen shirt were bunched once or twice over a well-defined forearm, proof the warmth of the day had increased. She smiled at the thought of just how lovely winter was in Buenos Aires. There would be a tiny bit of summer left in Britain before the days began to close in. Before the cold, dark British winter began.
Her vision began to blur as tears filled her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” She spoke more to her cup of coffee than to Matteo. She didn’t dare look at him.
“I’ve come to tell you what a fool I have been.”
Harriet turned at his words, the previously unspilled tears trickling down her cheeks as she did so.
“Come now, amorcita.” Matteo used the backs of his fingers to brush away her tears, tugging out a fresh handkerchief with his other hand as he did so.
“How did you find me?”
“I—I didn’t,” he confessed. “Not in the strictest sense.”
A streak of disappointment shot through her. Another mistake.
She tugged her hand away from his.
“No, mija. Listen. If I was trying to avoid you—would I have brought you your coffee? Be sitting here with you?”
Harriet kneaded her lips in and out of her mouth a couple of times, searching his beautiful green eyes for answers. Could she trust in him?
“Why are you here?”
“I wanted...” He hesitated. “I wanted to come back and think about last night. About telling you I loved you but that I couldn’t offer you anything.”
The words hung between them, heavy with self-recrimination.
Harriet shook her head. What was the point in this? More Poor me before she long-hauled it back across the Atlantic? She had enough baggage, thank you very much.
“So you’ve come here to make me feel worse than I already do? No, thank you.” She picked up her handbag and signaled to the waiter for the check. If the wounds she was already treating were going to be made deeper, she would have been better off sitting in the departure lounge all day. At least there she could think clearly about the future.
“No, not at all. Por favor, Harriet. Sit down.” Matteo wasn’t pleading but there was a depth of emotion in his tone that compelled her to stay put.
She gave him her best I’m listening face in a valiant attempt not to crumble to bits all over again.
“I came to try and re-create that moment in my mind, to try and picture how different things would be if I had just stayed open to possibility. To love. To love you, to love our children—” His voice broke as he continued. “I don’t think I was ever able to see how it would be possible to love a child of my own without feeling I’d betrayed my sister.”
“And what makes you think you can now?” Harriet struggled to keep the defensiveness out of her reply.
“You.”
Matteo’s beautiful green eyes met hers.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you make me better, Harriet Monticello. You helped me see I can be stronger, more courageous and capable of loving. I love you, Harriet. Te adoro. Eres mi angel!” He raised
his voice as if he were making a joyous proclamation to the square. Which, she realized with a sudden laugh of pure delight, he was.
Her eyes widened, lower lip caught between her teeth. This was a huge about-face. Could she believe him? His expression quickly sobered as the smile dropped from her eyes. “You’re my angel, Harriet. The woman who has made me see that life is for living, not regretting. Can you forgive me?”
“What for?” Harriet couldn’t even say the words. Her hands did an automatic trip to her midriff, weaving her fingers together across her belly.
“About our babies?”
“Twins can be a handful! Pregnancies don’t always go smoothly,” Harriet interjected, her eyebrows shooting high above her eyes. “You know what happened to my sister.”
“Two babies? Maybe there’ll be more after! As many babies as you want.” Matteo’s eyes glistened with excitement, his own hand reaching out to cover hers so that they lay entwined together on her belly. “There is one thing, though.”
“What?” The word shot out of her. She couldn’t do this, ride the emotional yo-yo. Not anymore.
“Will you marry me?”
They were words she had never even let herself imagine she would hear from him. She pored over every detail of his face, trying to glean the depth of truth in his intentions.
“Harriet?” Matteo teased her fingers out of the fists she had clenched them into. “Harriet Monticello...” he slipped from his chair and dipped onto one knee “...will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her nod was so slight at first that Matteo wasn’t entirely sure it was a yes. And then it grew, bit by bit until he was certain Harriet had accepted his proposal.
Without a moment’s further hesitation Matteo scooped her into his arms to take kiss after long-awaited kiss from her beautiful lips, a handful of nearby coffee drinkers applauding as they did so.
“It was fate, wasn’t it,” she whispered against his lips as their breathing steadied, forehead pressed to forehead. “Coming to the plaza.”
“If fate hadn’t lent a hand, amore...I can assure you I would have searched and searched the world until we were together again.”
“Forever?” she added, knowing in her heart it wasn’t necessary.
“Forever a family.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I CAN’T BELIEVE it’s going to be so big!”
“This is what happens when my father gets involved in anything.” Matteo’s hands made a shape of something regular sized then ballooned them until it was out-of-control enormous.
“You’re not basing that on my ridiculously huge stomach, are you?”
“Of course not, my love. Although...” Matteo eyed Harriet’s ever-increasing belly with a studied eye, running a hand across it for good measure. “Are you sure there aren’t triplets in there?”
“Oh, Dios! I hope not. I think two will be quite enough, thank you.”
“You wouldn’t have three?” Matteo feigned a hurt expression.
“Of course I would, my love.” She went up on tiptoe to give him a peck on the lips, staying just long enough to qualify her answer. “Just preferably not all at once. Besides...” she dropped back onto her feet “...it would be nice for Nicolette and Ramonita to have a little brother to tease one day.”
“Ever the practical one.” Matteo wrapped a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders, dropping a kiss atop her honey-blonde head.
“Practical?” Harriet laughed, thinking how much in her life had changed so quickly. After a whirlwind tour in London to meet up with her sister, the twins and her sister’s new husband, they’d come back to Argentina. Now—less than a year after hiding behind a curtain at the first sighting of her Argentine hunk—she was living in a new country, opening up the Ramona Torres Memorial Clinic, married to a man whom she couldn’t have dreamed up if she’d tried...and with twins on the way!
“If you call this practical, I’m happy to stay that way.” Her eyes widened suddenly, a sharp pain taking hold of her belly. “I think, darling—if we are to be practical—you better hurry up and cut the ribbon for the clinic. I might be needing it very, very soon!”
* * * * *
Look out for the next great story in
THE MONTICELLO BABY MIRACLES duet
TWIN SURPRISE FOR THE SINGLE DOC
by Susanne Hampton
And if you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Annie O’Neil
LONDON’S MOST ELIGIBLE DOCTOR
ONE NIGHT...WITH HER BOSS
DOCTOR...TO DUCHESS?
THE FIREFIGHTER TO HEAL HER HEART
All available now!
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ISBN-13: 9781488009686
One Night, Twin Consequences
Copyright © 2016 by Annie O’Neil
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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