Her Boss's One-Night Baby (HQR Presents)

by Jennie Lucas

  “I love you, Antonio,” his mother said, wiping the tears still glimmering in her eyes. “And your wife. For bringing you back to me.”

  He lifted his head. “My wife...”

  Josune gripped his hand. “Never forget to tell her you love her. We always must tell each other. Because you never know how many chances we have.”

  Antonio looked at his mother as a crack of brilliant, warm gold light finally broke through the gray clouds.

  Memory stirred. Gold through the cracks. He heard his wife’s voice, telling him about broken Japanese pottery rejoined by solid gold. Something broken and repaired is more precious and beautiful than something unused and whole. It shows history. It shows life.

  “You’re right.” Rising to his feet, Antonio said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Go, my son.”

  Turning, he started running down the hall of the hospice, out into the misty village above the sea. To find his wife.

  To find his heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “YES, OF COURSE I will marry you!”

  Hana smiled as she watched her best friend rise eagerly to his feet and embrace the woman he loved. He’d proposed on one knee, holding out the diamond ring he’d shown Hana in Madrid, at a party he’d organized in a fantastic bar near Shibuya Square, surrounded by their family and friends.

  Of course Emika had said yes, Hana thought, watching as the Japanese girl hugged Ren, her pretty face crying with happiness. Ren was beaming, looking like the proudest man in the world.

  Hana watched them with a lump in her throat.

  It was strange to be back in Tokyo, at another party in another hotel, celebrating another union of two people. But this was very different from the last.

  Her own sort-of wedding reception had been more of a business celebration, actually, and held at a sleek, sophisticated luxury hotel. Then, it had been April, with the cherry trees brilliantly in bloom.

  Ren and Emika’s party was different. This bar was modern and colorful and hip, with brightly colored manga on the walls. It was on the second floor, with huge windows overlooking Shibuya Crossing, with all its big neon signs lighting up the night. It was the busiest pedestrian intersection in the world, where two thousand people or more could cross the street each time the light changed.

  And yet, even surrounded by people, Hana felt alone.

  She’d thought her love could save Antonio. She’d hoped, when she left him, he might come after her.

  He hadn’t.

  Since their wedding, spring had turned to autumn. All the bright, innocent hope she’d felt the last time she’d been in Tokyo had been lost. Just like the cherry trees—her happiness had bloomed briefly, then faded, then fallen.

  It was October now, the haunted, wistful month of longings and regret. Her baby was due in less than two weeks, and her whole body ached. She put her hands on her belly, which had been tensing up strangely all evening. Braxton Hicks contractions, she thought. And her lower back had been aching for hours, but what did she expect, after such a long flight? But just in case, she’d go to the doctor first thing in the morning.

  “Are you feeling all right, Hana?”

  Looking up, she saw Ren’s worried face.

  “Of course.” Trying to smile, she nodded toward Emika, who was showing her diamond engagement ring to her clamoring, excited friends. “I’m so happy I got to see your proposal.”

  “I’m just happy she said yes,” he replied wryly.

  Hana smiled. “She loves you. Anyone can see that.”

  He came closer. He had a strange expression on his face. “Delacruz loves you. I know he does. Give him another chance...”

  “More chances?” She felt pain in her heart just at hearing her husband’s name. “I never thought you’d be the one to sing his praises.”

  “Me either.” He bit his lip hard, then said only, “Just wait another hour. Have another melon soda. I promise you’ll feel better in an hour.”

  Another hour of watching other people’s happiness and feeling the pain of her own broken heart? She didn’t think she could manage it. She evaded, “I’m going to go congratulate Emika.”

  As the next half hour passed, Hana listened to the engagement toasts, looking at the dreamy, dazzled faces of the happy couple, kissing each other and toasting a blissful future. Finally, she could bear it no longer. Taking her coat from the coatrack near the door, without saying farewell to anyone, Hana quietly left.

  Outside, the Tokyo air was cold, with the bite of frost already looming in the air. The sidewalks were crowded, as it was Saturday night. The neon lights of Shibuya Crossing were bright, casting moving colors against the streets below, with all the noodle shops and tiny boutiques. Pulling her coat closer over her belly, she ducked her head and walked with the crowd toward her hotel, on the other side of the crossing.

  Did she hear someone calling her name?

  She shrugged it off. Hana was a common enough name in Japan. All her friends were still upstairs at the party.

  Shivering, Hana waited on the sidewalk for the light to turn. When it did, all the cars stopped in the streets surrounding Shibuya Crossing, to wait for pedestrians. She moved with the crowds of people walking in every direction, even diagonally, across the large square.

  Again, she thought she heard a voice shouting her name. Grief must be making her crazy, because it sounded like Antonio. But her husband was back in Spain. Or perhaps he was already back in New York, negotiating with the employees’ union. Because that was all he cared about: his empire. Not his wife. Not his child...

  “Hana!”

  This time, she couldn’t stop herself from looking back.

  And then she knew she was dreaming. Because there, in the middle of the street, she saw Antonio pushing toward her, his handsome face full of longing.

  She stumbled in shock. It was only when he was suddenly there to catch her, and she felt the warmth and power of his arms, that she knew he was real.

  “You’re...you’re here,” she breathed.

  “You left the party early...”

  As he held her, she felt the current and flow of crowds passing all around them, but it was as if they were the only two people on earth as he lifted her gently back to her feet. Her forehead furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

  His dark eyes burned through her. “I came for you.”

  “Why?”

  “To tell you I was wrong. About everything.” Antonio glanced around them as crowds continued to push past. “I saw my mother.”

  “What?”

  Antonio gave a single nod. “I finally know the truth. About her. About myself. I’ve flown across the world to tell you what I’ve felt for a long time but was too scared to admit.”

  Her lips parted.

  “You were right,” he said simply. “I was a coward. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. I was afraid I didn’t deserve your love. And maybe I don’t. But I can spend the rest of my life trying. Because you’re my empire, Hana.” Running his hands through her hair, he whispered, “You’re my soul.”

  Glancing around them, she saw crowds thinning out. The crosswalk light was flashing green, indicating it was about to turn red, when the car traffic would return. “We should get off the street...”

  “Tell me it’s not too late,” Antonio urged. “Tell me I still have a chance.”

  Looking up at him, she gave a low laugh. “Even Ren told me I had to give you another chance.”

  “I know. When I phoned him from the plane...”

  Her jaw dropped. “You phoned Ren?”

  “He wasn’t glad to hear from me,” Antonio said, rubbing his chin ruefully. “It took a lot of begging to convince him I deserved to see you again. He was supposed to keep you at the party till I arrived.”

  No wonder
Ren had told her to drink another melon soda, and promised she’d feel better in an hour. An incredulous laugh bubbled from her as she shook her head. “You—begging Ren? That must have hurt.”

  Antonio snorted. “You have no idea.” His grin faded. “But not nearly as badly as it hurt to think of losing you.” His dark eyes seared hers. “I love you, Hana.”

  Her heart was pounding. They were still standing in the middle of the crossing. They had to move. She knew they had to move. But she couldn’t. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake.

  They heard loud honks from the approaching cars.

  “Hey, that’s my pregnant wife you’re honking at!” Antonio yelled at the cars, who really did have the right of way. Taking her hand, he gently pulled her to the sidewalk on the other side.

  His hand tightened on hers as he faced her on the crowded sidewalk. His gaze searched hers beneath the moving lights of the electronic billboards. “I love you,” he repeated. He leaned his forehead against hers as he murmured, “Am I too late?”

  Shaking her head, Hana drew back, smiling. “It’s never too late.” Lifting her hand, she placed it on his scratchy cheek. “Because I’ll never stop loving you.”

  She heard his intake of breath. Pulling her into his arms, Antonio lowered his head to hers. His kiss was passionate, gentle and hot at once, promising forever.

  Then Hana felt it again. The strange, sharp pain around her abdomen. Just like she’d read about. This wasn’t Braxton-Hicks. She wrenched away.

  “Antonio—” she panted.

  “I can hardly wait to get you to my hotel,” he said seductively, cupping her cheek. “Tonight, I’ll show you how much I love you. Now and forever...”

  Looking down, she gasped, “All that’s going to have to wait.”

  He pulled back with a frown. “Why?”

  Hana looked up, her expression in shock. “Because my water just broke!”

  * * *

  The cherry trees were newly in bloom when they returned to Tokyo in late March for Ren and Emika’s wedding.

  It had been a joyful day, full of love and laughter, tradition and cake. As they left the reception, Antonio held his wife’s hand as he pushed their baby daughter’s stroller. His heart was full of joy. Everywhere he looked, cherry flowers were popping like popcorn on trees, pink-and-white petals trailing in the soft spring breeze like confetti.

  “Where are you taking me?” Hana asked him for the tenth time.

  “It’s a surprise,” he told her, also for the tenth.

  “Back to the plane, to take us home to Madrid?”

  “No.”

  She blinked, then tilted her head. “To New York, then,” she guessed. “So I can help you get a better deal this time.”

  She never let him forget how he’d gotten hosed in the union deal he’d made without her. A mistake he’d never been stupid enough to make again. From now on, they were partners all the way. At work. And at home. Smiling, he shook his head.

  “Where?” she begged.

  He grinned. “Come with me.”

  As he led her down the Tokyo street, Antonio’s shoulders became a little straighter. He was filled with pride to have his wife on his arm, and pushing his baby daughter in the stroller. At five months old, Josie was already grabbing her own feet, and clearly a prodigy.

  Her birth hadn’t been easy. After twenty hours of labor, she’d been born finally by cesarean section in a Tokyo hospital. Every time Antonio remembered that night, he was awed by his wife’s power and strength. Afterward, he’d wanted to shower her with jewels, but she’d told him his love was the only gift she ever wanted. “It’s yours forever,” he’d breathed, his eyes suspiciously wet.

  A week later, they’d taken their baby, named Josie after his mother, back to the nursery waiting at their palacio in Madrid. Soon afterward, his mother had gotten a chance to meet her namesake. They had photos of their baby being held tenderly in her grandmother’s lap, which would always be among their most precious possessions.

  Antonio had wanted his mother to come live in the palacio, where he could oversee her care. But Josune had refused. “Etxetarri is my home,” she’d told him in her softly wheezing voice. “I never want to leave it.” But her hand had reached helplessly toward her son.

  And so, with Hana’s blessing, the Delacruz family had set up housekeeping in the seaside village. They’d rented a cottage just down the cliff from the hospice, and spent time with his mother every day, reading stories aloud, playing cards, just sitting quietly. Antonio had been with her when she’d peacefully died a few weeks later, surrounded by her family, and with a loving smile on her lips.

  In one of their last conversations, Josune had told Antonio how proud she was of him, what a good man he was, how much she loved him. He wasn’t sure he deserved such praise. But now he was a father, he finally understood.

  Because that was exactly how he felt about baby Josie. Every time his daughter did something clever, like lifting her head or making a noise that sounded like “Papa”—something he was absolutely, positively sure she was doing deliberately, no matter how doubtful Hana was about it—he felt the need to share it, to praise it, to video record it, to send it to all their friends. And even—in one particularly embarrassing incident his wife still teased him about—he couldn’t help mentioning his daughter in a company email to his eleven thousand employees. His cheeks went hot remembering that one. In his defense, Josie had done something remarkably difficult, sitting up all by herself for a full thirty seconds.

  “She’s clearly a prodigy,” he’d informed his wife. She’d laughed, then informed him that his reputation in the business world for cold, ruthless savagery had taken a hit lately.

  “Everyone’s starting to think you’re a big softy,” Hana had said, then laughed even louder at the horrified look on his face. Then he caught himself.

  “It’s all part of my plan to lure them in. I’m ruthless as ever,” Antonio replied smugly. “Trust me.”

  And he was ruthless. In business, when he wanted to be. But always, always ruthless about showing his family how much he loved them.

  Now, in the two days they had to spend in Tokyo before they returned home to Madrid, Antonio wanted to do something for his wife. She didn’t care about money. She didn’t care about jewels. But she’d told him once about something she wanted.

  As Antonio pushed their baby’s stroller beneath the warm spring sunshine, he led her to the best park in Shinjuku for cherry tree viewing. He’d already arranged a blanket to be set up. On top of it, a wicker basket was waiting for them.

  “What’s this?” she asked, her forehead furrowed.

  “A family picnic,” he said. “Beneath the cherry trees.” He spoke the Japanese word, just as his buddy Ren Tanaka had helped him practice. “Hanami.”

  Her lips parted in shock. “Your accent—it’s perfect!”

  Stopping beside the blanket, beneath the largest, most beautiful pink cherry tree against the bright blue sky, he parked the stroller. “I want to make all your dreams come true, querida. As you have mine.”

  Hana looked astonished. “I’ve made your dreams come true?”

  Antonio took her in his arms. “You know you have. And you do every day. Especially today.”

  Hana blushed. She trembled. Then she whispered, “How did you know?”

  “You told me last year that...” Then he blinked. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

  Blushing, she ducked her head, her long dark hair falling in soft waves over her pale pink trench coat. “You said I made your dreams come true, especially today. So I thought...”

  “Thought what?”

  Shaking her head shyly, she gave him a slow-rising smile. “I thought you’d somehow found out...” Rising on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear. He drew back. Now he was the one to look astonished.

&
nbsp; “I just confirmed it at the doctor’s before the wedding this morning. I heard the heartbeat.” Her smile lifted to a saucy grin. “Heartbeats.”

  His eyes went wide. “Are you saying—?”

  “Twins,” she said happily.

  With a cry of joy, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her again and again.

  She laughed. “If we keep having babies at this rate, Josie will soon be part of a baseball team. You don’t mind?”

  “Sounds like paradise.” Then, remembering how hard labor had been for her, he asked softly, “You’re not afraid?”

  Hana tilted her head. “I’ll have more scars.” She put her hand over her dress, over her belly with its cesarean scar. Then she smiled. “But that’s all right. It’s kintsugi.” She looked up at him, her eyes luminous. “Do you remember?”

  Antonio’s heart was full. “How could I forget? It’s the scars that make things truly beautiful.” Cupping her cheek, he looked into her face. “Even more beautiful than when they were new.”

  Hana’s eyes widened, and he saw she was surprised he’d remembered. But he’d never heard anything so accurately explain what life should be.

  He looked around them. Cherry blossoms were blooming again. Soon, they’d disappear. But every year, they came back. That was the beauty of life, the promise, the renewal. He’d lost so much in his life. But how much more had he gained?

  As Antonio curled into the soft blanket beneath the pink flowering tree, with his chortling baby in his lap and his newly pregnant wife resting her head on his shoulder, he knew that everything he’d lost was a tiny fraction, the merest drop of water, compared to the Pacific Ocean of happiness all around him. And as he kissed his wife tenderly on the forehead, he knew broken hearts, mended and made new, were the strongest and most powerful of all.

  * * *

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