“So you just decided for both of us that we wouldn’t work, without even giving me a chance. You just bailed.”
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. I just...it was two weeks. How well can you really know someone in two weeks? You can feel like you do, the temptation can definitely be there and make you think you’re doing the right thing, but...” He tossed up a hand.
“Is that why you pose as Nolan Forte? So you can indulge your need to be with a ‘regular’ woman, without ever having the time for it to develop into a real relationship?”
Her question was calm, quiet, sounding almost...compassionate. “No,” he said. It was his job to sort his truths from his wishes or wants. To keep them apart. “I’m Nolan Forte for a purely selfish reason, but not that one. For occasional weekends, and these two weeks over Christmas, I get to live without responsibility. That’s it. Plain and simple and not real pretty.”
She nodded, but didn’t look as horrified as she should have. “So that’s where I fell into your life...the no-responsibility part.”
Yep. He nodded, knowing he should be relieved that she fully got it now. But he felt compelled to add, “You were special to me, Lizzie. Our time was...the best vacation I’ve ever had. I don’t want you to ever think that you were just one of a bunch, or that I’ve ever had any relationship like the one we shared last year.”
“But you knew all along that there was no chance it would be more than that.”
He nodded again.
“So why give me a phone number?”
“I was caught up in the moment...not thinking clearly.”
“So wait a minute. The number you left...it was a real one?”
He couldn’t let the hope on her face take root. “I have a cell that I use only for band contact. That’s the number I gave you. And the number I changed.”
“Nolan Forte’s number.”
“Right.”
“You never intended me to know, even for a second last year, even when you gave me that number, that you were Nolan Fortune. If I’d seen you again, it would have been as Nolan Forte.”
He let his shameful truth lay there between them.
* * *
Lizzie’s stomach was in knots. Her heart felt as if it was on a roller-coaster ride, and she couldn’t seem to catch up with herself. Sitting there with Nolan, it was like a force inside of her was trying to grasp for something that was just out of reach.
He’d intended to deceive her all along.
But the man she’d fallen for seemed to exist. Sort of.
He’d come back when Carmela compelled him to do so. Because he’d thought Lizzie needed him. Nolan Forte had been a man of integrity.
He’d also changed his phone number, leaving her no way to contact him. Nolan Fortune put his wealthy family, his position in that family, first.
From that she quickly guessed two things. If Nolan Forte found out about Stella, he would insist on taking responsibility. And Nolan Fortune could very well sue her for custody.
He had a fortune. She did not.
How could she possibly hope to fight high-priced lawyers and a family who could so obviously provide her daughter with so much more than she could? At least by worldly standards.
They couldn’t take her baby away from her. There were no grounds. She was a good mother.
But they could probably force her to keep Stella close to them, to let them have her half the time. And what kid would rather be in a two-bedroom apartment with the bare minimum rather than in a princess room in a palace?
They could use what they had to turn her head away from what mattered most in life. Just as Nolan’s head had been turned. If what he’d told her was true, he’d been as much in love with her as she’d been with him the year before. But the family money had won out.
Visions of home in Chicago, of being alone with sitters while her parents flitted about with the Mahoneys, sprang to mind. The crushing sense of loneliness filled her.
You’re exactly what I want to be...pursuing a career you love with passion, rather than being driven by wealth. I know not many would agree with me, but I feel sorry for insanely rich people. They’re in a prison from which they’ll never escape, being controlled by money. It exacts everything from you, but will leave you in an instant if you make a wrong move.
Her words from the year before came back to her. They’d described Nolan Forte. Little did she know they also described Nolan Fortune. He was in that prison.
Could she bear to allow that to happen to her sweet Stella?
One thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t trust Nolan Fortune to do what was best for either her or Stella. He’d do what was best for the Fortunes.
“Let’s take a walk,” she said, suddenly in a prison of her own in that coffeehouse, trapped in a chair across from the father of her baby, the probable love of her life and a man she neither knew well nor respected all that much. She was trying to decide her daughter’s entire future in a split second.
She couldn’t figure out the two weeks in which Stella had been conceived. How could she possibly make choices that would change a soul’s entire destiny?
She needed time. More than she’d have obviously, but any would be better than none. Time to figure him out, to be with Nolan Fortune, as himself, and see how much of Nolan Forte was alive in there. Time to get her own mind and heart wrapped around the truth of the affair she’d had with an imaginary man.
And yet, a man so real she ached to touch him, to be touched by him, even now.
She needed time to hold her baby close, quiet her mind and find peace in her heart.
“I’m sorry,” Nolan said, still beside her, though they’d walked a block from the coffee shop and she hadn’t said a word.
“I know.” She wasn’t heading anywhere in particular. The area around campus was filled with shops and eateries, bars, apartments and homes, too. Sunday in December gave the streets added flair, with Christmas decorations, traffic, shopping frenzy and early celebrations.
He asked her about her graduation, and was glad to know her aunt had made it down for the ceremony. He wanted to know about her current job. Wished she were able to work in her field of music, rather than substitute, but was sure her students were benefitting from having her with them.
It was rhetoric, she knew that, and absorbed it like cotton taking on water. Nolan’s praise was on a line straight to her heart. Not good.
And yet, it was a reality she’d have to face if she was going to be a good mother.
She didn’t ask him a single question about his life. At the moment, she was too busy struggling to put one foot in front of the other and form coherent answers to his questions—while her mind floundered with a million questions of her own.
Ten minutes from the coffee shop, Nolan touched her elbow. “What’s that over there?”
In a park diagonally across the street from them, a small band was setting up in front of a gathering of folded chairs. “You want to go see?” he asked.
The year before they’d happened upon Christmas carolers one night. They’d followed them for a bit and then had ended up joining in, singing harmony as though they’d rehearsed for months. The entire gang had shown up at the pub the next night to hear Nolan play.
No way should she walk back down any memory lanes. “Yeah,” she said. Only to buy herself time, she hoped, but feared she was lying to herself.
There was a sax, a flute and a clarinet—all wind instruments. Her personal favorites. Which was what had drawn her to Nolan Forte in the first place. He was a gifted saxophone player.
“Does Nolan Fortune ever play the sax?” she asked as they wandered over and took seats in the back of about ten rows. The rest of the rows were filling rapidly, as though people knew the band was going to be there and had planned to attend, as opposed to just happening upon the moment as she and Nolan had do
ne.
All they’d ever done. Things happened. There was no planning.
Had been no planning.
She couldn’t live like that anymore. She had Stella to consider. Bills to pay. A life to figure out.
“I play pretty much every day. Mostly late at night,” he said, glancing over at her. Her mind had been spinning so fast she’d almost forgotten the question.
He played every day. Letting Nolan Forte live and breathe. Her heart took hope. But he played mostly late at night. Because that was the only time he could squeeze out for the heart and soul of him? Because, even for himself, the heart came last?
As she pondered those questions, the three band members, middle-aged men in red sweaters and black jeans, were taking up their instruments, obviously ready to begin.
There were no mics. No introductions. Just notes filling the air. Really filling it. Sweetly. Powerfully.
Expecting traditional Christmas songs, Lizzie was caught up in a tune she’d never heard before. With the trebles and bass notes, the perfectly placed pianissimos, the song evoked a longing in her she couldn’t contain. It built, welled, and when Nolan took her hand toward the end, she held on, even after the music died away and applause erupted. Then a version of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” started, and she pulled away, clasping her hands together in her lap and pushing them between her thighs for added safety. Even then, she felt the chords washing over her and she wanted to sing along. And then, with the next song, to lose herself again. To become one with the angels and fly with joy. To know that great sacrifice, hard work, led to happiness. To believe that love really was the most powerful force of all.
When the half hour concert was over, she had to sit for a minute, still absorbing the impact of the music.
“That was magnificent.” Nolan’s soft tone was almost reverent. He’d made no move to stand, either. And then, a full minute later, he said, “I can’t believe they’re playing a free concert in the park. They should be recording.”
She stood, not wanting to hear anymore. She couldn’t bear for him to spoil the moment with a shift from the godly gift they’d just shared, to monetary wealth. To her, such great talent, being used for a free concert in the park, was perfection.
To Nolan Fortune, it was a waste.
And this was the man she had to share her daughter with?
She couldn’t do it.
She had to do it.
God help her, she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to hide Stella until he was gone and never tell either of them. There were moments when she truly thought it would be best for Stella. She was petrified at the thought of the changes wealth would bring to her daughter’s perspectives.
And yet, did she have a choice?
Nolan was Stella’s father. She was already a Fortune. Nothing was going to change that.
Chapter Eight
Nolan played his set on Sunday night, pouring his frustration into music that, when he closed his eyes, took him to a place where he was real.
But he was constantly searching the room for the woman who had the power to ruin him. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his system.
Even with all of the tension his lies had caused between them, he’d been happier with her than he was apart.
Monday morning, lying in bed, he told himself that he had to let it go. Let her go. Showered and dressed in the jeans he wanted to wear, he called off of breakfast with his bandmates and headed away from the hotel. He walked with purpose.
He ended up at Lizzie’s door in near-record time. They had ten days. Maybe, with truth standing between them, they wouldn’t enjoy each other as much. Wouldn’t even like each other. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him again, in spite of the unfinished business that had prompted her to call him the day before.
After the concert in the park he’d had to head back to the hotel, to get ready for a short rehearsal and then dinner before the night’s gig. There’d been no time for closure.
He’d bent to kiss her cheek. She’d turned at just that moment, probably to say goodbye, and their lips had met. Clearly an accident. They’d both pulled back at once.
But his appetite had been whetted.
Based on the confused and longing look in her gaze, hers had, too.
Staring up at her window now, he told himself he was being a fool. He thought of Molly, of all that he’d learned, the pain he had to avoid, for both him and Lizzie.
But she’d called him out on the way he’d taken the choice from her the year before, when he made the decision to cut them off from each other without telling her why. Without giving her half the choice. If she wanted another ten days, if she needed them anywhere nearly as badly as he did, did he have the right to refuse her? Didn’t he owe her?
He took a step up the walk toward her front door.
They could have a no-sex rule. Just be friends. With each other. And with the truth.
Uh-huh. They could try.
Confidence filled him as he knocked. The worst she could do was tell him to leave.
And then he’d be free.
Yes. At peace with his decision, he knocked a second time. Her car was in the lot and schools were closed for Christmas break, so she should be home. She could be in the shower.
He could have called but he’d purposely chosen not to. He needed to see her face-to-face. Either to say goodbye or another hello.
The lock on the door clicked, and he stepped back, a smile on his face. Lizzie, in gray sweats and a wrinkled T-shirt, slipped outside, leaving him barely a glimpse of the home he’d been so completely comfortable in the year before.
“Nolan! You can’t keep just stopping by like this.”
Not, “You have to leave.” Or even, “Why are you here?”
With a shrug, he shoved his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans so that he didn’t do something stupid like reach out to run them over her lips. “I can go away and call if you want. I wondered if you’d like to have lunch? Anywhere you choose.” It was the Nolan Fortune way. “Seriously, I’d like to spoil you like crazy.” Take her shopping. Buy her whatever she wanted. Because he hadn’t been able to do so the year before.
Because she deserved the best of whatever she wanted.
“I can’t. I have to get back in,” she said, glancing back at the door. “I, uh, have a bath running.”
She had bed hair and no makeup, not that she wore much.
“That’s cool,” he said, nodding. “So how about lunch tomorrow?”
She frowned, looked pained, and he braced for the refusal, and perhaps a final goodbye. “Maybe.” Another glance back. “Can I call you?” She’d turned the knob, was pushing back inside the door.
“Of cour—”
Nolan’s happy agreement broke off as an unmistakable wail sounded behind Lizzie—from inside that apartment.
“Are you babysitting?” he asked. Earning money during her holiday?
“Yes!” The word came out, along with a complete change in her. “Yes, I am.” She smiled at him and opened the door more completely, not to invite him in, but just as if she had nothing to hide.
And with a flash, Carmela’s expression the other night when she’d faced him at the bar sprang to mind.
You messed her up, Forte.
Yet, when he’d seen her, other than being understandably wary and pissed at him, she hadn’t seemed messed up at all. She’d graduated. Had a job.
Suddenly the fear he’d seen in her eyes a couple of times took on all new significance.
Oh, God.
“Do you really have a bath running?” She seemed to have forgotten about it and water could be running over.
He hoped to God water was running over. And that she was babysitting.
“No.”
She’d lied. His senses honed, the rest of him was nebulous.
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“Who are you babysitting for?” His entire system just kind of paused. He felt nothing. Like he’d been put on ice for a future thaw.
The stricken look that came over her face could have been missed if he hadn’t been watching her so closely. “Carmela,” she said then, in that overcheery voice. “Didn’t she tell you? She has a baby.”
“Carmela.”
“Yes! She has a baby. Isn’t that great?”
“Is she home?”
“No! I told you, I’m babysitting. She’s working today. She’s an intern for an architectural firm.”
The baby let out another wail, obviously agitated, and Lizzie looked behind her.
“You better go tend to that,” Nolan said, still standing there.
She nodded, and as she closed the door, she said, “I’ll call you about tomor—” But Nolan, all Fortune now, stepped forward. He didn’t enter her home, but her words broke off as his foot kept the door from closing.
“I can wait,” he said.
“Nolan...”
The baby’s cries became more urgent, even to an untrained idiot like him.
He could be wrong.
Had to be wrong.
She’d tried to call him months ago. And when she’d been unable to reach him, she had been frantic enough to try to track him through the band.
And then Carmela had sought him out at the club.
What friend looked up a guy a year later after he’d supposedly duped her friend, saying he had to go see her?
The woman had had an almost desperate urgency about her in the bar the other night.
Every nerve tight to the point of pain, Nolan stood there on the doorstep, watching as Lizzie moved out of sight, going farther into the living room, which he knew from his previous occupancy of the apartment.
The crying stopped almost immediately.
“It’s okay, baby girl, I’m right here.” He heard her voice, a tone he didn’t recognize and yet reacted to fiercely with a melting inside that he couldn’t prevent.
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