by Day Leclaire
The ache was almost more than he could bear. “I thought I did,” he whispered. “But you lied.”
“I never lied. I just didn’t tell you all of it.” She dared to splay her hand across his chest. Could she still feel his heart beating? It wasn’t possible. Not when it had been turned to stone. “Would you have refused to marry me if I’d told you beforehand?”
“I don’t know.” The confession was ripped from him. “But at least I would have been in a position to make an informed choice.”
Her hands dropped to her sides, stealing away the only warmth left to him. She stepped backward. “Then let me make this easy for you.” She took another step away from him. “I’ll narrow your choices down to two. We can stay married and work through this, or we can divorce.”
“And if I want a divorce?”
For the first time, her composure cracked. No, it more than cracked. It shattered. He found that shattering all the more devastating because he’d never seen her lose control to that extent before. She fought the loss for ten full seconds before managing to grind out a reply. “When we first met I had serious doubts about whether or not you were the appropriate person to raise Isabella. I don’t have any doubts about that anymore.”
He froze. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I think you’re an amazing father, Jack,” she said. “There’s not a single doubt in my mind that she’d not just be safe with you, but that she’ll thrive in your care. I won’t contest a divorce. Nor will I attempt to take her away from you.”
“Annalise—”
She shook her head and her mouth compressed, he suspected to keep her lips from trembling. “If you change your mind about the divorce, you know where to find me.” She squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “But if you decide you want to give our marriage a try, there’s only one way I’ll return to you. And that’s not as Isabella’s nanny or your employee. It will be as your partner. As your wife.”
With that, Annalise turned and stepped into her father’s arms. She clung to him for a long minute while Robert stared at Jack with eyes filled with threat. Without another word, he swept his daughter across the patio and into the house. There they paused, and her gaze clung to an oblivious Isabella a final instant. Not once did she look back at him. Then the door closed behind them with frightening finality.
Jack stood unmoving for an endless moment. How was it possible that in thirty short minutes his life had gone from near perfection, straight to hell? Isabella continued to play with Mister Mayhem, giggling in blissful ignorance at the puppy’s ungainly antics. He took a single step toward her when a voice like shards of glass cut into him.
“You, Mr. Mason, are a complete and total idiot,” Mrs. Locke announced in ringing tones of disgust.
He spun in his tracks. He’d completely forgotten about the caseworker. She continued to sit beneath the canopied portion of the patio. Without taking her gaze from him, she picked up her glass of iced tea with impressive casualness and took a dainty sip.
She offered a sour smile. “Forgot I was here, didn’t you?” He muttered a word that had the woman’s carefully stenciled eyebrows climbing. “I certainly hope you don’t use that sort of language around Isabella on a regular basis,” she said.
“Since she doesn’t talk, I didn’t think it mattered,” he shot back.
To his amazement, Mrs. Locke actually smiled. “I suggest you come and sit down before you fall down.” She hefted the pitcher of tea and splashed some into one of the empty glasses. “Here. Drink this.”
He reluctantly approached, amazed to find himself taking the proffered glass and obediently downing half the contents in one swallow. The sugar rush hit his system and helped clear his head. “So, how’s your morning been so far, Mrs. Locke?” He collapsed into the chair across from the caseworker and stared broodingly at his niece. “Entertaining enough for you?”
“Vastly.”
“Glad you enjoyed yourself. Personally, the last time I had a day this bad I was told my sister and her husband had been killed on a flight I was supposed to have been on with them, and that my niece was hanging on to life by a mere thread.”
“I’m sorry, Jack.” There was no mistaking either her sincerity or her compassion.
He found he couldn’t respond. Instead, he traced his finger along a teardrop bead of condensation trickling down the side of his glass. He struggled to gather himself and determine what his next step should be. Having built his business from scratch, he’d learned the importance of flexibility. He’d been an expert at thinking and organizing quickly, and reacting to fluid situations even faster. Logic and ruthless intent had gotten him through many a crisis. But this…
He couldn’t think at all, let alone act.
“So, did you marry Annalise because you loved her, or in order to get rid of me?” Mrs. Locke asked.
“To get rid of you.” He returned the glass to the table and rubbed at the headache gathering in his temples. “At least, I thought that was the reason.”
“Interesting.”
His head jerked up. “What’s interesting?”
“When I asked Annalise why she’d married you, she said more or less the same thing.”
He had a vivid memory of standing in the kitchen, desperate to hear his wife’s response to Mrs. Locke’s question. The truth came as one more blow. He didn’t even attempt to conceal his pain. It cut too deeply. “She told you that?” he murmured.
“No, she told me that’s why she’d initially agreed to marry you. She said she married you for one reason and one reason only.”
“What?” The word was torn from him before he could prevent it.
Mrs. Locke lifted an eyebrow and pinned him with those bright blue eyes. “Don’t you know?” She dismissed her own question with a wave of her hand. “Of course you don’t, or you’d never have made those ridiculous accusations.”
“Are you going to tell me what she said, or not?” he ground out.
“Not,” came the crisp response. “To be honest, it doesn’t matter what Annalise said. All that matters is what you have to say. Why did you marry your wife, Mr. Mason? I expect a truthful answer and I expect one now.”
The question didn’t require any thought. “Because I love her,” he answered starkly.
Mrs. Locke pushed back her chair. “I’ll give you three days to resolve this situation before rendering my final verdict on Isabella’s custody.”
He lifted his gaze, feeling the protective predator stirring. No one was going to take his niece from him. “Is that a threat?” he asked softly.
Just like Annalise, Mrs. Locke didn’t show the least sign of intimidation. What was it with these women? “Yes, Mr. Mason.” She picked up her purse and tucked it under her arm. “That was a threat.”
It didn’t take three days for Jack to figure out what he intended to do. It didn’t even take him three hours. It just took enough time for him to sit quietly and remember. Remember Annalise and how she’d been from the moment they’d first met. From the day she’d stepped foot in his office, she’d lived and breathed her concern for his niece.
No, not just his niece. Annalise’s daughter.
She hadn’t accepted the position of Isabella’s nanny with the intent of attracting a wealthy husband. It hadn’t been about him at all. All her attention, all her focus, had been directed toward Isabella and helping her child recover from a hideous trauma that had forever changed her young life.
Even by giving Isabella up for adoption, Annalise had proven that she’d put Isabella first and done what was best for his niece. Marrying him had simply been one more step in that process. He might have wanted her focus to widen enough to include him. But that wasn’t her first priority and never would be. Her child was Annalise’s priority. He closed his eyes.
Their child.
His gaze drifted to Isabella and he accepted the inescapable truth. She was his niece and he’d always keep her parent’s memory alive for her.
But at some point, he’d stopped thinking of her as an extension of Joanne and Paul, and begun to think of her as part of himself. A vital part.
As though sensing his attention, Isabella’s head jerked up and she looked at him and beamed with happiness. Sweeping Mister Mayhem into her arms, she trotted over to him and climbed into his lap. He hugged her close, inhaling the sweet, baby scent of her. From tragedy had come an existence he’d never believed possible.
It didn’t matter what it took. It didn’t matter what he had to sacrifice. It didn’t even matter that he’d never be first in Annalise’s life or heart. He and Isabella needed her and he’d do whatever necessary to bring his wife home. But there was something he had to do first.
He gathered Isabella close and prayed he’d find the right words. “Do you remember when we talked about finding people to adopt Madam’s puppies, like you were adopted?” he asked.
Isabella nodded, though he could tell she still pouted a bit at the thought.
“Do you also remember me telling you about your other mommy? She’s the one who gave birth to you before you were adopted?” When Isabella nodded again, he rested his cheek against the soft curls crowning her head. He gathered his self-control and spoke gently. Carefully. Lovingly. “There’s something I need to tell you about your birth mommy…”
Jack arrived at the boatyard early that same afternoon. Sun pounded down on him as he walked the weathered planks toward the large charter yacht he’d been informed belonged to Robert Stefano. He saw Annalise’s father before the other man caught sight of him. It gave Jack a few seconds to further assess the man and get some sort of handle on him.
Lean and muscular, Robert Stefano wore cutoff shorts and a sleeveless tee, which made him look all the younger and more virile than when he’d first introduced himself. He didn’t wear a cap and the sun picked out the burnished streaks that were so similar to Isabella’s. He must have realized that he was being watched. His head jerked up and he stiffened, like one predator sensing the presence of another. Slowly, he swung around. Cursing roundly, he stalked down the pier, planting himself square in Jack’s path. He folded his well-muscled arms across an equally muscular chest.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
Jack assessed his opponent—who also happened to be his father-in-law. He could take the man if he had to. Maybe. He imitated Robert’s stance. “I’ve come for my wife, even if I have to go through you to get to her. But when I leave, it’s with Annalise. Now, I can do it with your cooperation, or without. Your choice.”
“I vote for ‘without.’ She’s not a real wife to you. She’s just a means to an end, and I won’t let you use her. So turn around, son.” A vicious smile slashed across Robert’s face. “You don’t stand a chance against me. I eat pencil pushers like you for breakfast.”
Jack planted himself, hoping for peace, but prepared for the battle of his life. “Annalise tells me you raised her on your own after her mother died.”
“I did.” Open grief touched his tanned face before being ruthlessly suppressed. “I let that girl down when she was sixteen. I won’t let her down now.”
“Sounds like we have ourselves a problem, because I don’t want to let Isabella down. She needs Annalise.” He drew a deep breath and confessed, “I need Annalise.”
Suspicion glinted in Robert’s green eyes. “For your niece?”
Jack shook his head. “For me. It just took me a while to realize that. Isabella was the excuse I used to bind Annalise to me without admitting why I wanted her.”
Robert’s arms dropped to his sides and he cocked his head to one side in a gesture eerily similar to Annalise’s. “And why is that?”
Jack didn’t bother to pull his punches or hide behind his pride. He put it all out there for the other man to rummage through. “Because I love your daughter.”
Robert eyed him for a long moment, before nodding in satisfaction. “Then what are you doing wasting your time jawing with me?” He stepped aside. “Go tell my daughter how you feel and put her out of her misery.”
“I’ll get right on that.” Jack didn’t hesitate. He passed by the other man and walked toward his future.
“Mason?” Robert waited until Jack turned. “That’s two of mine in your care. I will be watching you.”
Jack nodded. He could accept that. “I’d be doing the exact same thing if I were in your position.” He swung aboard only to have Robert stop him again.
“Oh, and Mason?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You couldn’t have taken me.”
Jack grinned. “I would have enjoyed trying.”
Robert returned the grin. “Yeah. Me, too.”
A cursory glance told Jack that Annalise wasn’t topside. He crossed the deck to the steps leading to the shadowed interior. His wife stood in the small, efficient galley, her back to him. He paused and allowed himself the luxury of watching her graceful movements as she went about the mundane task of putting a meal together.
She’d swept her hair into a casual ponytail, and the ringlets bounced with each dip and sway of her body. She wore a thin cotton tee that hugged her curves and screeched to a halt a scant couple of inches short of a pair of low-slung shorts that bared her endless legs to his view. He was about to announce his presence when she spoke without turning.
“I have your lunch ready, Dad. Grab a beer out of the fridge if you want one.”
“I don’t want a beer, thanks.”
Her spine went rigid and she carefully returned the plate to the counter with hands that trembled. She drew a careful breath before spinning around. “Jack.”
“Annalise.”
One look warned that her control was as tenuous as his own. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t read her as well as he’d hoped. Why had she married him? Was it just for Isabella, or was there more? He’d obsessed over the question ever since his conversation with Mrs. Locke. He wanted to be able to take one look and see the answer in her face. But it wasn’t there, and unadulterated fear threatened to bring him to his knees.
“I’ve been expecting a call from Derek,” she said. “I’m surprised you came, instead.”
Gathering every shred of composure at his command, Jack leaned his hip against the counter and shrugged. “What’s this got to do with Derek? You’re my wife, not his.”
Her chin assumed a combative angle. “For now.”
“Forever,” he stated decisively.
She shook her head. “Forget it, Jack. I won’t live with someone who believes I’m capable of—”
“Stop.” He cut her off with that one, quiet word. Perhaps it was the way he said it—naked pain leaking into the single syllable. Whatever the reason, it worked and she stumbled to a halt. “Please, sweetheart. You’re killing me.”
She gazed at him with a heartbreaking defenselessness that he recognized, mainly because he felt it, too. It was an emotion he’d never experienced before…until now. He’d always been the tough one. He’d always held himself at a safe distance, refusing to allow himself to feel or show the vulnerability she displayed so openly. And what had that gotten him? Money. Success. But what were those in comparison to an empty heart and a cold bed, and a little girl waiting for a mother? He’d had a taste of heaven, and he would do anything and everything to have that back.
Even strip his defenses bare and allow her to cut him to shreds.
Without a word, he opened his arms to her. Time seemed to hold its breath as he waited for her decision. Waited to discover whether he’d know a lifetime of warmth and joy, or be forced to survive in an arctic wasteland. With an inarticulate cry, she flew to him, and he breathed in life. He wrapped her up tight and buried his face against her silken curls and simply inhaled her. The scent of her. The feel of her. The sound of their hearts beating as one.
“I love you, Annalise,” he murmured against the top of her head. “And I’m more sorry than I can ever express.”
She lifted a glowing face to his. “So
rry you love me?” she teased.
A rusty laugh escaped. “I’m sorry I believed the worst.”
“I should have told you about my relationship to Isabella. I was going to.” She made a gesture that emphasized her bone-deep weariness. “But I should have done it before we married.”
“Tell me now, Annalise. I gather Isabella was the result of that night you lost your virginity?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “You have no idea how terrified I was when I realized I was pregnant.”
“What about the boy?”
“He and his family had moved away by then. Dad contacted them, of course. But they wanted nothing to do with me or the baby and were only too happy to sign the adoption papers.” She shrugged. “It was just as well. Tommy was no more in a position to raise a baby than I was.”
“I remember Joanne saying it was a private adoption, arranged through their lawyer.”
Annalise nodded. “Dad met with Joanne and Paul and had them carefully checked out.”
He eyed her curiously. “You never considered keeping Isabella?”
It was the wrong question to ask. Her chin wobbled for an instant before she firmed it. “I wanted to keep her with all my heart. I dreamed about it every night. But I was sixteen when I got pregnant. I’d just turned seventeen when I had her.” The confession was so soft he barely caught it. “I also know it was the most difficult decision Dad ever made. He’d been a teenage father himself, and he felt he’d done such a poor job of it, that it wouldn’t be fair to repeat the cycle for another generation. He was right. I couldn’t be selfish.” Tears overflowed. “I…I had to do what was best for Isabella, not what was best for me. So I hid my pregnancy until the school year ended and went to stay with my aunt until after Isabella was born. Every summer after that I’d go and stay with her…and remember. Celebrate…and mourn.”
He tightened his hold on her, her words tearing him apart. “I’m so sorry.”
“I never knew who adopted her, but Dad kept track and would reassure me that she was safe and doing well.”
