I kissed her, achingly soft and agonizingly slow. I felt the tingle from the metallic taste of her medicated lip balm, but I didn’t care. I poured everything I felt for her into that kiss. My love, compassion, and fears. Her fingers dug into my neck and her pelvis ground into mine, urging me to deepen the kiss, to take her one last time before she boarded the plane.
“Marry me,” I whispered against her lips. She whimpered and I asked again. “Please marry me.”
Her lips released mine. She pressed her forehead to mine and murmured my name. This hadn’t been the first time I’d asked.
“Do you love me?” I hated the emptiness in my tone.
She stepped from my embrace and my hands fell to my lap. Cool air swirled into the space she left. My gaze washed over her as she took interest in the paint drops on the floor. She twisted her hair. Emotions played on her face, confusion and uncertainty. I lifted her chin and we watched each other for a moment. “Nat, do you love me?”
“Yes. With all my heart.”
“Then why won’t you marry me?” I asked. Then, unexpectedly, I thought of her scars, battle wounds I never asked about, figuring she’d one day be brave enough to tell me. I’d waited long enough. She’d told me she was on birth control. Maybe there was something more going on. “Can you have children?”
She stiffened. “I hope so.”
“But your scars?”
She frowned. “My scars?”
I skimmed my thumbs along the inside of her hip bones. “Did you have surgery?” Her mother passed from ovarian cancer. “Were you sick?” I didn’t like that she would have kept such a thing from me were that true. I still needed to know.
“Sick?” She looked down at my hands where they clasped her hips. “I got those while surfing.” It was my turn to frown. “A wave pushed me into some sharp rocks when I was seventeen. They punctured my skin and it hurt like a bitch, but that has nothing to do with why I won’t marry you.”
“Then what is it?” I practically growled the question, frustrated for an answer.
Her whole body wilted. “I want to marry you, I really do. It’s just . . . I’m afraid you’re only marrying me for the kids’ sake.”
“Dios, Nat.” She didn’t think I wanted her. “I love you. It’s you I want every goddamn second of the day. There’s no one else I want to be with.”
“You say that now.”
My hands fell from her. I slid off the stool and backed a step away. God, I’m an idiot. “You’re afraid I’ll want to be with Aimee.”
“It’s a logical fear, Carlos. You’re convinced the fugue will end. You’re also convinced James won’t want your sons or that he’ll be unable to keep them safe from your family. Us getting married puts me in the exact same predicament as Julian and Marcus. I’m scared you’ll just leave me behind, too.”
“Nat . . .” My world crashed. She turned away, looking as lost and forlorn as I felt. I wanted to punch something. Life was so goddamn unfair because Nat was right. I shoved a hand into my hair and gripped hard.
Her phone buzzed with an appointment alarm. She looked at the time. “I have to go.” She put the phone away then gave me a long look. Reaching out, she skimmed her fingers along my unshaven jaw. I captured her hand and pressed my lips to her palm, holding her there.
“Let James decide what he wants,” she said, locking her gaze with mine when I released her hand.
I shook my head hard. “I can’t do that. I don’t care what Aimee told me. I can’t see that guy she described.” Yet I wanted to tie her to me. I ground my teeth and looked away.
“Hey.” She coaxed me back with the gentle touch of her fingers on my face. “If he doesn’t want the boys, or if he doesn’t think he can keep them safe from his family, then, yes, I’ll adopt them. I’ll give them a good home. You can put that in your journal so James knows.”
I put both hands on her face and kissed her hard, somewhat desperately. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you.” I would take whatever she was willing to give me.
“I love you, Carlos.”
I hugged her tightly. “I’ll always love you.”
She murmured in my ear then said good-bye, stepping from my embrace. I grasped her hand, her fingers falling from mine as she backed away. The door closed behind her, leaving me alone with my paints and the words she whispered after my declaration that I would always love her.
I hope you do.
CHAPTER 27
JAMES
Present Day
June 28
Hanalei, Kauai, Hawaii
They dine on the lanai under a darkening sky with the heady scent of barbecue in the air. During the meal, talk is lively between his sons and their grandmother and grandfather. Gale and Julian compare their rides on the waves; then Marc takes his turn sharing his first experience using “grown-up” paints. In between steaks cooked to perfection and ice cream for dessert, Claire enlightens the table about her travels to Italy. She became an expert at haggling over furniture prices. Other than a smile or small exclamation to acknowledge a feat Julian or Marc shares with the group, Natalya has been quiet. James also notices she intentionally sat between his sons. He’d deliberately set her plate beside his, hoping for a chance to talk with her, but she moved it to another place setting when he went back to the grill for Gale’s steak.
After dinner, Natalya kisses the kids good night and escapes to the kitchen. James takes them to their rooms and tucks them into bed, which amounts to a fist-bump and a “See ya in the morning, Pops” from Julian. Marc still wants a story. As expected, he falls asleep against James’s shoulder halfway through the book. Next time he’ll start reading from the middle so they finish the story for once.
Gale has taken Claire back to her hotel, so he goes looking for Natalya. She’s still in the kitchen, rinsing dishes. He joins her at the sink, grabs a towel, and wipes down a pot drying in the rack.
Natalya glances at him, her rubber-gloved hands elbow deep in soapy water. “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”
He gives her a funny look. “I made the mess.”
“You cooked. I’ll clean. It’s how we—” She presses her lips tight and scrubs harder.
“It’s how we always do it,” James finishes for her, his tone gentle. “I’d still like to help.” He puts the pot aside and picks up another.
Natalya puts her hand on the pot, stopping him. “I’ll do it.” She glances over her shoulder. “Why don’t you grab a beer and go relax on the lanai.”
Outside, and out of the kitchen. James may be a little slow catching up on the six-plus years missing from his life, but he knows when he’s not wanted. Abandoned for years in a foreign country taught him that lesson well.
He refolds the towel and moves aside to lean against the counter. He folds his arms, crosses his ankles, and watches Natalya. She scrubs with rough, jerky movements. Moisture shines on her cheek where she scratched herself with a gloved hand. She’s rushing through the dishes and refuses to look at him. She’s obviously uncomfortable around him.
“Do you want us to leave?” he asks before he thinks better of it. He and the boys can get a hotel room for a few days. Then what? Where would they go? None of them wants to return to California, but that’s where they’ll probably end up. He should start looking at real estate listings since there’s no way he’ll stay in his parents’ old house. It holds too many memories he prefers to forget. He never liked that house.
“No . . . no, I don’t want you to leave.” Natalya adds a dish to the dishwasher. “It’s just—” She scratches her forehead with the back of her hand.
“It’s just what?”
“I can’t do this.” She closes her eyes and James gets a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I thought I could but it’s too hard.” She snaps off the gloves, tosses them into the sink, and leaves him standing there, bewildered at her abrupt departure.
The front door slams. “Nat?” Gale calls.
Feet bound down the hallway.