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Then Rosie had become complacent, thinking this meant that the incident at the museum had blown over, that they could talk about it now. Thinking that since the boys could get through to him with their simple questions over a story, maybe she could get through to him too. Thinking about how close they’d become yesterday at the wedding when they’d danced, when they’d shared dinner, when they’d twirled around the dance floor with the boys, when she thought she’d no longer have to tiptoe around him like everyone else, even the Mavericks.
So she’d stopped giving him room…and pushed.
He hadn’t clammed up with the boys as he told them a bit about what life in a war zone had been like. And maybe that’s exactly what Gideon needed, just simple questions from curious boys. Where he didn’t feel he was being forced to confront his past.
The only good thing about his leaving was that he’d been gone by the time the phone rang. At least then she didn’t have to explain about the two previous calls. Or how frightened she was by this third one tonight.
The calls came from a blocked number, a breather on the other end of the line. That was all, then she’d hung up. They could be nothing. There wasn’t a single thing that pointed to it being Jorge’s birth father. Not after all this time, when she hadn’t heard from him since the day he told her that having a kid wasn’t in his life plan.
But she couldn’t shake that feeling. Couldn’t pretend she didn’t hear the soft whisper of her name in all that breathing. Couldn’t help being afraid that if Jorge’s father had resurfaced, it couldn’t be for anything good. She would much prefer an obscene phone call.
Rosie hadn’t even told Ari and Chi about the calls, not with the wedding so close. Ruining Ari’s perfect day and honeymoon with worry was out of the question.
And if Gideon found out, she could only imagine how he’d react. Gideon was a protector. Like all the Mavericks. He would have freaked.
Just the way she was freaking.
She’d been keeping tabs on Archibald Findley, of course. Just a few searches on the Internet every couple of months. So she knew where he was.
When he got married, she was actually relieved at the proof that he had completely moved on with his life and would now be creating a family with someone else. But that relief had evaporated a month ago when she’d found that TV interview, the one where Archie and his perfect trophy wife had told the interviewer about their heart-wrenching experience with infertility.
Rosie hugged her knees to her chest, sipped her wine. Told herself, yet again, that she and Jorge were safe here. That Archie wouldn’t find them. That he wouldn’t even try to find them. That he wouldn’t bother, not after he’d kicked her out of his life when she told him she was pregnant.
But she couldn’t ignore the phone calls. Just as she couldn’t ignore the fact that his wife couldn’t give him a child.
While Rosie could.
And had.
Chapter Thirteen
They went to the House of Air trampoline park in San Francisco. The boys took trampoline lessons, learning how to maintain their balance and perform a couple of simple aerial tricks like cartwheels and somersaults. Then they’d done air dunks and played dodgeball and even tried rock-climbing. Noah declared he wanted to have his next birthday party there.
“Ari’s going to kill me,” Rosie said when she and Gideon were alone for a moment. “I’ve created a monster.”
“No way, she’ll love it,” he assured her. “She always wants to find new and different things for him to do. Plus, now that he’s had lessons, he can practice on his own trampoline without Matt being so nervous.”
As soon as Gideon had woken this morning, he’d vowed to do whatever it took to maintain his equilibrium, while being as friendly and relaxed as possible with Rosie. She’d already put up with more than enough crap—she didn’t need his long face or a dark cloud of gloom hovering over them for the next two weeks. It was long past time to pull it togeth
er. Not just for Ari or Noah this time, but for Rosie and Jorge too.
Fortunately, there was nothing like hours of jumping and dodging and climbing to make you stop thinking about anything at all. Except Rosie.
Because no matter how hard he tried—or how many vows he made to himself—he couldn’t ignore Rosie. The way she moved, the way she laughed, the way her tank top hugged her beautiful curves, the way she pulled her hair up off her neck. A neck he wanted to kiss so badly that his insides literally ached with the need.
“You don’t have to make dinner again,” he told Rosie back at her place as they stood side by side at her kitchen window, watching the boys play. “I can pick up pizza.”
Gideon had shown them a string game called cat’s cradle, and now, seated cross-legged on the grass facing each other, Noah and Jorge were blissfully unaware they were being observed.
Rosie was right, they were like sponges. All he’d done was mention the game he’d taught Ari as a little girl, and they simply had to know how to play it too. After today’s activity, he’d have thought they’d be falling asleep, but they just kept going. Kids were amazing—energetic, vigorous, resilient sponges.
Their voices were audible through the glass. “I think it’s like this.” Jorge leaned forward to touch the string linked between Noah’s fingers.
“Isn’t this the coolest thing?” Noah replied when they nailed the string’s pattern.
“You were a teenager when you showed Ari all these games, weren’t you?” Rosie asked Gideon.
“I was, but I liked spending time with her.” He grunted a laugh. “Even if my friends in high school thought I was weird for wanting to hang out with my little sister.”
