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“I’m… so sorry,” Natalie offered, reaching across the coffee table between us and rubbing my leg tenderly. “Words can’t even do it justice. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
I sighed. “It’s fine… I mean, it wasn’t at the time. If someone had told me I’d get over it someday, that I’d move on with my life, I wouldn’t have believed them. But I did. I joined the military, and got back into the family business…” I looked up at her. “And I met you.”
She smiled then, her cheeks flushing.
“I promise you,” she said. “I would never cheat on you. And I’m so sorry I made you doubt that today.”
“Natalie, it’s okay, really.” I reached across the table to stroke her leg. She put her hand atop mine, and I felt myself getting warmer. “I’m… sorry I made assumptions.” I smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
She smiled back. I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed it softly; she caressed the side of my face in response. Then, as I leaned back, she sighed and sank into the couch cushion. “Wow, it’s been a long day.”
“Pfffft. You’re tellingme,” I said, and we laughed together. And then suddenly, I remembered.
“Oh! Natalie… I have some exciting news. Or, rather, some news I think you’ll be excited by.”
She sat up suddenly. “Yeah? What is it?”
“I got a call from Johann today… he showed the client all the paintings you showed us, and she’s interested. She wants to buy all of them and put them in her gallery.”
Natalie did not speak for a moment; I assumed it was because she was stunned. But her facial expression was ambiguous—if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she looked skeptical, almost suspicious.
“Is that right?” she said.
“You don’t sound very convinced.”
“Huh? Oh, no, I—” she struggled to find the right words. “It’s just… I mean, all of them, that’s… almost too good to be true.”
And that’s when it hit me, she thought itwastoo good to be true. She knew the lengths I would go to help her. She knew I couldn’t just give her the money because she’d never accept it. She had to think I was making this up, that it was just my way of trying to help her without her realizing it.
But this was speculation, and I was too tired to articulate this, and so I waved a hand in the air, dismissing her claim. “Nonsense! It’s what you deserve.” I stood up and made my way across to the kitchen. “Here, we’ll make a toast.”
I made her a martini—with extra olives, the way I knew she liked it—and brought her the glass, sitting down next to her this time. She took the glass thankfully. “To your success,” I said.
“To my success,” she repeated, and we drank.
Gradually the grit and anxiety of the day washed away, and we were again two people in a happy, healthy arrangement, who were fond of one another, who felt too much and too little all at once. But maybe it was the martinis talking.
“Hey, I have an idea,” Natalie said giddily, after we’d finished our second round of drinks.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? What is it?”
Her hand wandered sensually up my leg, and toward my crotch. “Why don’t you follow me and find out?” she said.
And together we stood—her leading, me following—making our way to the bedroom.
19
WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS
Natalie
I couldn’t say for certain what it was that prompted it—Daniel’s re-emergence, the wonderful night Lucas and I had spent together, or even something deeper than that— but I knew, was almost certain, that I was falling for Lucas.
And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth about Sophie. It hadn’t seemed important at the time she was born—tracking him down, demanding his presence in her life—but now things were different. He had wandered, as if by a miracle, right back into my life, intoourlives, and now it was something I felt obligated to tell him. But then, many hypotheticals ran through my head. What if he already knew? After all, they had the same eyes, and Sophie’s skin was slightly darker than mine, though not quite as dark as Lucas’s—surely he had considered the timeline, and put two and two together? But I realized this was a reach, a sort of wishful thinking on which I relied to avoid the discomfort I knew telling him the truth would bring.
But then, on the other side of the coin, what if he didn’t know, and didn’t want to? He seemed to like Sophie well enough, but that was different. She was his girlfriend’s daughter, not his daughter, and those two roles were not the same, not even close. What if him finding out the truth scared him off? Or, even worse, what if he assumed I was using Sophie as a pawn, a way of securing his wealth not only for her, but for myself? The more scenarios I contemplated, the further my mind wavered in its conviction.
I knew what people in town were saying about me, what they thought I was doing with a man like Lucas. His generosity didn’t help, either; Every time he greeted me, it was with roses, or chocolate-covered strawberries, or ornate pieces of jewelry—not expensive jewelry, but not cheap, either. He even brought something for Sophie, once; a stunning white gold tennis bracelet with three small diamonds in it. I had told him we couldn’t accept, but he had insisted. If word got out that I was claiming Lucas as the father of my daughter, whom they had assumed was fatherless all of those years, the gossip would surely become nastier and more aggressive. There’d be doubt, surely—they would begin accusing me of lying, even more than before, even going as far as convincing Lucas to demand a paternity test. Of course, I wasn’t worried about this, I knew my history, and what the results would tell me, but still, the prospect of it all was too big a deterrent. And so I didn’t tell him just then; I would wait for a better moment, maybe after the gossip became less vicious, and Lucas and I were more secure in our feelings for one another.
