paced across the room and stood in front of the fireplace, which housed only ashes. The central heating had taken the edge off the air, but the fireplaces were what gave the house the perfect warmth and a sense of home. She hadn’t been here overnight to stoke them. That it was now full of cold cinders seemed appropriate.
Nico leaned an arm on the wall above the brick hearth, his back to her as he spoke in a rough voice. “I’ve already missed his first steps, his first smile—I can never recapture that. Betrayal has cost me seeing my son learn to walk and run.” He turned to face her again, eyes blazing. “And I’ve lost forever the chance to be the one to teach him to throw a ball. I won’t pass up any other firsts.”
His strong sense of family would never let him do anything else. Before this insanity had begun she’d dreamed of having children with Nico, and even then she’d known his commitment to those of his blood would be absolute. At the time she’d been thrilled by the thought. Now it was no less honorable, but the intensity of his devotion to family was bound to complicate everything dreadfully.
However, Marco would get to know his father, Nico would spend time with his son. It was the right thing to do, the best for both child and father. “I won’t ask you to leave him behind.”
But how would she survive being that close? Loving Nico and not having him. Wanting him and keeping a secret from him. It would be the worst kind of torture.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Nico, promise me you’ll leave things between us alone. You’ll have access to Mark, but you won’t push me on details from the past.”
His eyes widened as if she’d asked for the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I’ll promise no such thing.”
Oh, God. Rising panic squeezed her lungs. He had no idea how hot the fire he played with really blazed; she needed to make him see without giving away the secret that would destroy him. She had only one bargaining chip left. “Nico, please. Do it for Marco.”
He paused, eyes scanning hers. “Marco? I thought his name was Mark.”
Beth dragged in a shuddering breath and nodded. She owed Nico this information. “It is, officially.”
She walked to a carved wooden chest and opened the latch, revealing the collection of photos that were usually displayed around the room. The ones she’d rushed to take down yesterday after visiting Nico’s hotel. Part of her futile attempt to hide Marco’s paternity a little longer.
With tenderness, she picked up a framed print of Marco running in the park with her parents’ Dalmatian. It had always been one of her favorites, for the unbridled joy on her son’s face, and for the way he resembled his true father in it.
She walked to Nico and handed it to him, a peace offering. “In my heart, and when he and I are alone, I’ve always called him Marco. He thinks it’s my pet name for him. It was as close as I could come to naming him after you.”
As Nico raised the photo, his throat worked up and down.
Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back—this was Nico’s moment. “It was all of his father I could give him.”
He dragged in a breath, then another before meeting her gaze, his eyes filled with resolve. “But now he will have more. Marco will have me,” he vowed. “You’ve kept him from me for this long, don’t even think about standing in my way as I get to know my son.”
Emotion stung the back of her nose as she shook her head. “I won’t, I swear.”
Barely acknowledging her response, he continued. “And I won’t be a once-a-year father. You’ll have to share him equally.”
He meant it as a warning, she knew, and she took it as one … but not the way he intended. How would she cope with the amount of contact required to share custody? To be so close to the man she loved, yet so far away.
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