of that first night—of all the nights on the island—remained wonderfully sweet. “I thought so, yes. And it was the best, that night with him, better than anyone or any time before. In the morning, we agreed to spend the next two weeks together. We decided we would live completely in the now and not talk about our ‘real’ lives. And when the fantasy was over, we would go our separate ways.”
Rory was chewing her lower lip. “Reality always intrudes, though, doesn’t it?”
“Sadly, yeah,” Clara admitted. “But for two incredible, perfect weeks, we were lovers. We were open and tender and passionate with each other—in the moment only, I mean. Mostly, we managed to keep our real lives out of it. The sex was just beautiful. And we climbed a volcano, went parasailing and scuba diving. Even bungee jumping. At night, we danced under the stars by the light of the moon. By the end, I knew I was falling in love with him.”
Rory asked in a whisper, “Did you...tell him?”
Clara put her hand on her belly, rubbed it slowly and gently, feeling the love well up, the gratitude, in spite of everything. Her baby might not have a daddy. But she would be a good mother. Clara would make sure her child had a great start in life, with love and happiness to spare. “On the last night, I finally worked up the nerve. I told him I wanted to keep seeing him when we got back to Colorado...”
“Oh, my darling. And?”
“My fantasy crashed and burned.”
“Oh, no...”
“Yeah. He told me that he’d had a beautiful time with me and he would never forget me, but he would only mess things up if we tried to have more.”
“Mess things up? But why? I don’t get it.”
“He said it was different, that he was different, there with me, on the island. He said he wanted to remember me that way, remember us that way. That his marriage had ended not that long before, and it was his fault. And he wasn’t ready to try again. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready. He wanted to stick to the agreement we’d made.”
“That’s just so sad.”
“Believe me, I wanted to argue. I wanted to ask him why he couldn’t at least give it a try. But then, I was pretty much reeling that I’d put myself right out there for him—and gotten instant and total rejection. Plus, well, he was right that we did have an agreement. It wasn’t as if he owed it to me to change everything up just because I’d decided I wanted more. So I went home and tried to forget him. Unfortunately, a few weeks later, I realized I was having his baby. I agonized for another few weeks.”
“You should have called me. I would have come running.” At the time, Rory was still living in her family’s palace in Montedoro on the Cote d’Azur.
“I couldn’t. I felt that I should tell him, tell Dalton, first of all, before anyone else.”
“Well, fair enough. I can understand that.”
“So I started trying to figure out how best to reach him...” Clara stared out the breakfast nook window. It was already dark. All she saw was her own reflection, a reflection that blurred as pointless tears rose. She swallowed, hard, and brushed them away.
Rory got up again and circled the table. This time, she just stood by Clara’s chair, looping an arm around her shoulder, then smoothing her hair so that Clara gave in to the comfort she offered and rested her head against Rory’s side. “I take it you found him.”
“It wasn’t hard, really. A little searching online and I learned he was a big shot from a Denver banking family.”
“Wait. ‘Ames’ of Ames Bank and Trust?” There was a branch right there in town.
“That’s right.” Clara tipped her head up and caught Rory’s eye. “And the supposed ex-wife? Maybe not so ‘ex’...”
Rory gasped. “You’re kidding. He lied? He had a wife the whole time?”
“No. They had been divorced. But there were recent pictures of the ‘ex’ on his arm at some big charity event. She’s gorgeous, by the way. Beauty-queen gorgeous. Blond. Willowy. Perfect. In the pictures she was smiling at him in this teasing, intimate way. The gossipy article that went with the pictures hinted that maybe a remarriage was in the offing.”
Rory stroked her hair some more. “So that’s why you put off contacting him?”
“Yeah. I kind of lost heart, you know? I didn’t want to mess up his reunion with his ex—really, I didn’t want to deal with him at all by then.”
“Completely, one hundred percent understandable.”
“I decided there was no real rush to tell him about the baby. At that time, I wasn’t due for months and months.”
“I get that.”
“But then those months went by. I continued to put it off, kept avoiding the moment of truth when I would have to face him. And in the middle of that, there was all that frantic planning for the wedding to Ryan that ended up not happening. And, well, now it’s April and my due date is six weeks away. I couldn’t put it off anymore.”
“So you’ve done it. You’ve told him.”
“Yep.”
“And...what next?”
“What do you mean, what next?” Clara stiffened. “I’ve told him, that’s it.”
“But what does he plan to do now?”
“How would I know what he plans?” Clara pulled sharply away.
Rory took the hint and stepped back. Gently, she suggested, “Well, I was thinking he might want to—”
“I said I don’t know.” Clara got up, grabbed their empty bowls and carried them to the sink. “We didn’t get into any of that,” she added without turning.
Rory, still standing by the table, asked, “So you have no clue whether or not he wants to be involved with the baby?”
Clara put the bowls in the sink and flipped on the water. “It’s not like we had a real conversation. I told him that I was pregnant and that I didn’t expect anything from him. I gave him a card with my numbers on it, so he can contact me if he wants to. That was it.”
“But—”
“Look.” Clara left the water running and whirled on Rory. “How would I know what he’ll do next? Probably try to figure out a way to tell his wife that some woman he boinked last summer on Anguilla is having his baby.”
Rory marched over and flipped the water off. “Sweetheart.” She pulled Clara close. “It’s all right. You’ve done what you had to do and you were brave to do it. I’m not getting on you.”
Clara stiffened—and then let her defensiveness go and wrapped her arms good and tight around her cousin. “God. I hate this.”
“I know.” Rory gave her another good squeeze, then took her hand and led her past the breakfast nook to the
