office manager he would pick up some information on early recognition of learning difficulties. Her daughter’s pediatrician was starting to suspect a problem. And heat packs wouldn’t cure his problem anyway. Only time would heal a neck and shoulder strain—just like only time would heal his heartache. But how much time? Fifteen years should have been long enough.
He ducked into a full auditorium and leaned against the door frame. The man next to him handed over a sheaf of lecture notes that Cole took with a politely absent nod, intending to drop out as quickly as he dropped in.
That was when he noticed the speaker, Isabella Allante, at the podium. A video on a giant screen behind her showed Adrian in his younger years, staring into the camera, while other children enjoyed a birthday party.
“So you see, I understand. I’m one of you.” She met the eyes of parents scattered around the room. “My son has autism and I can’t cure him.”
A frisson of emotion quivered through him, an emotion that was too big to name.
He had to look away from Adrian’s stare.
Cole frowned and glanced at the paper he held then glanced at his watch. Wrong time zone. He was late for the workshop on early detection by an hour.
As unobtrusively as he could, he turned to leave. From the podium, Bella fell silent. Just a pause. Just a beat. Just enough to make everyone turn and look at him.
He’d never been one to be swayed by general consensus—unlike Bella. How had sweet, pliable Bella managed with a son as challenging as Adrian? Still, he chose to stay to keep from disrupting Bella’s talk any further.
“I’ve learned to deal with the ups and downs of life with honesty about my strengths and weaknesses.” She stumbled on her closing sentences before she found her rhythm again. “And honesty about my emotions.”
If that was true, she’d certainly changed.
The ring of sincerity in her message kept the crowd enthralled. “As many of you know, my background is in cognitive behavior therapy. But my specialty is in pain management, not autism. Like you, I can’t stay immersed in the study of my child’s disability to the exclusion of all else. Also, like you, I want to do everything within my power to help my child live a contented and worthwhile life. And that includes taking care of myself, mentally, physically and spiritually, and asking for help when I need it. I encourage you to do the same.”
Was Bella staring straight at him? How could she even see him through the crowd? He must be imagining her focus on him, imagining her eyes accusing him of—of what?
When Bella stepped down from the podium and a website address and phone number flashed on the video screen, replacing the birthday scene, Cole felt like he’d been given a reprieve.
Back when Cole had known her, Isabella had been the kind of girl who’d avoided confrontation at all costs. But she was no longer that insecure, unconfident girl she’d been. She rushed to catch Cole, almost running in her three-inch wedges, hoping her favorite shoes would hold together long enough to overtake his long-legged strides.
In the parking lot, he stopped next to a BMW with a rental sticker on the window and took a look behind him, pinning her with his stare. “You want to say something to me?”
Isabella glared right back. “Why are you here?”
She winced when her confrontational words came out soft and breathless. Her wispy tone had nothing to do with the flaring ferocity of emotion in Cole’s eyes but was completely due to her being out of shape. She needed to start running with her son—if she could find a free slot in her schedule.
Cole gave her a once-over, a quick assessment from head to toe. She resisted the impulse to smooth her hair behind her ear or cross her arms over her chest.
“I’m consulting on a few cases with the sports clinic.”
“It’s hard to imagine you working with the SC.”
Cole had always wanted to work for charity, not for big money. In fact, he had been a bit of a reverse snob about money. He’d definitely gotten over that hang-up.
“It’s hard to imagine you as the mother of a teenage boy.”
She smirked. “Time does have a way of changing us—some of us for the better.”
“You, Bella?”
“Definitely. And you?”
He lifted an eyebrow then redirected the conversation. “Where’s Adrian?”
She had the petulant instinct to answer, None of your business. But she was more mature than that. Besides, wasn’t it better to figure out his intentions instead of antagonizing him, so she could be prepared?
“At a boy-girl mixer.”
Getting back on track, she asked, “How long will you be in town?”
“I’m not sure yet.” He said it defensively, tensing his shoulders with a grimace.
His evasiveness set off warning signals. In her profession she had learned to trust her instincts and to read the unspoken message behind tone of voice and body language.
“You have changed, Cole. You were never unsure before. You were always so cocky and full of bravado.”
“Bluffing my way through was the only way I could get where I needed to go. A poor boy on scholarship to one of the wealthiest college prep schools in the United States has to convince everyone—incuding himself—that he’s good enough to be there.” He stood incrementally taller. “I don’t have to prove myself to anyone anymore.”
Sadness swamped her. Sadness for what could have been. But Cole had chosen ambition over her and their child—when he could have had it all if he had stayed. “You never had to prove yourself to me.”
“That’s not how I saw it. You needed approval from your family and friends. Therefore, I needed their approval to be with you. You never even told your father we were dating, too afraid he’d forbid it if he found out.”
“He would have, too, if David’s mother had advised him to. And you know Mrs. Beautemps. She would have made sure we couldn’t see each other.”
Isabella loved her father with all her heart, but he had been totally overwhelmed at raising a teenage daughter after her mother had died, and had turned over all decisions, major or minor, to her mother’s best friend, Marjorie Beautemps. Trying to honor her friend, David’s mother had taken Isabella to her bosom, almost smothering her, until the divorce.
Even though Mrs. Beautemps’ hostile rejection hurt, Isabella could now draw a full breath without being reminded of society’s proprieties.
Where would she and Cole be now if she had been a rebellious wild child instead of a submissive and insecure teenager? Of course, getting pregnant with Adrian could have gone a long way toward eroding her good-girl image if David hadn’t married her, letting the world assume Adrian was his child.
But Cole wasn’t part of that world. She’d done everything in her power to let him know the truth and he had chosen to ignore it. She searched his eyes for a sign, a flicker of guilt or remorse. All she
