they? When had she ceased to be enough? What did the other woman give him? What about the rest of the things he’d kept hidden? How many secrets did he even have? A mistress was bad enough, but the other... She didn’t even know what it was. Crimes? Who was the Fixer?
“Breathe, Tía Mariella,” Gabe said with a light touch against her white knuckles.
She realized she’d been holding air in and exhaled with a hissing rush.
“Where is Dr. Aebischer? I thought he was the best. Harrison should be awake by now, shouldn’t he?”
“These things take time. But if anyone can perform a miracle, it’s him. I promise you.”
Gabe was being such a rock through this. She didn’t know what she would have done without his steadying presence. No matter what had come up since this happened, whether it was about Harrison’s care or something to do with the business, he seemed ready to step up. Part of her wanted to collapse against him and let him take control of everything. To believe he could make everything right again.
As his words penetrated, however, she hit a mental wall. A crisis of faith.
“I don’t believe in miracles anymore.”
It shattered her to say it. Firm belief in herself, in her husband and in triumph over adversity had brought her this far. But everything was upside down and backward. She didn’t even know herself anymore, let alone her husband. It would take a miracle to turn back the clock and undo all of this, but she wouldn’t wish herself into ignorant bliss again.
“Tía,” Gabe chided. “He’ll come back. He loves you.”
“Does he?” The words were soft, but the cry was wrung from the depths of her soul. “I always thought so, but everything I’ve learned since this happened—”
A tiny sound, a barely perceptible catch of his breath, struck her ears like a sonic boom, leaving a ringing inside her head as she looked up at her nephew.
She always thought of him as an open book to her, but for a fraction of a second he was a complete stranger. Lethal. There was a dark knowledge in the backs of his eyes that made her think, He knows.
Everything inside her went still, hardening, but she didn’t know what he knew. That Harrison had a mistress? Who the Fixer was?
Did he know about Joe?
Even as her heart tried to leap out her throat, the impression disappeared. Gabe’s handsome features relaxed into the familiar ones she loved and trusted. In fact, he looked so much like his father, with his caring eyes and gentle smile, her heart took a sharp bounce.
Why was she thinking of her first love so often lately? Because of Ana, she supposed.
She swallowed a lump of emotion and looked at the man who had helped her overcome her first youthful broken heart—only to break it all over again. What had he been thinking all this time, carrying on with his mysterious second life? Had he not realized that one swerve on the highway could do this? Tear back the curtain and reveal all? Whatever he’d been doing had jeopardized his life and their life together.
It had jeopardized everything.
Into her turmoil, Gabe’s hand appeared, reaching to cover hers, warm and firm, just like his voice. “It’s important you don’t lose faith. He knows you love him, that you’re waiting for him.”
Did his hand feel a tiny bit heavier as he said that? Was there a hint of rebuke in his tone?
The nerves in her forearm stung as though poison leached into her blood. A hot pool of guilt gathered heavily in her middle.
She swept her culpable gaze over Harrison’s cleanly shaven face, forgetting her own transgression as she became furious all over again. Did Gabe know about Harrison’s infidelity? Did everyone? Was she one of those foolish women who were the last to know?
“Find the doctor,” she choked, fearing she was about to break down. She quickly softened her voice and offered a trembling smile. “Ask him when he thinks Harrison will wake up.”
Gabe studied her another few seconds. “Of course.” He nodded and left.
Taking a shaking breath, Mariella wondered if she even wanted Harrison to wake up. She cringed at the ugly thought, but at least if he died without waking, she could hang on to the shreds of love and respect she still had for in him. If—when?—he woke, she would have to confront him with his cheating.
And confess her own.
“I’m sleeping with Joe,” she whispered, getting not so much as a shift of his eyeballs behind his lids in acknowledgment.
Her affair with Joe was a sensual punch in the midsection each time she thought about it. She shouldn’t let it carry on, but he was a drug she couldn’t quit. She had gone to him again yesterday, behaving like an oversexed college girl, loins throbbing in heat as she drove to his home.
Who knew she could still feel like that? Merely remembering the stroke of his tongue into her mouth, the slide of his hands over her breasts and hips, working under her dress to gently pinch and massage, had her nipples tightening in this warm room.
She was standing over her comatose husband!
But in some ways, she and Harrison had both been less than conscious for years. Their sex life, though not as busy as when they were younger, was still active, but there wasn’t the same passion as she felt when she was with Joe.
Maybe Harrison had yearned for the same passion she was rediscovering. She couldn’t deny the excitement of having a fresh partner. Lovemaking became new again. They explored each other, played and caressed. She was flagrant in a way she hadn’t been in years.
She flushed all over, thinking she should have been more self-conscious with Joe’s head between her thighs. She had noted that the short strands of his hair felt different from her husband’s, which had somehow made the act all the more erotic and arousing. Everything felt different. Better. She had moaned aloud, caught up in more acute pleasure than she’d felt in eons. When he thrust inside her, she felt young again. Fully alive, not just going through the motions.
All of that would be lost when Harrison opened his eyes.
Joe would have to be pushed aside so she could return to—what? A marriage that wasn’t just stalled, but crumbling under the strain of too many secrets.
On the heels of that anguished thought was a more hopeless one. She and Joe had no future, either. They would never have the kind of life, the kind of bond, she’d had with Harrison. She would never trust him the way she had trusted Harrison.
Harrison was supposed to be the one who hadn’t cheated!
She struck the bed rail with her fist, furious with herself for being so blind. She had learned from the time Ana stole her first boyfriend that men drifted. She might even have recovered from that part of it, eventually, but Harrison had a second partner with this Fixer, too. One Joe had known about.
How could she trust Joe when he’d kept that from her?
She had to quit being so enamored and dependent. She had to harden her heart and look out for her own interests. She was a Santiago, dammit.
